Last week, in Cannes

Ok, where were we? Right, Wednesday. 

Wednesday was a bit of a bust, so shall we just skip it altogether? No, well no judging my brutal honesty then.

I was finally able to meet up with my friend Maria who had come to Cannes a day or two after me. Maria is a beautiful actress from Russia who I met in my very first acting class in LA. She's a dear friend and it was good to see a familiar face in a strange land. Maria had a manager and PR woman with her in addition to her family. She had been going from meeting to interview to party since arriving, it was amazing I got anytime with her at all. After I left Maria at her hotel I got a call from her 5 minutes later saying Jim Jarmusch(one of my hero directors) was in the lounge. I literally sprinted back to the hotel. Maria waited for me at the gate and lead me to the lobby. What I did next will haunt me until I meet Mr. Jarmusch again. I froze. Jarmusch was being interviewed in the hotel lounge and I couldn't interrupt. I had though Maria would go with me but she couldn't.

I went to the bathroom while I debated what to do and as Maria and I walked back to the lobby Jarmusch himself came around the corner looking for the bathroom. He looked at me, actually looked at me. I could've said something. Could've simply said " Mr. Jarmusch I'm great admirer of your work."

He probably would've said thank you and continued to the bathroom, and I could've slept easy for the rest of my adult life. But I didn't and I can't. Maria had to return to her room to change and I decided to leave. When I got to the front gate I couldn't get it open and turned back to go ask the desk clerk to let me out. Jim Jarmusch, his interviewers and a photographer were standing 30 feet away, taking photos for whatever magazine was interviewing him.

I had to walk by him yet again, to the lobby where I asked the clerk how to get out. 

"Zhe gate is open right znow if zyou hurreee"

She said. I turned to see Jim Jarmusch and his party opening the hotel gate to leave. I had to sprint, yet again, down the path to catch the gate before it closed. I then found myself standing behind Jim Jarmusch while he was still being interviewed. I couldn't interrupt him. I'd had my chance to say something and I'd chickened out. Now the universe seemed to be rubbing my cowardice in my face, as Jarmusch and his party strolled down the sidewalk in the direction I needed to go. I trailed down the sidewalk several paces behind them so as not to seem creepy( because trailing him for three blocks is only creepy if you're too close). Finally, finally, Jarmusch's company left him and I raced to the nearest crosswalk in order to reach him.

By the time French traffic had allowed me to cross however, he had entered a heavily guarded hotel. I could've talked my way in probably, but then he would have seen me in two different hotel lobbies in 10 minutes and that would've reeked of stalker. I glumly walked back towards the international village.

I ended up at the American Pavillion again, and after some schmoozing with PR people I sat with my director Brett and a lovely producer from London named Nellie, drinking wine and discussing industry "strategy". I related the story of Jim Jarmsuch and in an effort to cheer me up, Brett and Nellie did some research and found a vip party they thought I could sneak into. I was feeling very low but I went back to the Airbnb and got on my red carpet togs. I found the party on the beach and plucked up my courage to talk my way in. They party was over, the guard informed me. I watched all the glitzy guests filing out and discussing after party plans. I felt like burying myself in the sand and staying there for a few hundred years. Then Kevin, the American filmmaker, texted and asked if I wanted to go to club Gotha nearby. I eagerly agreed, wanting my fancy dress and ten pounds of makeup not to go to waste. Chris Brown was performing at Gotha that night, of course, and I waited in line with about 200 other French teenagers for an hour before Kevin and David turned up and said we could get in if we bribed the guard. We did so. I entered the club to discover that France doesn't have building capacity laws, at least not ones they obey. My friends had somehow gotten into the vip section and I dove into the crowd to try and make it to them. Once in the crowed I started to question my sanity and life expectancy. It was every man for himself. I couldn't breath, I couldn't move, and after nearly punching a French teenager who kept pushing against me I fought my way back out and into the open air. I had a good cry and ordered an uber home.

And that was Wednesday.

Yours truly,

Drama Queen 

Sorry, I've Been Busy

Ok, I'm here in one piece. Made it through an 11 hour flight to Stockholm and a 3 hour flight to Nice then from the Nice airport to my hotel. A journey I had serious doubts of my making without many unwanted detours. 

I was lucky enough to sit next to an American filmmaker, Kevin, and his producer, David, on the flight over. They had a short film in the emerging filmmakers showcase at the American pavilion. We all got to know each other very well over the next 15 hours.

The first two days of my trip I stayed at a small hotel in Nice, although old town Nice is lovely, Nice is a 40 minute drive from Cannes. I took an airport shuttle into Cannes the first day for a panel on producing at the Jordan pavilion. Although I was virtually cooking outside for the entire thing it was an interesting conversation to listen to and I was able to meet and talk with some producers who have been in the business for a long time. I met and English filmmaker and her music producer boyfriend at the that panel and we ended up going to a party at the American pavilion that night. When it was clear I'd missed the last shuttle back to nice, they kindly let me crash at their flat for the night. 

