Cannes, 1981: A study in the art of being rude

As Cannes 2010 ends, read this hilarious post from Roger Ebert on the 1981 festival. Be tenacious - do try and get to part where the question of who is wearing what, and when arises!! Of course Jack Nicholson is in the thick of this episode.

BY ROGER EBERT / May 21, 1981
For the latest developments in the human art of being rude, no place offers a better opportunity for study than a press conference at the Cannes Film Festival. The very words "press conference" carry a genteel connotation unknown to the packs of scandalmongers and paparazzi who descend upon the movie stars after the screening of major films.

Take, for example, Sunday's experience by Jack Nicholson, Jessica Lange and Bob Rafelson, the stars and the director of “The Postman Always Rings Twice”. Nicholson and Lange had arrived several days early and prepared for the ordeal by intensive sunbathing sessions around the pool at the Hotel Majestic. Rafelson flew in from London, where he had spent a week explaining that the British would quite likely appreciate his film more than the Americans, who had made it a U.S. box-office disappointment.

He was right about the British: “Postman” is setting box-­office records in London. But the Continental reception for his film is impossible to gauge - how do you take the temperature of a mob?

“Postman” was screened four times Sunday at Cannes. The evening screening was a formal affair, with the movie tycoons in their tuxedos and their ladies in long dresses. The morning press screening resembled a reunion of Students for a Democratic Society. Hordes of young film buffs, some of them with dubious credentials, descended upon the Palais du Festival to sink into the overstuffed chairs and regard the screen, which is always framed by incongruous displays of flowers. After giving the film a somewhat cool reception, they trampled upstairs to the fourth floor of the Palais, where security guards in tuxedos fought a losing battle in trying to check credentials.

The press conference was scheduled for half an hour earlier. There wasn't a seat to be had. Television crews jammed the aisles. Technicians with mini-cams stood on chairs. Floodlights from the networks of five nations made the room unbearably hot. Rows and rows of print journalists could see nothing but the backs of the paparazzi, who jammed the area in front of the conference table.

Nicholson, Lange and Rafelson were half an hour late. They were preceded by announcements that only three minutes of taking pictures would be strictly enforced, and then the photographers would have to sit down so those in back could see. Loud cheers from those in back, and sardonic laughter from the paparazzi. Suddenly a wave of excitement ran through the crowd, followed by Rafelson and Nicholson. The paparazzi went into Kodak orgasms, climbing on each other's shoulders to take what will no doubt turn out to be unfocused close-ups of Jack Nicholson's ear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" screamed Richard Roud. (He has been the festival's translator for years and must know that none of the paparazzi fall into those two categories.) A human wall of security men succeeded in escorting Jessica Lange through the crush. Strobe lights were flashing so constantly that the stars were blinded. A fistfight broke out between a TV cameraman and a photographer who was trying to stand in front of him on the same chair.

After 10 minutes of chaos, the photographers were mostly persuaded to desist. It was hard to understand exactly what their excitement was about: They were all taking the same picture of several people seated at a table behind microphones and water pitcher.

"Are you all done?" Roud screamed into his microphone.

"They've been done for weeks," Nicholson said.

It was time for the questions. The questions at a Cannes press conference are almost always as arcane as the photographers are bestial. One question, I see from my notes, touches on Rafelson's motives for remaking “The Postman Always Rings Twice," his choice of Sven Nykvist for cameraman, and rumors that Nicholson had used Gary Gilmore as the inspiration for his performance. By the time the question had been translated into English and the answers translated into French, it all hardly mattered since no one could remember how the exchange had begun.

My favorite exchange went like this:

Q. (From French intellectual in tinted glasses, with cigarette in mouth.) What did you wear during that scene?

A. NICHOLSON: What scene?

Q. Not you, Monsieur Rafelson.

A. RAFELSON: What scene?

Q. That scene of the lovemaking on the table.

A. NICHOLSON: Oh, yeah, that scene.

A. RAFELSON: You mean what did Jack wear?

Q. No, what did you wear?

A. RAFELSON: What did I wear while I was directing the scene?

Q. Oui.

A. RICHARD ROUD: Next question.

Another questioner asked Nicholson what differences there were between working for Stanley Kubrick, who directed him in “The Shining”, and Rafelson, who also directed him in “Five Easy Pieces”.

