Oops.  I thought I had an interview with Chris Jones Friday morning at 11, but it turned out we had a miscommunication about the word “tomorrow”  when employed in an e-mail sent at 2:45 AM and, alas, missed one another.   Next time.  I was sorry to miss the opportunity to catch up, but I was admittedly grateful for the extra sleep – ah, blessed snooze button. By noon-ish we made our way over to the Marche for one last time (stopping for a sangria en route – I’m such a sucker for tradition.) We dropped off some remaining materials at the press box area, then met Nat & J at the central café to touch base before their final meetings.  Lost in  shop talk, we were suddenly interrupted by a loud disturbance:  shouting, banging, shoving, temporary walls tipping over – really?  A violent fight had broken out in a nearby booth.  People ran across the plaza to watch.  Somebody pulled out their flip camera and yelled, “And action!” Laughter followed, then somebody finally broke it up – the assailant cursing as he was dragged off.

We never found out what exactly transpired, but it wasn’t entirely surprising.  It seemed like tensions were running high among some and I wonder if there’s a Cannes cabin fever that affects those who spend the duration of the fest in non-stop business negotiations.  All work and no play… as they say.

I thought of Producer Guy whom I met that first week who’d lamented not being able to see movies due to endless meetings and wondered if he’d had any fun at all on his trip.  Sometimes when I meet “industry folk” I wonder how much of what they do is what they actually got into all of this for.

Well, by 1:30 on Friday we decided that our work here was done at least.  The rest of our stay was devoted to pure pleasure (not that it hadn’t been pleasurable up until now.)

We had the most wonderful lunch with Barbie and Georg at Café Roma where we finally checked off foie gras from our to do list – AMAZING!)   What a treat to be reunited with Barbie after our first meeting in Munster several years back and to also discover our respective partners complement us perfectly.  We shared details of our upcoming projects and resolved to help each other make them happen.  I can’t share details just yet, but it felt like the beginning of great things.

One of my fave things about being here was that everything felt like an adventure of sorts, whether it was work or play.  Like, for instance, when Barbie asked our waiter, “Might it be possible to get some olives?”

He furled his eyebrows in disgust and proclaimed (in a thick French accent), “Olives?! You want olives?! Imposible, Madame!  Imposible!  Because I am a rude French waiter and I refuse!”  He played it deadpan, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away (as did the small dish of olives with which he soon returned.)   He entertained us the rest of the multi-hour meal that still ended far too soon.  But, alas, we were actually due back at the villa to prepare dinner shortly – oops!  We said reluctant goodbyes, but this time I know we shall all enjoy each other’s company again soon.  It is simply necessary.

We dropped by the market en route to the villa and, though anything but hungry, grabbed some lamb chops for the evening’s BBQ, more cheese, chocolate and several bottles of wine and fruit to make sangria.  The villa was already hopping when we returned and dinner and screenings were a blast.

My fave of the evening was Marc Kess’s Mildred Richards which is the world’s first Radio Film Picture and let me say it is just way effin’ cool.  Mildred Richards was originally a radio drama (i.e. in the public domain) and a Radio Film Picture is a film shot to go with the original recording.  Kess did an amazing job – it looks like a genuine 40s noir film.  He’s making more and if you get the chance to see one, by all means do.  In the meantime, check out his great website for more details.

After a number of fun shorts, and a horror film shot beautifully in Prague (how is it I still haven’t made it there?)  Ra, Nat, Jane and I did something we’d planned at Ginger’s the night before.  We had a real old-fashioned girlie dress up party in my room – 80’s iTunes played as we drank wine and had tickle fights in our panties (yeah right, Boys – like that’s really what we do when you’re not looking.)  We did dress to the nines and engage in girl talk though before heading back out.  A movie screened on the beach casting a lovely glow on the Croisette.  We returned to Ginger’s for cocktails and dance music followed by a late night return trip to La Pizza where we met an authentic rude French waiter.  And, might I add, I’ve never found any French folks whom have lived up to that whole “rude French” stereotype, but, Man!  Did this guy have a broomstick crammed way up there – another experience checked off the ‘to do’ list.