The next day I checked out of my hotel and hauled my things back to Cannes to meet up with my director Brett, in order to crash on his couch for the next few days. While sitting at s cheering enjoying wine and chocolate I met s lovely South African filmmaker and her Romanian editor and we chatted for long time. Brett showed up and we hauled my overstuffed suitcase into a delightfully rickety French elevator and into his Airbnb. 

I ventured out alone that night in a cocktail dress and heel hoping to find a party I could talk my way into. Party invitations are closely guarded things here, second only in importance to distribution deals. If you make it on to a yacht you are a magician. It was disheartening experience and I almost gave up and went back to the apartment, the but the English filmmaker, Emma, invited me to to sneak into the hotel majestic bar with her. The three of us did and  I had my first Manhattan. It was glorious. 

Tuesday I awoke and after wandering around Cannes for an hour trying to pick a breakfast place, finally choosing one and eating, I went to the American pavilion for the screening of his film along with several others. The film was called Cora and was the story of his grandmother surviving racism and domestic abuse in Memphis in the 50's. It was a beautiful film, along with many of the others, and I was lucky enough to spend most of the day at the American pavilion hanging out with Kevin and his lead actress Latarsha. At the reception afterwards I had conversations with so many interesting people and business cards were doing a heavy trade. The American pavilion is one of a line of tents that boarders the beach, so there we all were chatting, eating French food, and looking out on the ocean. 

Last night Brett and I were sitting down to eat at randomly chosen restaurant when I heard music drifting up the street and recognized the voice. I leapt up and ran down the alley after the voice and found the busker playing. It was Amy May. Amy is a singer songwriter based in LA who I discovered playing on the 3rd street promenade two years ago and have been listening to ever since. I went up to talk to her between songs and she was so delighted that I'd found her here 5000 miles from our home. She asked me what my favorite song of hers was and then played it for me. It was a wonderful moment of kismit.

I will write about the last two days more in detail soon. I've had less free time than I would've expected here. There has been no swimming as of yet in the beautiful blue sea.

This place, this event, is a strange things. It can make you feel connected to your fellow artists and absolutely alive, or small pointless and no one, much like the film industry itself.

I'm glad I came though

Yours truly, 

Drama queen 

Drama Queen Rides Again

...and we're back. It's been two years since Drama Queen last ran rampant across the pond and I'm here to tell you folks she's gearing up to ride again. 

So in the time since I last blogged I've moved to LA and continued pursuing the acting. A short film I was lucky enough to play a supporting character in last year , entitled Youth, is having its local premier in San Francisco tomorrow. Which is why I'm currently on a bus up to that great city in the fog right now. 

After my return is when the bigger trip happens. Youth is having one of its premier screenings at the Festival de Cannes, and I have decided to bite the bullet, take the risk, dance with Lady Luck so to speak, and go with it. That's right folks, Drama Queen is going to Cannes. I'm going to spend just over a week there. I've spoken to many people who are festival regulars and researched it thoroughly and have absolutely no idea what's going to happen. I decided I needed an adventure and then this dropped into my lap. I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. I'll be blogging as often as possible(not sure what my wifi situation will be but I'll make it work) and I hope you all will follow along and feel free to chime in in the comments.

I've decided to blog about my San Francisco excursion, brief though it is, because it feels like the opener for the Cannes trip. So far yesterday and today have been fraught with obstacles, and I had moment this morning where I debated canceling.

I woke up yesterday morning to find my iPhone 5, such a recent machine compared to the vastness of history but already decrepit in the eyes of Apple, had kicked the bucket. I was stone cold dead and nothing could revive it. The idea of traveling without a phone did NOT fill me with joy and I didn't have much time to figure out an alternative as I had a doctors appointment to get to. 

Luckily I live with my resourceful parents and my dad handed me his cellphone to use out in the world then set to work finding me a replacement. When I returned from the doctor we made a much unwanted trek to the mall to visit the Apple Store and I am now writing this post in a brand spanking new iPhone 6. Although I bristle at being controlled by Apples planned obsolescence, I must admit having a new phone is quite nice.

But the fun didn't stop there. I woke up this morning to find I'd somehow, sleeping in my bed, thrown my low back out. It spasmed every time I moved a certain way like my spine was playing a painful game of hot cold with me. I very nearly cancelled, but I didn't.

Moving very slowly I managed to get my luggage out to the Lyft and then from the Lyft to the bus. I probably confused everyone with my gate, why is a young woman in a Ramones t shirt walking like an eighty year old whose just had hip surgery?

The important thing is I made it on the bus.

I'm settled in with my back support cushion in place and a collection of short stories to read. San Francisco here I come.

Premier info and photos to follow. 

Yours sincerely,

Drama Queen