A Cannes-did Look Back
Ten years ago, I was headed to my tenth Cannes Film Festival with a seemingly never-ending supply of gusto and verve.
With the Cannes Film Festival kicking off today, I wanted to share an old piece I wrote for the Sunday Times (South Africa) ten years ago. It marked the tenth anniversary of my first Cannes, as a correspondent for Eyewitness News, and it presents a snapshot of who I was then—a young(er) reporter running on the fumes of her passion. At this point, I had already been in New York for five years.
When I think back on my whole Cannes adventure, it’s one of my proudest accomplishments. Not that I covered the festival, but that I got there at all.
I remember pitching it to my boss at Eyewitness News, where I’d joined as a reporter determined to focus on arts and entertainment; my idealistic self wanting arts stories to sit alongside sports and weather in the daily bulletin. Tsotsi had just won the Oscar for Best International Feature Film (then called Best Foreign Film), and I believed that going to Cannes would open doors to more stories about South African films gaining traction abroad.
She asked for a budget. It was too high.
So I started looking elsewhere for sponsorship. Around that time, the French Consulate in South Africa was actively building cultural ties between the two countries. I pitched the idea that my coverage of Cannes could feed into that exchange, and be useful for both sides. They agreed to cover my flights.
With that secured, I went back to my boss. She approved a modest accommodation budget, and I found an apartment on a hill that gave me a great workout after a day of eating pan au chocolat and sitting in darkened cinemas.
I went on to keep finding ways back. The following year, I was told there was no budget at all, so I looked for other avenues. I kept searching, and somehow, I kept being able to make my return, year after year. When I became a freelancer, I often was only able to cover the cost of going, and nothing more. But for me, at that time, that was all I needed.
I covered Cannes for 14 years in total, until the pandemic and pregnancy ended the streak.
I share these highlights—just a handful—from my time there, knowing that I probably would have written this now with a little less breathlessness and a little more discernment. But I share them to remember the wide-eyed girl who would go out all night, and then wake up to queue for the 8am screening (oh, to be 24 again and able to ask so much of your body and mind and they cooperate). I share this because while I remember these moments, I also remember what they taught me.
It isn’t the glamour that I’ve held onto, but the logistics of it all—the constant problem-solving, the uncertainty, the improvisation. The woman who kept figuring out how to get there is the same one who later came to New York on nothing more than belief and a dream.
One of the biggest lessons I learned at Cannes, with so many things going on and access and timing being so precarious, was to make my own Cannes. I found the stories that I could tell, the events that I could get into, the people that I could meet, and made something of it, whatever it turned out to be.
In New York, I used the same lesson. There is always something out of reach, always a door you don’t get into, always a story you miss. So you focus on what is available—the streets you can run, the people you can meet, the work you can do from where you stand.
That has turned out to matter more than any celebrity sighting.
It was the second day of the 60th edition of the Cannes Film Festival in 2007 and I found myself inside the grand Théâtre Lumière of the hallowed Palais des Festivals, heels in hand, hair dishevelled, unable to breathe.
This being my first time at the world’s most prestigious film festival — my first time as one of 4,000 journalists jostling for Julianne Moore’s attention — meant it was also my first time experiencing the tiered credential system that put me on the (almost) bottom rung, with limited access to the films and film stars I was to report on.
With five minutes to go until the doors closed, I, along with about 100 other people, had only just managed to squeeze into the opening film after an hour’s uncertain-we’d-get-in wait.
Flashes of photographs I’d seen over the years of the glamorous international film festival played in my mind as I was pushed up the stairs by other bodies rushing past me — learning, also for the first time, the difference in manners between nationalities.
“This is so glamorous,” I thought, as I wiped the sweat from my brow and elbowed my way through to find a seat right at the very back corner of the theatre.
I quickly caught on that “glamorous” is not quite the word to describe the event that takes place in the south of France every May. Oh sure, it’s glamorous for the designer-dressed and stylist-primped stars, and for those reading glossy magazines and tabloid websites at home. But for a reporter trying to file two stories twice a day for 12 days, it can be a harried and quite startling experience.
Over the years, I’ve missed out on seeing U2 perform on the steps of the Palais des Festivals; I didn’t catch a souvenir hat from Spielberg as he tossed dozens of them out into the crowd at the premiere of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull; and I have yet to blag my way into a Vanity Fair party.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in nine years of covering the Cannes Film Festival, it’s that the stuff you miss out on doesn’t mean that much in the face of all that you do get to experience.
Here, then, are 10 of my standout moments — both weird and full of wonder — that I’ll think back on fondly as I sip champagne on my yacht overlooking the Côte d’Azur at this year’s fest (just kidding — I’ll probably be standing in a line somewhere, inhaling coffee and a pain au chocolat in time to make the next screening).