We returned late and yet the villa was still buzzing with chatter and imbibing.  Ah, home sweet home – at least for another 2 days anyway – sigh.

After my morning laps, I slipped out of my swimsuit and looked in the mirror, horrified.  I raced out of the bathroom to show Agustin, “What the HELL is that?!”  I demanded as I showed him the foreign sight.  He smiled, “Those would be tan lines,” he patiently explained.  I was stunned, “I have melanin?!”  Fancy that.

You could really feel things winding down by Thursday.  We took some final meetings at the Marche, though many of the booths were already abandoned.  We ended early and partook of our daily sangria ritual with Nat, J and Ra who had a super busy day ahead.  The good buzz on Birthday had resulted in a number of meetings and it was fun to see them all abuzz with the glow of imminent success.  It’s so reassuring to see true talent and hard work being rewarded.  We toasted to “teapots for us all!” which has become a mantra of sorts.

En route back to the villa, we stocked up at the seafood market for the evening’s pre-screening feast.  It felt good to return to the bosom of our Cannes Indie family and dinner at home (shellfish, sausages, cheeses, bread and of course the endlessly flowing wine) was enjoyed as our growing family mingled, chatted and laughed.

The previous evening’s shorts had been sold out and we heard wonderful things about the films we missed (note to self: learn to teleport and, ideally, be at 2 places at once) I soon discovered kindred spirits in musician/filmmakers Thomas and Jillie Simon whose music video for their own unique version of  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” had been part of the block.  BTW, yes they secured permission and it’s nothing like you’d ever think. This is no mere cover song.

Thomas travels the world “recording with local musicians in Indonesia, Brazil, India, Middle East, etc. and utilizing all the tracks, turning those into rhythm/sound samples and fusing it with his take of alternative rock & xtc to create together with partner Jillie Simon” (description stolen from their myspace page)  and it’s truly extraordinary.

Thomas explained he often recognizes familiar rhythms in traditional ethnic music that he then translates into a contemporary pop song.   His partner Jillie adds her haunting vocals and the results are hauntingly beautiful.  You can now check out their Teen Spirit Video ONLINE HERE.

The shorts were fun and we ran into Deon Hayman, whose charming The Don of Virgil High we’d caught at the NBC Universal Cuts festival last year (along with Iman Zawahry’s Tough Crowd.  I mention this because we saw Iman’s follow-up film the super funny madcap comedy Undercover (about a Muslim cop sent undercover in a pig-napping case) at the Gasparilla International Film Festival back in March, which is where we saw another fun short called High Heels directed by Brett Carlson who, lo and behold screened his hysterical short  Take My Wife this very night at Cannes Independent.  Small world, eh?  Brett was in attendance as well and we marveled how all roads lead back to the Gasparilla International Film Fest (with 5 fellow alum here in attendance at this fest.)  Crazy.

Incidentally, keep your eyes open for the crazy comedy of Brett Carlson.  His short is a sample for his feature and it was a total riot – imagine a Three’s Company-type miscommunication comedy of errors with the extremes and edge of  The Hangover, yet told with a fresh and entertaining voice.  I’d totally watch the feature.

After the shorts we saw Tales From the Catholic Church of Elvis, a one-woman-show-turned micro-budget feature, which looked great and had an interesting approach in its transition from stage to screen. Then there was some wine and discussion after before we headed down into town.  We’d been told to check out the Grand Hotel’s bar, but in all honesty it wasn’t all that grand and I had a hankering for ice cream.  Nat was dining with Ra and Aussie friend Jane who’d just flown in and texted suggesting we meet for an after dinner cocktail.  Fortunately, we discovered a cocktail bar/ice cream place right off the Croisette and a place named Ginger’s would never be the same

Much wine and ice cream were consumed as plans for the remainder of the trip were discussed to an eclectic soundtrack ranging from early Michael Jackson to bad techno.  I was sharing my philosophy on the healing powers of milkshakes when Nat declared, “Devi’s milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!” We giggled until suddenly, as if on cue, the last song ended and,  Kelis’ hit Milkshake bellowed from the speakers.   Whoa.  “Use your power for good, “I cautioned her as we jammed in our booth.  Synchronicity was running rampant.

