Overrated: The Cannes Film Festival

If you have any dealings with the world of film, certain key dates hove into view each year with the yawning dread of a dental check-up or a family Christmas. Chief among them, of course, is the Oscars, that annual orgy of odious self-congratulation and lurid fashion disasters. No less awful, though, is the Cannes Film Festival, which combines the above with an extra patina of cinematic pretension and Gallic snobbery. Ever seen a tank of piranhas descend on a shank of meat, devouring it in seconds? Exchange the former for a thousand rapacious journos and the latter for some nubile starlet, and you have the entire overblown event in a nutshell.

 

Put simply, I detest Cannes. I hate the glitzy red-carpet premieres, the massed ranks of photographers, the absurd, multilingual press conferences with their endless questions and sniggeringly dismissive responses. I loathe the hordes of nobodies, wannabes and shameless rubberneckers who turn the Croisette into a living, broiling hell. Most of all I hate the way the entire movie business decamps for 10 days each May to a few acres of overpriced real estate on the Cote d’Azur, just so it can do what it spends the rest of the year doing anyway. Time was when Cannes had a function – to launch new talent, showcase great cinema and acclaim tomorrow’s classics. Now it’s just one giant press junket – a cynical marketing opportunity for jaded movie stars, studio flunkies and the faceless money men who pull their strings.

 

Cannes Special 2008

For irrefutable proof, you only have to look at the way Steven Spielberg and George Lucas used the occasion to launch the final Indiana Jones adventure in 2008. With the world’s media in humble obeisance, they were assured of international coverage on an unprecedented scale. What, though, does this have to do with Cannes itself? Not a lot, though the festival could hardly refuse such a high-profile addition to its line-up. Like The Da Vinci Code before it, however, such a craven submission to Hollywood muscle had its downside, as anyone who went to see Indy IV found out.

 

Then there’s the Palme d’Or, that ridiculously overhyped bauble whose integrity and prestige seems to decline with each successive year. It’s too early to tell who will walk way with this year’s honour. But it'll be a beneficiary of Cannes' addiction to the auteur theory – an endemic failing that requires it to go potty for all manner of below-par dreck simply because it has a name helmer attached.

 

Pixar's Up may be the highlight of this year's Cannes - but the public's interest can only continue to go down if Cannes doesn't drop its own self-importance and self-satisfaction. It needs to be more than just an industry holiday.

 

 

 

Cannes Special