"Well, Bob works much faster than Stanley. Apart from that, they're both great artists who both think I'm the best actor in the world."

Next question: Why did Rafelson choose Sven Nykvist to be his cinematographer?

"He has worked a great deal in black and white."

"But… your film is in color."

"Yes, but with an awareness of black and white. Also, he is deaf in his right ear and I am deaf in my left ear, so we can communicate very easily. If we were both deaf in the same ear, it would be more difficult."'

Why, asked another journalist, did you both want to make a new version of “The Postman Always Rings Twice”?

Said Rafelson: "Ten years ago, I discussed John Garfield's version of “Postman” with Jack, because I felt that Jack's career would follow the same lines as Garfield's 10 years later. Jack asked me to make a new version of “Postman” thinking that I had always wanted to," said Rafelson.

After an hour of this, Roud announced an end to the press conference, and the guards successfully escorted the stars from the building. What was learned by the press? It is very hard to say. What was the purpose or the conference? Perhaps all the press conferences at Cannes are some form of divine retribution, in which movie stars are taught that if they want to have their moment of glory on a 60-foot screen framed with flowers, they are going to have to pay for that privilege by proving, for an hour afterward, that they are good enough sports to star in a circus.

LINK

Cannes, 1981: A study in the art of being rude

As Cannes 2010 ends, read this hilarious post from Roger Ebert on the 1981 festival. Be tenacious - do try and get to part where the question of who is wearing what, and when arises!! Of course Jack Nicholson is in the thick of this episode.

BY ROGER EBERT / May 21, 1981
For the latest developments in the human art of being rude, no place offers a better opportunity for study than a press conference at the Cannes Film Festival. The very words "press conference" carry a genteel connotation unknown to the packs of scandalmongers and paparazzi who descend upon the movie stars after the screening of major films.

Take, for example, Sunday's experience by Jack Nicholson, Jessica Lange and Bob Rafelson, the stars and the director of “The Postman Always Rings Twice”. Nicholson and Lange had arrived several days early and prepared for the ordeal by intensive sunbathing sessions around the pool at the Hotel Majestic. Rafelson flew in from London, where he had spent a week explaining that the British would quite likely appreciate his film more than the Americans, who had made it a U.S. box-office disappointment.

He was right about the British: “Postman” is setting box-­office records in London. But the Continental reception for his film is impossible to gauge - how do you take the temperature of a mob?

“Postman” was screened four times Sunday at Cannes. The evening screening was a formal affair, with the movie tycoons in their tuxedos and their ladies in long dresses. The morning press screening resembled a reunion of Students for a Democratic Society. Hordes of young film buffs, some of them with dubious credentials, descended upon the Palais du Festival to sink into the overstuffed chairs and regard the screen, which is always framed by incongruous displays of flowers. After giving the film a somewhat cool reception, they trampled upstairs to the fourth floor of the Palais, where security guards in tuxedos fought a losing battle in trying to check credentials.

The press conference was scheduled for half an hour earlier. There wasn't a seat to be had. Television crews jammed the aisles. Technicians with mini-cams stood on chairs. Floodlights from the networks of five nations made the room unbearably hot. Rows and rows of print journalists could see nothing but the backs of the paparazzi, who jammed the area in front of the conference table.

Nicholson, Lange and Rafelson were half an hour late. They were preceded by announcements that only three minutes of taking pictures would be strictly enforced, and then the photographers would have to sit down so those in back could see. Loud cheers from those in back, and sardonic laughter from the paparazzi. Suddenly a wave of excitement ran through the crowd, followed by Rafelson and Nicholson. The paparazzi went into Kodak orgasms, climbing on each other's shoulders to take what will no doubt turn out to be unfocused close-ups of Jack Nicholson's ear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" screamed Richard Roud. (He has been the festival's translator for years and must know that none of the paparazzi fall into those two categories.) A human wall of security men succeeded in escorting Jessica Lange through the crush. Strobe lights were flashing so constantly that the stars were blinded. A fistfight broke out between a TV cameraman and a photographer who was trying to stand in front of him on the same chair.

After 10 minutes of chaos, the photographers were mostly persuaded to desist. It was hard to understand exactly what their excitement was about: They were all taking the same picture of several people seated at a table behind microphones and water pitcher.

"Are you all done?" Roud screamed into his microphone.