By the time we returned home, the post final screening wine chat was still in full swing, so we joined before bed.  I felt a bit sad as my head hit the pillow though.  How could this all pass by so damn fast?  I guess it’s good to leave wanting more, but did we really have to leave at all?  I wondered as I drifted off to sleep, “How many lifetimes exist in a single life?” (incidentally – thanks, Richard! – hope you don’t mind I stole photos off your FB.  We didn’t take NEARLY enough!)

When you awaken to a book deal, a TV deal and a possible distribution deal before breakfast, chances are it’s not gonna be a total crap day.  And to make it that much sweeter, the pool was algae-free at last – splendid indeed!

Yes, congrats to Agustin whose morning e-mail revealed he’s landed a book deal(!) for his first pop book with a a major publisher (he’s authored numerous academic texts and a bijillion articles thus far, but popular press is a whole new territory.)  I begged him to invite me to dinner with Jon Stewart if his book tour includes the Daily Show – fingers crossed.    If that wasn’t exciting enough, he also got asked to make another TV guest appearance (this time on National Geographic with a very exciting celebrity guest host – but we’ll save that fun tidbit for when it airs.)  And a quick check of my own e-mail revealed we’ve successfully negotiated domestic distribution terms for Death in Charge and contracts shall soon follow.  Hooray!

Wednesday was another full day at the market for us.  We took some more meetings and I ran into film fest buddy and one-man-indie-film guru/cult icon Chris Jones, who was leading a group through the endless booths, sharing the wealth of his vast knowledge.  They were to shoot an episode of their new show at Cannes and suggested I pop by for an interview.  “Fun – count me in,” I responded as we dashed off to our respective appointments.  Several more distributors requested screeners and we felt reasonably secure that we’d hit the most appropriate of the bigger companies that might be the right home for trippin’.

After,  we caught our first actual market screening – the long awaited Mad Cow having been tantalized by the great posters, chicks in t-shirts and other promotional stunts.  These guys know how to market a movie.  The question remained, however, do they actually know how to make a movie.  The answer:  a resounding yes!

Mad Cow is not for all tastes.  I heard the producer announce that this movie is best viewed drunk and high.  And, no doubt, the drunk and high will be particularly delighted by it for sure.  But I was neither drunk nor high and still enjoyed myself.  Mad Cow is surprisingly charming.  An ultra low-budget movie shot in film, it somehow has an early 80s look to it reminiscent of  The Gods Must Be Crazy and the best of classic Troma, with humor homages ranging from Monty Python, to Mel Brooks to Spike Jones (the Vaudevillian-esque musician, not the music director-turned big director, Kiddies) and Mystery Science Theater as well.

This is a movie that doesn’t take itself seriously which is precisely why it works so well.  If you just go along for the ride you will likely find yourself laughing and groaning aloud.  The foley alone was a treat.  I nearly lost it early on before it had revealed its full level of parody and a cat walking by emitted a human voice that simply said, “Meow.”  I don’t know why it’s funny – it simply is.  No deep analysis is required.

It will be very interesting to see how Mad Cow fares.  They certainly did their job promoting it.  As I reiterated before, you cannot judge much by a market screening and the last thing you’d want as a filmmaker is to watch your film in such a context.  This was the third and final screening of Mad Cow with about 20 in attendance (from what I have gathered that’s pretty impressive.  Many films screen but once and are lucky to attract even 5 viewers.  The market’s pretty flooded and it’s not easy to stand out, much less raise interest in your project.).

