The day I met Martin Scorsese

Just taking a break before we go to see Pirates of the Caribbean (in English) at one of the theatres in Cannes! Yay, a movie that isn't about abortions or bestiality!

Lauren

24 May 2007

On the ninth day of the festival, I think it finally hit me how big a deal this thing is.

It took much longer than usual to hook for tickets for Ocean’s Thirteen, the big movie out of competition in the festival, in the morning. Bill, Laura, Mandy, and I all got tickets, but Samantha couldn’t find one (this proved to be a good thing for her later). I had a numbered corbeille seat, front and center in the balcony, and I sat surrounded by tons of big French executives who were cracking in-jokes and e-mailing deals over their Blackberry phones. I won’t spoil any of the movie for anyone, but I have to say it was hilarious! More so than the first two, but still with all of the high-tech, “gotcha!” action. I might have been extra excited because I was one of the first 2,000 regular audience members to see the film everyone in the U.S. wants to see this summer—how weird and amazing was that?!

When we walked out of the Lumiere, I heard screaming fans over by the red carpet, but I walked by pretty fast to get my trade mags and use the restroom at the Majestic (I do this so many times a day that the guards all know me and don’t even bother to check my bags, whereas for some reason they don’t even let some of the other Cinephiles in). I walked back to gather with the UGA group on the grass, and girls and guys alike were going insane: the cast of Entourage was rehearsing for the episode they’d be shooting at the Ocean’s Thirteen evening premiere, and most of the people I know got pictures with them! I don’t watch the show (yet), so I didn’t mind missing the rehearsal, but just thinking about how big this festival is in the entertainment world, that a popular TV show would film here and millions of viewers would wish they were here...

Most surreal moment of the day, however, was our meeting with Martin Scorsese. Yes, THE Martin Scorsese talked to, among others, my class at his directing master class in the Debussy theatre. We had gathered on the grass to get our VIP tickets for the event, and it felt so great to walk right up the blue carpet instead of waiting in line for the cheap seats. Tolu, Laura, Bill, and I sat four rows back from the stage. While we were waiting, one kid whispered to his friend “Hey, I think that’s Quentin Tarantino,” and then an entire section of cameras started aiming a little ways beyond my head. I got a little testy again at how much everyone was falling all over themselves for this guy (and how much he was lapping it up); it was too weird that we were in the same room, and even though I wasn’t close enough to spit on him I was satisfied that he was about to learn from a really good filmmaker.

I kept coming in and out of thought during Scorsese’s talk. We watched clips from six of his films (now I know where to start, since The Departed was *gasp* my first Scorsese film), and how much he still remembered about all of the scenes’ details amazed me. He has it down to a science, but it comes so naturally to him after all his years of loving and working in film—very interesting to see in action. He cracked a lot of jokes and everyone on the trip wanted him to be their grandpa. And the last few minutes he talked about the world cinema foundation he’s starting via Cannes to preserve and archive films all over the world like he’s done in America; he said we’re responsible for making sure future generations get to experience cinema (and the world it reflects), which is a weighty yet intriguing challenge.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur after the excitement of seeing Martin Scorsese. Lots of kids went to the red carpet for the Ocean’s premiere, which I knew would be a mob scene (some girls got pushed over in the mad rush to reach out to Matt Damon, Brad Pitt, and George Clooney!). Kaison and I schemed to go to one more premiere later that night, the Russian competition film Alexandra, which turned out to be a good and bad experience. We actually got to see all the stars in a much less extreme atmosphere; they walked down the red carpet again after the premiere (which is sort of uncommon, so no big crowd had gathered), and I didn’t get any pics but definitely saw all of the guys and Angelina Jolie as well, in her beautiful yellow dress. Alexandra ended up being incredibly slow, with a beautiful, swelling score but no action to accompany it, and after no amazing “Russian grandma saves the day on the battlefield” moments like the synopsis seemed to promise we left early to catch the train. Which sat in the station for an hour late for God knows what reason. We had a jolly time reminiscing about all of the American TV shows we like to watch, but when we got back at 1 I died only to revive at 7 to finish two more film reviews.

25 May 2007

Got into the 11:30 screening “We Own the Night” along with Chris, Kaison, and Jonathan, but not before I got yet another nutella banana panini, or should I say “nutella banini” per my tired but creative misspeaking at the snack bar. Oh my gosh they’re good. I fully plan on investing in a panini press in the U.S. for the sole purpose of making baninis. Despite almost everyone else’s opinion, I had fun with “We Own the Night.” Anything with Mark Wahlberg is bound to rock my socks off, and he and Joaquin Phoenix make an interesting pair of good/bad brothers whose conception of family changes when their police family gets them into a drug war. My favorite scene had to be the car chase in the rain; there was no goofy music playing to up the tension, only the sound of the windshield wipers and skidding cars. It really looked and felt as chaotic and scary as it would be if you got into a multiple-car gunfight in real life.

“Une Vieille Maitresse,” the first period piece by “the French princess of erotica” Catherine Breillat, was playing right after “We Own the Night,” and tickets were curiously easy to come by. We assume it’s because most of the market people have picked up and shipped out, but we seriously were half of the way to our usual corner when a lady came up behind me and asked if I needed tickets. People in line were holding extra tickets out for anyone to take. We got even better balcony seats than we did for the first film (good because I left my glasses at the apartment and needed to be close to be able to read the subtitles), and I liked this movie even more than the previous one. The story was so strange, about a libertine who has decided to settle down and leave his lover of 10 years only to cross her path again on his honeymoon; he tells his wife’s grandmother the full story of his affair to gain her confidence, and even though it seems like he and “the old mistress” hate each other he eventually leaves his wife for her again. The film was as sexy as you’d expect from Breillat, but all the sex scenes worked for the complex characters and beautiful costuming/landscapes. It’s certainly not the Palme d’Or winner, but it was very enjoyable to watch.

We came back to JLP briefly to change, but then the plan was to go back to Cannes to watch Pirates of the Caribbean at one of the traditional movie theatres there. We talked to the tourist agency and even found the theatre online and felt secure in the movie time and its being in English, however another late train ride and the following sprint down the Rue d’Antibes proved futile when the ticket takers said the film started Saturday. We pottered around for awhile, trying to think of things to do over some amazing ice cream, and eventually we just started walking toward old Cannes. The streets became narrower and steeper and made of cobblestones, and cute local art stores dotted our chosen boulevard of restaurant after restaurant. We’re going to have to go back, because I want to eat a real, full meal again and the menus at all of these places looked great. Adam led us up some crazy stairs between apartment buildings to the church on the top of the hill, and we were treated to the most breathtaking view of the city. On one side we could look all the way past the Palais and down the row of hotels on the Croisette, and on the other side streetlights winked from hills leading toward mountains beyond a bay. I got a few pictures of us climbing the church walls (and almost falling three stories out of holes in the walls), but eventually it began to rain, and we stared longing at all of the restaurants as we jogged toward the train station.