"They've been done for weeks," Nicholson said.

It was time for the questions. The questions at a Cannes press conference are almost always as arcane as the photographers are bestial. One question, I see from my notes, touches on Rafelson's motives for remaking “The Postman Always Rings Twice," his choice of Sven Nykvist for cameraman, and rumors that Nicholson had used Gary Gilmore as the inspiration for his performance. By the time the question had been translated into English and the answers translated into French, it all hardly mattered since no one could remember how the exchange had begun.

My favorite exchange went like this:

Q. (From French intellectual in tinted glasses, with cigarette in mouth.) What did you wear during that scene?

A. NICHOLSON: What scene?

Q. Not you, Monsieur Rafelson.

A. RAFELSON: What scene?

Q. That scene of the lovemaking on the table.

A. NICHOLSON: Oh, yeah, that scene.

A. RAFELSON: You mean what did Jack wear?

Q. No, what did you wear?

A. RAFELSON: What did I wear while I was directing the scene?

Q. Oui.

A. RICHARD ROUD: Next question.

Another questioner asked Nicholson what differences there were between working for Stanley Kubrick, who directed him in “The Shining”, and Rafelson, who also directed him in “Five Easy Pieces”.

"Well, Bob works much faster than Stanley. Apart from that, they're both great artists who both think I'm the best actor in the world."

Next question: Why did Rafelson choose Sven Nykvist to be his cinematographer?

"He has worked a great deal in black and white."

"But… your film is in color."

"Yes, but with an awareness of black and white. Also, he is deaf in his right ear and I am deaf in my left ear, so we can communicate very easily. If we were both deaf in the same ear, it would be more difficult."'

Why, asked another journalist, did you both want to make a new version of “The Postman Always Rings Twice”?

Said Rafelson: "Ten years ago, I discussed John Garfield's version of “Postman” with Jack, because I felt that Jack's career would follow the same lines as Garfield's 10 years later. Jack asked me to make a new version of “Postman” thinking that I had always wanted to," said Rafelson.

After an hour of this, Roud announced an end to the press conference, and the guards successfully escorted the stars from the building. What was learned by the press? It is very hard to say. What was the purpose or the conference? Perhaps all the press conferences at Cannes are some form of divine retribution, in which movie stars are taught that if they want to have their moment of glory on a 60-foot screen framed with flowers, they are going to have to pay for that privilege by proving, for an hour afterward, that they are good enough sports to star in a circus.

LINK

Iranian film director Jafar Panahi seeks bail

And his plight is catapulted to the forefront when Juliette Binoche holds a placard that says FREE JAFAR PANAHI, as she receives her Best Actress award.

FAMED Iranian film director Jafar Panahi, held in Tehran since March 1 and on hunger strike for six days, is to hear on Saturday whether he will be granted bail, his wife and his lawyer said.

The two women, who were both able to visit Panahi in the Iranian capital’s Evin prison late last week, said they were hopeful that the Tehran revolutionary court would order the director released until his trial date.

Panahi, who won an award at the 1995 Cannes festival for The White Balloon and scooped the Venice film festival’s top gong in 2000 for The Circle, has been a vocal backer of Iran’s opposition movement.

He was detained, according to Iran’s culture minister, for making an “anti-regime” film about the unrest that rocked the country last year after the disputed presidential election that returned Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to power.

Panahi had been invited to travel to Cannes this week to join the jury that decides the winner of the festival’s top prize, the Palme d’Or, but was prevented from going by his continued detention.

His mentor, Abbas Kiarostami — whose movie Certified Copy is a candidate for this year’s Palme d’Or — on Tuesday denounced the Iranian authorities’ crackdown on artists and called for Panahi’s release.

l An explosive thriller about militants fighting in France for Algerian independence screened at the Cannes film festival last week Friday, in a bitter attack on France’s colonial history.

The far-right National Front party accuse French-Algerian film-maker Rachid Bouchareb of distorting history in Outside Of The Law. The film tells the story of Algerian brothers, driven from their home as children by French colonialists, who grow up to mount an armed resistance movement in France.

Opening with a massacre of Algerian civilians by French soldiers in the town of Setif in 1945 – a controversial historical event some critics say has been misrepresented – the film is one of very few cinematic treatments of the conflict. — Sapa-AFP

LINK

Iranian film director Jafar Panahi seeks bail

And his plight is catapulted to the forefront when Juliette Binoche holds a placard that says FREE JAFAR PANAHI, as she receives her Best Actress award.