I was happy for the filmmakers that a number of us vocally reacted with laughs and such, but the majority of the folks were gone within the first 20 minutes.  This says nothing about the film, mind you.  That’s what buyers do.  Watch the first 5-20 minutes, make their decisions, leave.  Yuck.  Good luck, Mad Cow – we’re rooting for you!

After the screening we met up with J, Nat and Ra for our mid-day sangria.  Nat ran up first exclaiming, “I got your next blog title!)  This has been an ongoing joke since our Anchorage days.  Somebody says something amusing and we all comment, “That’d be a good title for the blog” which stems from a previous recurring joke that hails from Paige & Hadley’s Prom From Hell, “That’d be a good name for a band.”

Anyway, Nat re-enacted an entire hysterical scene she’d just witnessed in the market in which some poor sales agent who looked on the verge of tears assured his angry superiors,  “I wasn’t selling, I was facilitating!”  Ah, the market.  Definitely blog-title-worthy.

We were looking forward to a fun night back at the Cannes Independent Fest, but after several more meetings at the market we ran into a distributor who’d seemed particularly pumped about our puppet and he strongly urged us to check out a horror film they represented that was screening at 7:30 – d’oh!  It was for buyers only, but he’d save a pass for me.  We agreed and figured it would be good for research purposes.  It did sound interesting.  They compared it to Evil Dead (a personal fave) and shared that it was made for $30,000 Aussie, considerably more than trippin’, but still a paltry sum.

It was shown in a tiny screening room with about 12 of us present, half of whom were just horror fans and not even buyers.  This was a brilliant education.  My heart sunk a little as I noted the fabulous FX and awesome production design, beautiful cinematography, great sound – definitely in another league from our little film.  And there was one quick jolt scare right up front as we learned is so crucial, but then something interesting happened – or rather, nothing interesting happened.

The film had some creepy moments, the acting was very competent and, as I said, it really did LOOK beautiful.  But, man, was it dull.  Most of the buyers were gone in the first 5 minutes, the rest within the first 10 – way sooner than Mad Cow.  Who knows? Maybe they’d seen all they needed to and bolted out to call the distributors and make an offer.  But this did not feel like an engaged crowd – and half of us were horror fans there for the mere purpose of being entertained.

Then in the final scene, realization hit.  I whispered to Agustin, “Oh my god, we’ve seen this before.”  He came out of his bored stupor and cocked his head, “Nope.  I haven’t.”  Actually, I was right.  He had.  It played at a horror fest where Death in Charge screened several months back.   I had watched the first 10 minutes, fallen asleep and awakened for the final five minutes.  Agustin had watched the entire movie and still does not recall it.

I’ll refrain from mentioning the title.  I don’t want to diss a fellow indie filmmaker.  He accomplished an amazing feat.  Technically, the film is most impressive and I can’t imagine how they pulled it off for such a tiny budget.  I would have guessed a million easy.  I suspect, in fact, that it was a calling card for an FX house as the director also did the FX.  It was the script that was lacking.  I just didn’t care.  The story itself was not very compelling and far too slow.  It was guilty of what too many horror films are guilty – 20 minutes of actual plot stretched out into 90 minutes of movie.  It also relied too heavily on camera angles and sound design to elicit scares.  What little tension there was did not come organically from one’s investment in the actual characters or story. Also, while the Evil Dead was an apt comparison as far as theme and some of the fx were concerned, it missed the most important parts of that series – the heart and the humor.  There was not a trace of humor in this film.  It took itself far too seriously, and therefore I could not.  It was cold, distant, alas boring.

As  we exited the market, Agustin commented, “I don’t think trippin’s their thing,” referring to the distribution company.   I shrugged, “Probably not, but it’s impossible to say.  We’re talking about apples and oranges.  Besides, that film seriously would have benefited from a puppet, dontcha think?”

