CANNES: "Greetings from Monte Carlo..."

I can’t remember what time I went to sleep last night.  My watch wasn’t set, my cell phone was out of juice, my body clock is completely out of whack, and I was too lazy to scour the apartment in search of a clock.  So, I just crashed.  Fortunately, Charlie showed me how to lower the hurricane shutters beforehand.  (Actually, they don’t have hurricanes here.  They have “mistrals,” which, if I’m not mistaken, are the Mediterranean equivalent of hurricanes.)  Anyway, I lowered the shutters, which plunged my bedroom into complete darkness.  It was so dark and so quiet that I didn’t even budge until Charlie came knocking at around 12 noon the next day.  Apparently, both of us had overslept by several hours. 

We called Carl Colpaert, our co-producer over at Cineville, around 1 pm and he informed us that we had a big meeting with some Asia-based financiers in Cannes at 3:30 pm.  I think I screamed “Oh, shit” before setting a new, land-speed record on my way to the shower.  Charlie, being the smarter one, had already showered the night before.  In a flash, I showered, brushed my teeth, put on some deodorant, and changed from my contacts to my glasses (Jason told me I look more like a director when I wear my glasses).  When I was finished, we grabbed our posters, our business cards, our Euros, a flashdrive with the scrīpt on it, and had the concierge hail a taxi cab for us.  Our taxi driver was a cool guy.  He drove a Mercedes and wore a Rolex that made me insane with envy, but he got us to the train station in record time.  It rained the whole way...

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until we tried to buy our tickets that we realized the train station workers had decided to go on strike that morning.  I think I screamed “Oh, shit” before setting yet another new, land-speed record on my way back to the taxi.  Fortunately for us, the taxi driver hadn’t left yet and offered to drive us to Cannes the back way for 160 Euros.  That’s serious bank, but what choice did we have?  It was either that or miss the meeting, and there was no way we were going to miss this meeting.  So, we hopped back into the Mercedes and headed for Cannes.  I took pictures the entire way, like the tourist that I am… Clearly, I have a weakness for tunnel shots...

Thankfully, our driver -- Frederique, I think his name was -- was a total pro and was able to avoid the insane festival traffic by maneuvering through the “Beverly Hills of Cannes” Ronin-style and approached the Carlton, our Cannes headquarters, from behind.  This was my first view of the hub of the festival…

Anyway, we proceeded to walk around to the front of the hotel.  There was a giant Indiana Jones-themed temple at the entrance to the Carlton.  Apparently, the fourth film in the series is having its premiere at Cannes and the Carlton is its headquarters, too.  At least, we’re in good company, right?  Actually, to be honest, as cool as it was to see the Indiana Jones-themed advertisements everywhere, it left me with a bittersweet taste in my mouth.  On the one hand, I’m a huge Indiana Jones fan and grew up loving those films.  On the other hand, the film’s presence, like that of so many other Hollywood films at the festival, made me see – in rather stark relief – how commercialized the festival has become over the years.  When I came to Cannes, I expected to see posters of independent films.  Instead, I saw posters of “Get Smart, “Kung Fu Panda,” the new Ben Stiller movie, the new Adam Sandler movie, etc.  It was a bit of a killjoy, to say the very least.  In fact, I can’t remember seeing any posters for independent and/or European films all day.  :( 

In any case, as we approached the entrance to the hotel, we had our pictures taken by a slew of paparazzi, who, apparently, didn’t realize that Charlie and I aren’t famous.  (I guess they just wanted to be on the safe side.)  When we reached the front doors, the security personnel refused to let us in because we didn’t have proper passes.  Thankfully, I had Carl Colpaert’s business card in my new wallet (Thanks, baby).  I flashed it to the security guard, told him I was Carl Colpaert and that I had a booth on the second floor, and we were “in like Flynn.”  (I was feeling quite proud of myself, if you want to know the real truth.  I once saw Jake Gittes do the same thing in "Chinatown.")  We then went up to the Cineville/Boll booth on the second floor, which is really in the thick of things, as it turns out, and entered.  It's a pretty impressive spread they've got there and the view out of the window wasn't too bad either...

We met with Carl, caught up for a little bit, and gave him the posters we had done, hoping to “dress the room” prior to the big meeting.  And that’s when we found out that our big meeting had been rescheduled for the following day.  That was a bit disappointing, to say the least.  To say the very least.  So, we caught up a bit more, discussed “Jasmine,” my vision of it, the logistics of the shoot, etc.  Then, we decided to go and have a drink downstairs.  Interestingly, Dennis Hopper was sitting next to us.  I tried not to geek out, but it was pretty cool…You have to bear in mind that his directorial debut, “Easy Rider,” won the Palme D’Or 39 years ago.  I didn’t take a picture of him because I wanted to respect his privacy, but I did take a picture of Carl and Charlie… Represent...

Charlie had an Orangina.  Carl had a beer.  And I had a Diet Coke.  Speaking for myself, my Diet Coke – or “Coca-Cola Light,” as they call it here – was not the best $13 I ever spent.  I shudder to think of what the total bill came out to be.  

Afterwards, Charlie and I parted ways with Carl for the day.  We walked down the boardwalk, took some more pictures, saw Mike Tyson, hunted down a copy of the Festival Guide, took a gander at the red carpet down at the Palais, and sought out some industry friends who we knew were at the festival and with whom we've been wanting to connect.

Around 6:30 pm, we finally caught the train home.  The ride took a little over an hour and we passed through a series of picturesque seaside towns, including Beaulieu Sur Mer (where they filmed "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," one of my all-time favorite comedies).  I would have taken pictures, but my camera ran out of juice.  After arriving in Monaco, we took a nice, long walk – along the course for the upcoming Monaco Grand Prix – back to the apartment.  All things considered, it was a pretty good first day.  

-Dax