FAMED Iranian film director Jafar Panahi, held in Tehran since March 1 and on hunger strike for six days, is to hear on Saturday whether he will be granted bail, his wife and his lawyer said.

The two women, who were both able to visit Panahi in the Iranian capital’s Evin prison late last week, said they were hopeful that the Tehran revolutionary court would order the director released until his trial date.

Panahi, who won an award at the 1995 Cannes festival for The White Balloon and scooped the Venice film festival’s top gong in 2000 for The Circle, has been a vocal backer of Iran’s opposition movement.

He was detained, according to Iran’s culture minister, for making an “anti-regime” film about the unrest that rocked the country last year after the disputed presidential election that returned Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to power.

Panahi had been invited to travel to Cannes this week to join the jury that decides the winner of the festival’s top prize, the Palme d’Or, but was prevented from going by his continued detention.

His mentor, Abbas Kiarostami — whose movie Certified Copy is a candidate for this year’s Palme d’Or — on Tuesday denounced the Iranian authorities’ crackdown on artists and called for Panahi’s release.

l An explosive thriller about militants fighting in France for Algerian independence screened at the Cannes film festival last week Friday, in a bitter attack on France’s colonial history.

The far-right National Front party accuse French-Algerian film-maker Rachid Bouchareb of distorting history in Outside Of The Law. The film tells the story of Algerian brothers, driven from their home as children by French colonialists, who grow up to mount an armed resistance movement in France.

Opening with a massacre of Algerian civilians by French soldiers in the town of Setif in 1945 – a controversial historical event some critics say has been misrepresented – the film is one of very few cinematic treatments of the conflict. — Sapa-AFP

LINK

Mrinal Sen's Khandahar rises from the ruins at Cannes

Mrinal Sen’s Khandahar, screened last night as part of Cannes Classics in the ongoing Film Festival, appeared as fresh from the laboratory as it must have been in 1984. That was the year it was made and shown in this Festival, then as part of A Certain Regard.

Khandahar, much like its name, was in ruins, as hundreds of other Indian movies are, shockingly many of them in the National Film Archive of India at Pune. I have seen them myself there rotting away with little care or concern when I used to visit the Archive for my research into a biography of Adoor Gopalakrishnan, to be published in July by Penguin.

So, it came as a surprise to me that the Archive, meant to preserve and protect the nation’s glorious cinema heritage, was now into a programme of restoring old and priceless movies. Khandahar, is one that has risen like the Phoenix – not from the ashes, but from the ruins. It has been remastered by Reliance MediaWorks, which operates one of the world’s largest restoration facilities.

For all those film buffs and fans of Sen who had assembled at the theatre last night, Khandahar, could not have come as a better classic. When Sen himself, all of 87 years, walked somewhat unsteadily into the auditorium, a hush fell.

Yet, a strong sense of excitement was palpable even in Thierry Fremaux, the Festival’s key man, who introduced Sen to the audience. The master himself was overwhelmed by a nearly packed auditorium that gave him a long standing ovation both at the start and the end of the event, and he said he was happy there was such a large following for Indian cinema. “I had forgotten all about Khandahar till this evening”, he averred.

Khandahar is pure auteur fare that narrates the story of a city photographer (played rivetingly by Naseeruddin Shah), who goes along with two of his friends to a village in ruins. There he meets a blind, dying woman and her lovely young daughter (Shabana Azmi). The mother is waiting for a man who had promised to marry her daughter, but the younger woman, the photographer and his friends all know that it will not happen. For, the man had broken his promise and married someone else. Shah’s Subash impersonates the man, and peace descends on the mother. But playing this little game, though reluctantly, the photographer falls in love with the young girl, his camera lens playing cupid for them.

The original print of Khandahar had scratches, dirt and image warps. The audio was impaired with various anomalies following years of deterioration. The Reliance team repaired it to make it unbelievable new. The visuals are now sharper and consistent, and the audio is clear. The movie seemed perfect in every sense, except for Gita Sen’s (Mrinal’s wife, who essays the mother) awful Hindi diction. Which stands out like a sore thumb especially with an array of such brilliant performers like Shah, Azmi and Pankaj Kapur.