We grabbed a bottle of wine at one of our fave outdoor cafes in Old Town and found ourself deep in discussion about the day’s revelations.  I actually felt empowered.  The lessons I learned the day before came into practice in the film we’d just watched.  It certainly fulfilled the requirements of the “checklist” (see previous blog entry for details) and, as such, would no doubt make a profit.  Good for them.  Better for us.  Production values are, in fact, the easy part.  They merely require raising sufficient funds (or in-kind donations) from folks who know their craft and the equipment to support them.  We can do that.  Knowing how to entertain an audience, coming up with an engaging story with likable characters, having an original artistic voice is the hard part.  We can do that, too.

It was getting late, but the weather was perfect, street music (lots of accordions in Cannes) and lively chatter filled the warm night air – there was nowhere else I’d rather be, nothing else I’d rather be doing.  I felt really good about things – where we’ve come from, where we’re headed and the wonderful journey that would take us there.

Suddenly, madness ensued.  A woman in formal attire rounded a corner with her entourage, wailing, tears pouring down her face.  We only got a bit of the story, but it sounded like she’d been horribly humiliated.  Our kind waitress brought her a complimentary glass of wine.  I love Europe.  Shortly thereafter, an angry man stomped down the alley from the opposite direction, smashing bottles against the brick walls in an unrelated fit of rage.

Agustin and I decided to head back up the hill to our less hostile environment.  I thought about the tale Nat had told about the sniveling sales agent and his angry bosses, I thought about other unhappy people I’d witnessed during the day (LOTS of scared, desperate and tense looking people in the marche.)  In Roger Ebert’s “Notebook on Cannes” he mentions how exhausting the full 2 weeks are and how they really start to take their toll as things wind down.  I suddenly realized just what a wonderful gift the Cannes Independent Film Fest truly was.  I did not feel jaded or tired at all.  To the contrary, I’d never felt more alive and was dreading the end.  I suspect Agustin was in a similar space.  I held out my hand to him and chanted, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Sclemeel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated.”

He grabbed my hand and we broke out into a spontaneous round of the Laverne and Shirley theme song as we skipped the rest of the climb home:
We’re gonna do it!

Give us any chance, we’ll take it.
Give us any rule, we’ll break it.
We’re gonna make our dreams come true.
Doin’ it our way.

Nothin’s gonna turn us back now,
Straight ahead and on the track now.
We’re gonna make our dreams come true,
Doin’ it our way.

There is nothing we won’t try,
Never heard the word impossible.
This time there’s no stopping us.
We’re gonna do it.

On your mark, get set, and go now,
Got a dream and we just know now,
We’re gonna make our dream come true.
And we’ll do it our way, yes our way.
Make all our dreams come true,
And do it our way, yes our way,
Make all our dreams come true

For me and you.

We arrived back to find Richard, Erich, some Cannes Indie regulars and some newbies still on the veranda with brandy, deep in discussion.  We joined them, hearing about the wonderful things we’d missed and sharing our own adventures and lessons learned from the day.  It was so nice to come home.  I felt bad for the unhappy people below whose paradise had turned sour.  Sucks to be them.  This really is the way to do Cannes.  Hell, this is the way to do life.  Some lessons are harder to learn than others, but it’s all good if you get the balance right.  I’ve never slept more peacefully.

We had back-to-back meetings with sales agents and distributors on Tuesday and what an education that turned out to be.  By now Agustin had become a pro at pitching our movie and he and I formed an effective tag team in these follow-up meetings.  Folks seemed surprisingly tickled to meet a female director which, in truth, makes me a bit sad.Interestingly, we found people were more turned on by the comedy element than the horror aspect of our movie.  A particularly candid and informative sales rep shared some especially valuable advice with us.  Of all our meetings, she was my favorite -  super bright, concise and fabulously sardonic. In seconds she had won my confidence that she knew what she was talking about, which is becoming increasingly rare.  The more I learn, the more I think too many people are merely “playing movie business” without really having much of a clue about movies, audiences and life in general, but I digress.

