Cannes Film Festival
By Laura Kemp
I don't know what's happening to me, but lately I find myself at glamorous events. I'm going to the closing ceremony of the Film Festival in Cannes And well, although I often have to apply for press passes as a journalist, this time I'm on the other side of the rope. The festival has been going on for a while, but on Sunday evening the most important film awards will be presented; the Golden Palms.
When I tell my dear friend David Laport (coincidentally one of the best young designers in the Netherlands) what awaits me, I can come to his studio immediately to try on dresses. What a dilemma, especially between these two! My intuition leads me for this occasion to the black dress, my absolute favorite, but not exactly a case that slips smoothly over your head. Fortunately, David and his interns give me extensive instructions on how to get the dress closed. ‘Push firmly under the bust, middle hook, top zipper, bottom hook, bottom zipper. Got it.’ ‘Good luck, darling,’ are his last words before I have to do it without him.
With the dress over my shoulder in the garment bag, I cycle over the canal and wonder what other people do to prepare for something like this. I find it quite difficult; beyond ‘just relaxing in the bath’ and ‘getting a good night's sleep’, I can't think of much.
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24 hours later, it's already here. The dress is closed, and in the hotel, I style my hair (the only ‘hairstyle’ I can do myself) and put on my pumps from Zara.
With my company, I walk to the building. It's incredibly busy, and spectators are crowding along the road. To my great surprise, I see dozens of girls dressed up standing by the side holding signs with texts like ‘ONE TICKET PLEEAAASE’. As soon as I look them in the eyes, they start begging. I ask a girl about sixteen if it makes sense. She says it sometimes works.
In front of the red carpet, there is a queue and a red carpet manager. That means you get a signal when it's your turn. In front of me walks actress Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, the sister of Carla Bruni. She glides like a snail over the carpet and allows herself to be photographed extensively from all angles. When it's my turn, there are occasional clicks, of course, because of David's beautiful dress. I wonder if I should maybe take a selfie now that I'm here. Nice for later? I decide that I don't dare and walk on. Upon entering the hall, I see that everything happening on the red carpet is being projected live onto the white screen! Afterwards, I'm glad I just maintained that sturdy Dutch pace.
I'm escorted to the second row where an A4 sheet with my name is waiting on the chair. The presenter starts talking at length in French with theatrical hand gestures. Against the podium stands a row of photographers, who start flashing like crazy as soon as one of the winners gets a lump in their throat or sheds a tear.
The Film Festival in Cannes is of course prestigious and important. But the event itself is mainly quite formal and stiff. The French, as a principle, do not speak English, and the jury members may sit in a corner but say nothing. It's a shame that Jake Gyllenhaal and Sienna Miller, who are ten meters away from you, are not allowed to talk. It seems like they feel that way too.
The closing ceremony of the Cannes Film Festival is special to experience, but it also makes me realize that such an event is actually created by the television channels and the photos, and that people are just people.
On the way back to the hotel, I'm reflecting on the evening when a man asks me if I would like to try his electric skateboard. The best encounters often happen on the bare sidewalk tiles rather than on red carpets.
SALUT!