More HERE

Mrinal Sen's Khandahar rises from the ruins at Cannes

Mrinal Sen’s Khandahar, screened last night as part of Cannes Classics in the ongoing Film Festival, appeared as fresh from the laboratory as it must have been in 1984. That was the year it was made and shown in this Festival, then as part of A Certain Regard.

Khandahar, much like its name, was in ruins, as hundreds of other Indian movies are, shockingly many of them in the National Film Archive of India at Pune. I have seen them myself there rotting away with little care or concern when I used to visit the Archive for my research into a biography of Adoor Gopalakrishnan, to be published in July by Penguin.

So, it came as a surprise to me that the Archive, meant to preserve and protect the nation’s glorious cinema heritage, was now into a programme of restoring old and priceless movies. Khandahar, is one that has risen like the Phoenix – not from the ashes, but from the ruins. It has been remastered by Reliance MediaWorks, which operates one of the world’s largest restoration facilities.

For all those film buffs and fans of Sen who had assembled at the theatre last night, Khandahar, could not have come as a better classic. When Sen himself, all of 87 years, walked somewhat unsteadily into the auditorium, a hush fell.

Yet, a strong sense of excitement was palpable even in Thierry Fremaux, the Festival’s key man, who introduced Sen to the audience. The master himself was overwhelmed by a nearly packed auditorium that gave him a long standing ovation both at the start and the end of the event, and he said he was happy there was such a large following for Indian cinema. “I had forgotten all about Khandahar till this evening”, he averred.

Khandahar is pure auteur fare that narrates the story of a city photographer (played rivetingly by Naseeruddin Shah), who goes along with two of his friends to a village in ruins. There he meets a blind, dying woman and her lovely young daughter (Shabana Azmi). The mother is waiting for a man who had promised to marry her daughter, but the younger woman, the photographer and his friends all know that it will not happen. For, the man had broken his promise and married someone else. Shah’s Subash impersonates the man, and peace descends on the mother. But playing this little game, though reluctantly, the photographer falls in love with the young girl, his camera lens playing cupid for them.

The original print of Khandahar had scratches, dirt and image warps. The audio was impaired with various anomalies following years of deterioration. The Reliance team repaired it to make it unbelievable new. The visuals are now sharper and consistent, and the audio is clear. The movie seemed perfect in every sense, except for Gita Sen’s (Mrinal’s wife, who essays the mother) awful Hindi diction. Which stands out like a sore thumb especially with an array of such brilliant performers like Shah, Azmi and Pankaj Kapur.

More HERE

Has Cannes lost the plot?

Its glamour remains – but the world’s top film festival has fallen out of step with modern cinema, says Geoffrey Macnab

Monday, 10 May 2010

If you want to know why film festivals (even Cannes, the biggest of them all) are struggling to maintain their relevance, start with Jean-Luc Godard.

In Cannes next week, Godard, now 79, will be presenting what many believe will be his final feature: Film Socialisme. In advance of the premiere, the arch-provocateur has made a subversive trailer, which lasts under two minutes and shows not just highlights but the entire film speeded up. In the frenetic digital age, Godard is telling us, audiences don't have the time or the patience to go to festivals to watch 35mm prints of art-house movies in cinemas. They want instant 90-second gratification on YouTube.

Godard is one of the legendary figures in Cannes history, leading protests in 1968, showing many of his films there. Now he regards it as a place to sell movies, not to celebrate the art of cinema. "Now, it's just for publicity. People come to Cannes just to advertise their films," he said on one of his last forays to the festival.

In Cannes this year, the chasm between mainstream cinema and art-house festival fare is more gaping than ever. The 63rd festival opens with Ridley Scott's version of Robin Hood. That's just the kind of big-budget event movie that will provide the required images of stars on the red carpet and of swarming paparazzi. However, Scott's riproaring foray to Sherwood Forest isn't representative of the the type of films that will be seen during the rest of the festival fortnight.

The outside world enjoys the diversion of Cannes. Whatever Europe's economic or political woes, Cannes is a fixed point in the calendar: every May, there will always be topless starlets on the beach, egregious publicity stunts, crazy announcements and celebrity gossip. To observers from afar, the event seems enjoyably frivolous. In the public imagination, this is still the playground of Brigitte Bardot and the setting for high-rolling parties on yachts. The intense seriousness with which the festival-goers treat the event adds to the comedy of it all. The colour and glaring light of the Riviera has always made a strange backdrop for an event which revolves around spectators sitting in darkened halls.

