Notes from Cannes on Monday, Part I:
As I take the train from Nice to Cannes, I eavesdrop on a group of American tourists. They are making a day trip to Cannes in the hope of seeing celebrities. Thus far, they have already had one celebrity sighting during their European tour: Matt Lauer stepped on their feet in Barcelona.
In Cannes itself, the streets are mobbed. It is easy to distinguish between two groups: the lucky festival goers, with their festival passes hanging around their necks everywhere they go in town, and everybody else. Since I decided to come to Cannes after the registration deadline, I will have to apply for late registration, and there is no guarantee I will be given it. I therefore look longingly at the lucky passholders. I feel like an ordinary sneech gazing upon a star-bellied one.
More to follow; I’m typing this on a public Internet kisok at the UK Film Center, a tend along the beach. The breeze from the sea is tickling my neck as I write it–but so are the gazes of other people waiting for the computer. I don’t want to monopolize it.