Cool female sales agent explained her company only goes for “high-end horror” which translates: pristine production values (shot in HD or film) and at least the appearance of a serious approach (i.e. no Troma-esque B-movies).  She suggested that a couple of name actors are helpful, though not crucial.  Some sort of hook helps.  Plot and acting are far less important unfortunately.  She herself prefers “good” movies, but they “don’t necessarily sell.”

She showed us a poster of a war thriller they represent and confessed, “This movie isn’t any good, but check out the art work.  And it looks and sounds great.  Too bad it’s boring and poorly written, but we can sell it for sure – especially to Asian markets which are the ones that really matter.”

She got interested when we explained ours is really more of a comedy.  “Now that gives us some flexibility!” She checked out our DVD box and liked our artwork a lot (go, Ian!)  “Good just enough pot references without too much.  Does it have bathroom humor?” she asked hopeful, to which I confessed, “I guess a little.”  She frowned, “Too bad.  Bathroom humor really sells.  Low-brow’s great.  It doesn’t translate if it’s too intelligent.”  D’oh!

I suppose I should have felt discouraged, but I actually had to stifle a giggle.  That sounds like something our former president might’ve said.  I sure hope our movie isn’t “misunderestimated.”  Oh well, we are clearly not living in an era of extreme intellectualism and I’d rather know the rules and find a way to do what I want and STILL get it out there, so this was all immensely helpful.

So, I dutifully added, “Did we mention there’s a puppet?”

“Really?” she asked, enthused (as we’re learning, everybody loves a puppet – more thanks, Ian!)

She requested a screener that she promised to review after the market adding, “My husband’s a total pothead so I’ll watch it with him.  He’s a better judge of this genre.  Regardless, of whether or not we’re interested, I’ll be in touch and tell you why or why not.  And I can probably point you in the right direction if it’s a pass for us.”  She seemed sincere and I thanked her for being so helpful and meant it.

We took numerous other meetings and picked up a bunch of other valuable info.  In a nutshell, and artistic merit completely aside mind you, here’s what you ABSOLUTELY want to be sure to include in your movie if you’re interested in landing decent international distribution:

1)    A dynamic title and great artwork that really sells a titillating movie (whether or not it’s the movie you’ve actually made because this is about selling, not good filmmaking.)  A good tagline with a hook also helps (my personal fave:  Mad Cow’s “Boy . Meat. Girl.”)  and write a compelling logline and synopsis – ( again, they don’t have to reflect more than the first 5 minutes of your film. selling your movie has surprisingly little to do with your actual movie sadly.)

2)    Pristine production values, shot on HD or film, great sound

3)    The first 5 minutes (and ideally 10) need to kick ass – apparently, the rest of the movie can suck if you’ve met with the first two criteria, only the QC folks will likely watch it all the way through and they only care about #2 (pun intended)

4)    If you can’t get name actors, get super hot, young ones (if it’s a genre film, make sure there’s some good female nudity in there)

5)    Keep dialogue to a minimum.  If it’s horror, you need decent FX, if it’s comedy make sure there’s lots of low-brow visual gags.

6)  If you hope to make an actual profit off your independent film and you have no stars, try to shoot it for under $30,000 (if it’s horror, get it into the Sitges Film Festival.  Most distributors with whom we spoke seemed unimpressed by any others outside of the super biggies – Cannes, Berlin, Sundance, Toronto, Venice.)

6)    If you can’t comply with enough of the other criteria, make sure you have a puppet, female director, and/or make them laugh a lot and they’ll at least pretend to be interested in your project.

We had more requests for screeners than I’d expected and a couple companies felt like they might even be good fits if we decide we’re ready to go this route.  Regardless, the education was invaluable and we were glad to cut our teeth on this process in a no-pressure context.

