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