10. The Time I Became Paparazzi Because of Brad and Angie
There’s nothing quite like the buzz of Brad Pitt Day in Cannes. Especially when it precedes or follows Angelina Jolie Day.
Hollywood’s hottest couple take the dial from “0 to 100 real quick” when they’re in town. I say “in town”, but the Jolie-Pitts always stay just outside Cannes, and pop in for a short while to promote their latest projects and do a spot of shopping. As they did one sunny afternoon in 2008.
I was walking back to the apartment where I was staying when I turned the corner and saw a huge crowd of people in the street where I was headed. Whispered hushes told me Brad and Angie, who was pregnant at the time, were inside the exclusive baby clothing store Bonpoint two doors down from my apartment.
“How silly of all these people, standing outside gawking,” I thought, looking at their faces eagerly pressed up against the window — in the same moment that I felt my own arm lift up, camera in hand.
As a journalist, I should be recording this, I reasoned, edging closer. You know, to report how very blonde little Shiloh’s locks were, and the way the fedora sat perfectly on Papa Pitt’s head.
When the family exited the store, the frenzy turned delirious, with cries of “Braaaad! Angelinaaaaa!” turning the usually quiet street into a scene from the pages of Us Weekly.
They got into a car and drove away. Just like that, they were gone, and I felt my cheeks flush from the excitement.
How very silly of these people, indeed.
9. The Time I Met Robert Pattinson Before He Was Edward Cullen
Before Lee Daniels directed Oprah in The Butler, and before he brought us Cookie Lyon in Empire, he put a makeup-less Mariah Carey on the big screen, and instructed Zac Efron to pee on Nicole Kidman in his films Precious and The Paperboy, both of which debuted at Cannes.
Before Ben Whishaw was Q in the Bond franchise, he was John Keats in the fest’s 2009 opener Bright Star.
And before Robert Pattinson became a vampire in love with Kristen Stewart, he was a little-known half-blood, in Cannes to preview footage of the first-ever Twilight movie.
As we hugged for a photo opp, during which he bent down and endearingly said, “I need to come to your height,” I heard a small group of girls, who had gathered at the entrance of the beach where we were standing, scream at the top of their lungs.
A small but telling indication of the level of fame he would achieve.
8. The Time I Chased Tarantino Down the Street
The Cannes Effect can be quite crazy when it first takes over.
I remember comedian and now The Daily Show with Trevor Noah writer Dave Kibuuka joining a bunch of photographers running after Pamela Anderson down the Croisette — the boardwalk-like strip of Cannes in front of the beaches — and telling me afterwards that he didn’t know why.
“What was I going to do once I’d caught up to her?” he laughed.
I laughed too, until the next day, when I found myself chasing Quentin Tarantino after spotting him at the Carlton Hotel and saying hello.
He said hi back and waved, and I figured if I could speak to him a little more, maybe I could try to arrange an interview. This was before I knew how the game operated — that you have to be nominated by the film company to do an interview.
With hopeful naïveté, I dashed after him as his black-and-white sneakers jumped into a car.
There was no way I was going to keep up, and I thought of Dave’s chase as I stopped in my tracks a block down the street.
What was I going to do if I caught up to him — shout through his window?
I could only laugh to myself a few days later, when I sat down in front of him for an interview organised by his film’s South African distributor back home — all with the click of a mouse.
7. The Time a Danish Director Silenced Us All
A journalistic faux pas at Cannes is nothing too special; it’s far more outrageous coming from a filmmaker or actor.
The president of the 2008 jury, Sean Penn, complaining about the strict new anti-smoking laws in France and then lighting up a cigarette and chain-smoking was nothing compared to Danish director Lars von Trier’s audacious actions.
One minute he was waxing lyrical about how great an actress his leading lady Kirsten Dunst was in his film Melancholia, the next he was admitting his sympathy for Adolf Hitler, to the visible horror of said leading lady.
It was a moment when even those journalists with a lot to say were stunned, as we all looked around at each other, wondering if we were truly hearing the words being said.
Cannes banned Von Trier after the incident, lifting his persona non grata status only upon his apology, and it’s gone down in the history of Cannes controversies, along with Heelgate last year and the incident the year before when a Ukrainian reporter crawled under America Ferrera’s dress on the red carpet.
6. The Time Leonardo DiCaprio Made My Knees Weak
Before going to Cannes, I considered myself fairly adept at press conferences.
Not one to shy away from sticking my hand up, I’d asked Oprah the first question at a press conference about the alleged sex abuse scandal at her girls’ school and, in Germany for the World Cup, I had no problem asking our then-president Thabo Mbeki about South Africa’s preparedness in front of the world’s TV audience.