After a hard day’s work, Agustin and I grabbed lunch at an outdoor café where we dined on the most amazing mussels, duck and accompanied by our daily sangria.  We were also  afforded the fun opportunity of sitting next to this Israeli couple, the woman of which was a participant in an official Cannes Film Fest fellowship that had put her up in Paris for 5 months while she worked on her screenplay.  We swapped stories about writing, film fests and some of the crazy people we’ve met along our journey, and I noted once again how some of the most valuable information acquired while at a fest comes in the most unexpected places.  I learned about a lot of international opportunities (some similar to AFI’s DWW) that seem right up my alley (hell, any excuse to spend time in Europe would suffice, but if it helps me make movies all the better!)

After, we forewent our usual pain au chocolat in favor of a proper French macaron (divine!), grabbed a champagne at the Petite Majestic (far less chaotic at this hour) and met up with J, Nat and Ra in line to catch Gregg Araki’s new film Kaboom. Sadly, this turned out to be a market screening rather than an official Cannes screening and was only open to buyers, rendering my professional badge utterly useless.  Sigh.

No worries, however, as we had a fine Plan B.  Agustin had scored us invites to a swanky catered beach party at the American Pavilion where they would premiere some film about which we knew nothing.  We arrived a bit early, so crashed a couple of other parties at other pavilions beforehand scoring free wine, beer and munchies to tied us over.

The American Pavilion is one of the bigger tents and the champagne was flowing alongside yummy pretentious finger foods.  The weather was perfect and we had a blast, sitting on the deck overlooking the gorgeous beach.  We were actually disappointed when our hosts called us in to the screening, reluctant to leave the wonderful scene, but felt we owed it to them to watch their film.  And besides, it was a movie after all – isn’t that why we’re all here?  Okay, yay! It’s movie time… or not.

We grabbed the few remaining empty seats and found ourselves directly in front of previously mentioned Majestic Hotel Bar buddy Daniel Fanaberia of Cannes market film Behind Your Eyes.  We compared our respective Cannes observations until the movie rolled.  Oh boy…

I shan’t mention the name of the film (hell, I don’t even remember it) in respect for the kind people who treated us to such a nice party, and let me preface this by saying that I have sat through countless films I have not liked in the least (whose makers have NOT plied me with food and alcohol beforehand) just so as not to offend the filmmakers also in attendance.  I try to be supportive of other indie filmmakers, truly I do.  We’re all in this together after all.

However, this was positively unbearable.  Clearly shot with a reasonable budget, beautifully shot with nice production design and a few known actors (several whom I know personally, no less), it was simultaneously boring and offensive.  I was offended not by the topless mindless female characters, nor the other unlikeable sexist stereotypes that made up the cast, but rather, by the fact that they clearly had tons of money and could not be bothered to write or buy a decent script.  Was this somebody’s vanity project?  Egads!  I think it was supposed to be a drama of sorts, yet it was filled with all these cheesy action film one-liners that felt like somebody saw Die Hard and thought, “Oh, neat-o – I can write funny lines like that, too!” when s/he clearly could not.

After 2/3 of the audience had left within the first excruciating 10 minutes, we had no choice but to follow suit.  Nat felt horrible and apologized to the producer on our way out, “I’m so sorry, but we have to go.”  She did not lie.  Life is too short.  We DID have to go.  Besides, somebody should have told them – this is not a movie for audiences.  Learn your craft.  Films need to entertain people – not all people, that would be impossible, but SOME people at least.  This, I believe,  did not.

After the initial guilt trip subsided, the champagne in our system must have bubbled back up because we became suddenly giddy in our newfound freedom as we fled the International Pavilion and hopped on a beachside merry-go-round.  Ra, Nat and I posed on our bobbing horses as Agustin shot us with the flip camera.  Suddenly it felt like the world was our oyster and we laughed endlessly in love with all things Cannes.

