Reflecting on Cannes from afar
by Eric Kohn
After a long, virtually sleepless week of diving through the riotous choreography of film industry self-congratulation during the Cannes Film Festival, I left the south of France with my perspective of the business intact, even if my judgment felt a little frazzled. Above all else, Cannes deserves attention as a fascinating set of contradictions: Big and commercial, artistically inspired and enhanced by European lyricism, it works however you want it to work. As with any conflicting situation, there are valuable lessons to be learned. Here are a few that I picked up, with some notes from some of the enterprising personalities I encountered along the way.
THE STRUGGLE NEVER ENDS Unless you're Steven Spielberg, that is. While the director strode into the Palais des Festivals for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Crystal Skulls on Sunday, decidedly more indie (not Indy) auteurs continued to labor away in the name of small time art. Chief among them, veteran filmmaker James Toback brought his experimental Mike Tyson documentary — called, aptly enough, Tyson — and spoke frankly about his desire to get thing out there however possible. At a luncheon with reporters, he didn't mince words. "If I ever get even on this movie, I'll be happy," he said while stuffing his face with hotel catering. "Being a director is as close as you can get to running a country, but it's temporary. You get overthrown as you soon as you deliver the print." A silence filled the room, and he let it ring.
MOVIES ONLY MATTER BECAUSE THE WORLD DOES Jim Jarmusch showed up at the Directors' Fortnight on Saturday to deliver a startling edict that ought to become the pledge of allegiance at film schools around the world. First, he outlined the history of the sidebar by pointing out the chaotic events of 1968, including the controversial firing of Cinemateque founder Henri Langlois, the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, and the assassination of Martin Luther King (not to mention the election of Richard Nixon). "Out of the protests here in Cannes, [the Fortnight] was born," Jamusch explained. "Its purpose was to present more radical and innovative films...I only mention this historical context for one simple reason: Those of us who make films, and love films, we should always remember, in the end, that they're just movies." The room stayed quiet as a woman standing alongside Jarmusch on the stage translated his words, and then the crowd erupted into applause. "I'm sorry my speech wasn't funny," he added when things died down. "I take this seriously. Thank you all very much."
CREATIVE FREEDOM DOESN'T MAKE THINGS ANY EASIER This is distinct from the first lesson because it's a question of aesthetic interests, not business tactics. With his strange dual nature as both a Hollywood phenomenon and a ferociously independent visionary, the man who embodies both Cannes extremes is unquestionably Steven Soderbergh. His highly experimental, oddly anti-climactic four-hour-plus biopic Che, finished just days before it premiered on Thursday to mixed reactions and questions of whether the public would ever get to check it out in its current form, comes from a universe totally separate from the brain-candy mentality of Ocean's Thirteen, which Soderbergh brought over last year. Perhaps he's one-of-a-kind, but it might make more sense to consider him a beacon of hope for the always middle ground.