The perennial challenge for the festival is to marry the worlds of business and cinephilia. In strong years, this will happen automatically. The films selected for the main competition will excite the critics, sell to distributors all over the world and eventually turn up at "a cinema near you". 2009 offered a vintage crop: Lars von Trier's Antichrist gave off the whiff of scandal and controversy that every festival needs, Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds offered its irreverent B-movie, popcorn vision of the Second World War and two heavyweight art-house films, Michael Haneke's The White Ribbon and Jacques Audiard's A Prophet, provided the required critical ballast.

On paper, this year's competition looks very much flimsier. The selection is tilted heavily toward esoteric art-house fare. Plenty of this looks promising. Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami's first (partly) English language film, The Certified Copy, starring Juliette Binoche as a gallery owner who meets an English author in Tuscany, is intriguing. Kiarostami is one of the most revered film-makers currently working and critics are curious to see how he manages the transition from Iran to Europe. The Japanese director Takeshi Kitano, whose work has become increasingly whimsical and self-indulgent in recent years, is returning to his Yakuza roots with Outrage. Britain's former Palme d'Or winner Mike Leigh, who never makes a bad film, is back in Cannes for the first time since 2002's All or Nothing with Another Year. The new feature tells the story of a happily married middle-aged couple who endure other people's problems.

The Bourne Identity director, Doug Liman, is also in the competition with Fair Game, starring Naomi Watts and Sean Penn. This is about the CIA agent Valerie Plame, whose cover was blown by the Bush administration during the furious politicking about the non-appearance of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Meanwhile, out of competition, there are films from Woody Allen, Oliver Stone and Stephen Frears.

Even with these names, this year's Cannes looks short on real oomph.

The usual pre-Cannes hype hasn't been as strident as normal. Hotel rooms and apartments are easier to book. Parties have been cancelled. In the current straitened times, ostentatiousness is frowned upon – which creates an identity problem for an event like Cannes at which hedonism and conspicuous consumption have always come with the territory. In what appears to be a fit of self-flagellation, BBC Films has decided not to hold its annual beachfront cocktail party – usually one of the key networking events for aspiring British producers. The lingering effects of the credit crunch are still being felt. In the production sector, less movies are currently being made because they are harder to finance. As has been well chronicled, there has been a big contraction in what the US studios call the "speciality sector" – that's to say companies like Miramax, Paramount Vantage, New Line and Warner Independent, who used to back the intelligent, upscale US indie movies that galvanised festivals like Cannes, Venice and Berlin.

It is hardly the festival programmers' fault that they have fewer films to choose from. There is, though, a sense that they are still clinging to an old-fashioned notion of what arthouse cinema should be. It is instructive to consider the ages of some of the directors in official selection this year. There will be a lot of white hair on the red carpet. Godard is in his late seventies. Manoel de Oliveira, who is presenting The Strange Case of Angelica in Un Certain Regard, is 101. Russian auteur Nikita Mikhalkov, who is unveiling his sequel to Burnt by the Sun, is 64. Bertrand Tavernier, also in competition with La Princesse de Montpensier, is 69. Kiarostami and Leigh are also in their late sixties. They are all still producing exceptional work, but they're hardly young turks.

Way back in 1957, François Truffaut, when he was still a fiery young journalist, launched an outspoken attack on Cannes. He wrote that French cinema was dying "from its false legends" and its preoccupation with "quality cinema", and called Cannes "a failure dominated by compromises, schemes and faux pas." If he was still alive, Truffaut might have thought that Cannes today is in need of some creative renewal. We are in a world of 3D and Avatar, of file-sharing and video on demand. Cinema attendance may be booming, but big event movies are dominating at the box-office, not art-house fare. In the face of rapid and jarring technical change, the major European festivals are carrying on much as they have always done, showing 35mm prints of new films by venerable auteurs to audiences of critics who themselves appear to be growing older and older.

There was a time when these festivals seemed at the absolute centre of debates about cinema. Whenever, and wherever, new talent emerged, whether it was film-makers from Iran or Romania or Argentina, the festivals would champion it – and the films would be given an international life on the back of their festival screenings.