We then opted to go back to “our table” at the Majestic Hotel bar. Nat was beside herself when Karl Lagerfeld passed us by (see the top of his head over A’s shoulder if you click photo below right) and Agustin was equally enthused when Gary Busey passed by (once again, I missed them both, enraptured in our own discussion accompanied by the loveliest white wine.)

Nat, Ra and I all failed to notice when Agustin got really quiet, however, as we became particularly engrossed in the topic of our upcoming collaborative project.  I might add that while my blogs inevitably reflect the fun, party atmosphere (and food), our ongoing discussions rarely departed completely from work for long – whether it was about marketing our already made films and/or strategies for our upcoming ones.  For example, Nat, J and I have been in discussion for months already about a particularly exciting project on which we plan to collaborate: with J in the director’s seat, Nat in the lead female role and I’ve already written the script.

And though we’ve e-mailed and talked on the phone about it the past few months, this was the first time we had a face to face in depth discussion about the world, the character, the way we’d bring it to life.  I felt like I was IN the story.  It was magical.  Anyway, as we sat there, all three of us captivated by the possibilities, we did not notice that somebody else found our own scene captivating.  Finally, Agustin unable to keep put any longer, interrupted.  “Guys, we’ve got to go.”

The bottle of wine had long been drained and we reluctantly acquiesced.  But as soon as we were out of earshot of the bar, Agustin lost his composure blurting out,  “I can’t believe you missed it!”

“What?”  we all asked, looking at him quizzically.

“Woody Allen stopped right in front of you all and gawked!”

I thought Nat was going to faint right then and there.  Some girls might be into Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp,   Fabio(?) – whatever.  But our group is definitely more impressed by a man like Woody.

Now I don’t think Nat really grabbed Agustin by the collar and shook him as I now comically envision it, but she did drop her usual charming,  gentle feminine demeanor to demand in no uncertain terms, “You tell us absolutely everything that happened – NOW!!!”

Apparently, while we were caught up in the reverie of our movie plans, Agustin felt a presence behind him.  He turned around to see amid a small entourage, Woody Allen himself.  He was escorted by a young blond, whom Agustin later determined must be Naomi Watts who stars in his latest film.

Woody walked by, stopped right in front of our table and blatantly stared at the three of us, lost in our own animated world.  The blond at his side apparently looked annoyed, tugged at his arm and they all walked off.  Agustin sat dumbfounded as we remained oblivious, chatting another 10 minutes until he could take it no more and had to share what he’d witnessed.

I’m not usually star-struck, but admittedly we all laughed and squealed like schoolgirls as we exited the Majestic, Agustin recounting the scenario.  Our “brush with greatness” must have left an impressive afterglow because we found ourselves accosted by the paparazzi just outside the hotel as we exited, stepping off a red carpet, the camera flashes blinding us as we pretentiously posed for them and raced off all aflutter.  It was a silly, yet thrilling moment.

Suddenly famished, we literally skipped down to La Pizza, arm in arm for the much anticipated “pizza of the gods” as I’d been informed by all in the know.  It most certainly is among the better pizzas I’ve consumed in my life and a must for those visiting Cannes.

After a fine dinner of pizza and red wine, we all parted ways, Nat and Ra back to their villa and Agustin and I back to ours, we all commented that it felt like we’d truly been through something major on this wonderful day.  “Great things are in store for us all,” I declared and was certain it was not merely the wine and excitement of the day talking.

Nothing all that big had really happened, and yet it felt like a day of everything.  Agustin and I had the most wonderful talk about the present, the future, our goals and dreams as we climbed up the hill to the Cannes Independent Film Fest Villa.  The movies and discussions of the night were long past and I was sad to have missed them despite our own fun adventures.  Still,  as we crept through the front door knowing our villa family slept soundly after equally inspiring days no doubt, it all felt really right.  We were all in this together.  And I could hardly wait to fall asleep so I could wake up and start another wonderful day in this magical world.