But put Leonardo DiCaprio and a microphone in front of me and my thoughts aren’t quite as clear.
I knew I wanted to ask something about climate change when I took the mic, as he was in Cannes with the documentary An Inconvenient Truth.
I felt my mouth go dry and my knees knock the seat in front of me as I stood up to ask my question.
I heard myself try to break the ice a little with a joke about how we South Africans appreciated his accent in Blood Diamond, which seemed to work because his resultant smile gave me the chance to regain my composure.
I’ve interviewed the Oscar-winning actor a few times since, and while I no longer get weak at the knees, I treasure the memory of what it was like in the days before I became a certified Professional Name-Dropper.
5. The Time Mike Myers Became Forever My Hero
He may not have made a non-animated movie in forever, but whenever Mike Myers decides to release Austin Powers 4, I’ll be his biggest supporter.
Covering the glitzy amfAR fundraiser, hosted by Sharon Stone, is a hard task when you’re not one of the major TV shows like E! or Entertainment Tonight.
At one of the events, I was put right at the bottom of the red carpet, where I could barely catch any of the celebrities walking past because my arm was too short to reach over the barricade.
Seeing me struggle, Myers — who was there for Inglourious Basterds — took my microphone out of my hand and began talking directly into it, answering questions, mine and those of other journalists around us, giving me some great material.
Ms Stone was walking behind him and, to continue the goodness, Myers passed the mic to a French journalist [Ed note: That was Didier Allouch, and I ended up befriending him through Asian A.V. Club] , who placed it in front of her, making not just my story but my night.
4. The Time Schwarzenegger Almost Ran Me Over
Stars will do a lot in the name of promotion.
Sacha Baron Cohen has walked down the Croisette in his barely-there Borat costume, and Jim Carrey has brought snow to the south of France.
But last year, some of the world’s biggest action movie stars drove tanks down the street for The Expendables 3.
The combination of all that star power was blinding, and when I stepped in to get a closer look, I almost had my toe run over by the tank Arnold Schwarzenegger — part of the line-up — was driving.
3. The Time Salma Hayek Blew Me Away
I have not seen a woman win the coveted Palme d’Or in the time I’ve attended the fest — except for when Blue Is the Warmest Colour’s two lead actresses shared the prize with the film’s director. (New Zealand director Jane Campion won it in 1993.)
Stunts in Cannes are fun, but the jaw-dropping moment of watching Salma Hayek talk at a panel on women in the movie business made just as much of an impact on me.
Using one of the best quotes in movie history, she said:
“Show them the money!”
Over and over, she used facts and figures to prove the monetary value — and plain common sense — in championing female-driven projects.
2. The Time a Foreign Film Made Me a New Foreign Friend
Tickets to red-carpet premieres are not easy to come by, and every day of the fest, people stand at the doors of the Palais with signs begging for tickets to the night’s big screening.
I’m usually scrounging myself, but one year I had been given two tickets to the closing-night ceremony.
Everyone I knew had already left town, so I went to the front of the Palais and asked a woman who looked like she was waiting for a ticket if she wanted to come with me.
She nodded.
Turned out she didn’t speak English and I could only speak un petit peu French, so we hand-signalled our way through taking pictures of each other on the red carpet and watching Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky.
Afterwards, we shared a Nutella crêpe before she hugged me goodbye, saying merci beaucoup for what felt like the 50th time.
I’ve made many friends from all over the world since first setting foot in Cannes (indeed, my best friend is someone I met the night we both snuck into an Ivana Trump party), but the one I made that night — even though I don’t see her anymore, because she didn’t have Facebook and I lost the piece of paper with her email address on it — was a pure highlight.
To riff off Humphrey Bogart: “We’ll always have Cannes.”
1. The Time That Life, Above All Got a Two-Thumbs-Up
For a film lover in Cannes, very little tops the feeling of seeing a truly great movie — and the experience that’s left when the lights go up and you feel like something inside has shifted.
Little tops the moment for me, then, when the credits began rolling after South African-born director Oliver Schmitz’s moving drama Life, Above All debuted in 2010, and the audience rose to its feet, clapping solidly for 10 minutes, accompanied by passionate hurrahs.
Roger Ebert had sat near me during the screening and, when I asked the revered critic — who died three years later after battling thyroid cancer — what he thought of the film, he gave me the two-thumbs-up he was known for.
It was a moment that made me feel as proud a South African as if I had made the film myself.
Nadia! So nice to hear from you!
As a South African I've read your pieces for years and it was lovely to see your name pop up in my email.