Day 1
Feel like I am in an episode of Entourage. It was hard to appreciate the enormity of this festival last night, when I was wandering through the central Palais, my head fuzzy with jetlag. But today, the celebs are everywhere, and the glamour is almost infectious enough to make up for the three hours spent unceremoniously waiting (in tuxedos, no less) to beg tickets to the festival's opening. Got to see Blindness, but probably should have listened to the advice of all the people leaving the premiere, and paid more attention to the scowl on Mischa Barton's face as she skulked out, and stayed away. Still, felt like a star walking the red carpet.
Day 2
Need I say more than Kung Fu Panda? Definitely had a moment with Brangelina, who was also at the screening - I swear, my gaze met their oddly conjoined one. Have a feeling I made their day. Jack Black and Jackie Chan showed up too, but seeing as how I'm now BFF with some serious A-listers, I was totally out of their league. Also got to see Waltz with Bashir, an Israeli war doc. Had to strain my ears to hear above the snoring of this guy sitting near me. Guess I was under the media-induced false impression that the Mideast crisis was actually interesting.
Day 3
A dream come true. At the screening of The Third Wave, I sat behind (head of this year's festival jury) Sean Penn, Bono, Michael Moore (who has, it seems, been super-sized) and Natalie Portman. Nat - yes, I call her Nat - was definitely into me. Probably would have really enjoyed the touching documentary on tsunami relief, but was way too distracted by our budding relationship.
Day 5
Apparently, what all the cool kids are doing nowadays is using long (and I mean loooooong) shots to evoke a sense of time onscreen. May be okay in small doses, but if I have to see one more shot of lethargic Mexicans walking down a strip of highway for ten minutes. well, let's just say Harvey Weinstein is going to be getting a very angry e-mail.
Day 6
Art film, art film, art film. Indiana Jones! Finally something I can turn my brain off for. Even in a half-stupor, the aliens-shanghaiing-an-Aztec-temple-and-flying-off thing was a bit much. Which is what I tried to tell Steve (y'know, as in Spielberg), but I guess he couldn't hear me or something. I'm sure he'll be all ears later when I hang out with him and Harry Ford later. They're going to have the time of their lives, and they don't even know it yet.
Day 11
Been way too busy to write the last few days. Saw some awesome movies - Synecdoche, NY, Tokyo Sonata and The Changeling all rocked. Of course, just as I'm getting into the swing of things, the festival winds down. I guess it's just as well, though. I'm no longer allowed on Brangelina's yacht, Jack Black got me banned from any and all beach screenings, and Philip Seymour Hoffman won't stop calling me after that one night. I can't believe I have to go back to a world without red carpets, champagne and people who indulge their every whim. Penn-in-Cannes, au revoir. Nat, I think I'll miss you most of all.