Arguably, the role of film festivals is now changing. Where once they showcased the new, they are now more concerned with protecting an old and increasingly endangered tradition of auteur cinema. Movies can now be watched on phones, on TVs and on the internet. The technology of cinema has advanced in rapid fashion. Whether the aesthetics of film-making have kept pace is another question altogether.

Read more HERE

Has Cannes lost the plot?

Its glamour remains – but the world’s top film festival has fallen out of step with modern cinema, says Geoffrey Macnab

Monday, 10 May 2010

If you want to know why film festivals (even Cannes, the biggest of them all) are struggling to maintain their relevance, start with Jean-Luc Godard.

In Cannes next week, Godard, now 79, will be presenting what many believe will be his final feature: Film Socialisme. In advance of the premiere, the arch-provocateur has made a subversive trailer, which lasts under two minutes and shows not just highlights but the entire film speeded up. In the frenetic digital age, Godard is telling us, audiences don't have the time or the patience to go to festivals to watch 35mm prints of art-house movies in cinemas. They want instant 90-second gratification on YouTube.

Godard is one of the legendary figures in Cannes history, leading protests in 1968, showing many of his films there. Now he regards it as a place to sell movies, not to celebrate the art of cinema. "Now, it's just for publicity. People come to Cannes just to advertise their films," he said on one of his last forays to the festival.

In Cannes this year, the chasm between mainstream cinema and art-house festival fare is more gaping than ever. The 63rd festival opens with Ridley Scott's version of Robin Hood. That's just the kind of big-budget event movie that will provide the required images of stars on the red carpet and of swarming paparazzi. However, Scott's riproaring foray to Sherwood Forest isn't representative of the the type of films that will be seen during the rest of the festival fortnight.

The outside world enjoys the diversion of Cannes. Whatever Europe's economic or political woes, Cannes is a fixed point in the calendar: every May, there will always be topless starlets on the beach, egregious publicity stunts, crazy announcements and celebrity gossip. To observers from afar, the event seems enjoyably frivolous. In the public imagination, this is still the playground of Brigitte Bardot and the setting for high-rolling parties on yachts. The intense seriousness with which the festival-goers treat the event adds to the comedy of it all. The colour and glaring light of the Riviera has always made a strange backdrop for an event which revolves around spectators sitting in darkened halls.

The perennial challenge for the festival is to marry the worlds of business and cinephilia. In strong years, this will happen automatically. The films selected for the main competition will excite the critics, sell to distributors all over the world and eventually turn up at "a cinema near you". 2009 offered a vintage crop: Lars von Trier's Antichrist gave off the whiff of scandal and controversy that every festival needs, Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds offered its irreverent B-movie, popcorn vision of the Second World War and two heavyweight art-house films, Michael Haneke's The White Ribbon and Jacques Audiard's A Prophet, provided the required critical ballast.

On paper, this year's competition looks very much flimsier. The selection is tilted heavily toward esoteric art-house fare. Plenty of this looks promising. Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami's first (partly) English language film, The Certified Copy, starring Juliette Binoche as a gallery owner who meets an English author in Tuscany, is intriguing. Kiarostami is one of the most revered film-makers currently working and critics are curious to see how he manages the transition from Iran to Europe. The Japanese director Takeshi Kitano, whose work has become increasingly whimsical and self-indulgent in recent years, is returning to his Yakuza roots with Outrage. Britain's former Palme d'Or winner Mike Leigh, who never makes a bad film, is back in Cannes for the first time since 2002's All or Nothing with Another Year. The new feature tells the story of a happily married middle-aged couple who endure other people's problems.

The Bourne Identity director, Doug Liman, is also in the competition with Fair Game, starring Naomi Watts and Sean Penn. This is about the CIA agent Valerie Plame, whose cover was blown by the Bush administration during the furious politicking about the non-appearance of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Meanwhile, out of competition, there are films from Woody Allen, Oliver Stone and Stephen Frears.

Even with these names, this year's Cannes looks short on real oomph.

The usual pre-Cannes hype hasn't been as strident as normal. Hotel rooms and apartments are easier to book. Parties have been cancelled. In the current straitened times, ostentatiousness is frowned upon – which creates an identity problem for an event like Cannes at which hedonism and conspicuous consumption have always come with the territory. In what appears to be a fit of self-flagellation, BBC Films has decided not to hold its annual beachfront cocktail party – usually one of the key networking events for aspiring British producers. The lingering effects of the credit crunch are still being felt. In the production sector, less movies are currently being made because they are harder to finance. As has been well chronicled, there has been a big contraction in what the US studios call the "speciality sector" – that's to say companies like Miramax, Paramount Vantage, New Line and Warner Independent, who used to back the intelligent, upscale US indie movies that galvanised festivals like Cannes, Venice and Berlin.

It is hardly the festival programmers' fault that they have fewer films to choose from. There is, though, a sense that they are still clinging to an old-fashioned notion of what arthouse cinema should be. It is instructive to consider the ages of some of the directors in official selection this year. There will be a lot of white hair on the red carpet. Godard is in his late seventies. Manoel de Oliveira, who is presenting The Strange Case of Angelica in Un Certain Regard, is 101. Russian auteur Nikita Mikhalkov, who is unveiling his sequel to Burnt by the Sun, is 64. Bertrand Tavernier, also in competition with La Princesse de Montpensier, is 69. Kiarostami and Leigh are also in their late sixties. They are all still producing exceptional work, but they're hardly young turks.

Way back in 1957, François Truffaut, when he was still a fiery young journalist, launched an outspoken attack on Cannes. He wrote that French cinema was dying "from its false legends" and its preoccupation with "quality cinema", and called Cannes "a failure dominated by compromises, schemes and faux pas." If he was still alive, Truffaut might have thought that Cannes today is in need of some creative renewal. We are in a world of 3D and Avatar, of file-sharing and video on demand. Cinema attendance may be booming, but big event movies are dominating at the box-office, not art-house fare. In the face of rapid and jarring technical change, the major European festivals are carrying on much as they have always done, showing 35mm prints of new films by venerable auteurs to audiences of critics who themselves appear to be growing older and older.

There was a time when these festivals seemed at the absolute centre of debates about cinema. Whenever, and wherever, new talent emerged, whether it was film-makers from Iran or Romania or Argentina, the festivals would champion it – and the films would be given an international life on the back of their festival screenings.

Arguably, the role of film festivals is now changing. Where once they showcased the new, they are now more concerned with protecting an old and increasingly endangered tradition of auteur cinema. Movies can now be watched on phones, on TVs and on the internet. The technology of cinema has advanced in rapid fashion. Whether the aesthetics of film-making have kept pace is another question altogether.

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Universal's 'Robin Hood' To Open Cannes

Ridley Scott's Robin Hood has booked a slot at the Cannes Film Festival, with the Russell Crowe-Cate Blanchett-starrer screening out of competition on May 12th. That is the same day it will be released in France, and two days before its May 14 worldwide release through Universal Pictures. This follows Fox's expectation to open Oliver Stone's Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps, which was cited as the reason the film changed its release from April 23rd to September 24th. Universal, which tried unsuccessfully to sell Green Zone with a Bourne Identity-like marketing campaign, has set up Robin Hood to look like the second coming of Scott's and Crowe's epic collaboration, Gladiator. After a rough run for Universal, the stakes couldn't be higher here. A splashy Cannes launch certainly helped last year -- Universal was a 50% partner on The Weinstein Co's Inglourious Basterds -- and could give a boost to Robin Hood and its producers, Brian Grazer, Scott and Crowe.

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Universal's 'Robin Hood' To Open Cannes

Ridley Scott's Robin Hood has booked a slot at the Cannes Film Festival, with the Russell Crowe-Cate Blanchett-starrer screening out of competition on May 12th. That is the same day it will be released in France, and two days before its May 14 worldwide release through Universal Pictures. This follows Fox's expectation to open Oliver Stone's Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps, which was cited as the reason the film changed its release from April 23rd to September 24th. Universal, which tried unsuccessfully to sell Green Zone with a Bourne Identity-like marketing campaign, has set up Robin Hood to look like the second coming of Scott's and Crowe's epic collaboration, Gladiator. After a rough run for Universal, the stakes couldn't be higher here. A splashy Cannes launch certainly helped last year -- Universal was a 50% partner on The Weinstein Co's Inglourious Basterds -- and could give a boost to Robin Hood and its producers, Brian Grazer, Scott and Crowe.

LINK