Try as the naysayers might to dismiss it, no sensible director will want his masterwork premiered anywhere other than Cannes, writes DONALD CLARKE. But why?
WHY DO WE, the ladies and gentlemen of the press, still pay such great attention to the Cannes film festival? It’s a reasonable question. From the 1950s through to the early 1980s an interest in “serious” cinema, still nominally the event’s main concern, was essential for any culturally literate human being. The latest film by Ingmar Bergman or Federico Fellini was as much of an event as was the most recent novel by Philip Roth or Thomas Pynchon. In recent decades, however, watching highbrow films has become a more rarefied pastime.
Recent winners of the Palme d'Or, Cannes's top prize, such as The Class, The White Ribbonand 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Dayshave demonstrated the continuing vibrancy of world cinema. But none has registered anywhere nearly as strongly with the public as have voguish award-winning novels such as Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections, Ian McEwan's Atonementor (this week's big thing) Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. And the novel is supposed to be a dying form.
The first, unhelpful answer – one that will appeal to quantum physicists – is that we pay so much attention because we pay so much attention. That is to say the huge media presence itself makes Cannes an event of intergalactic importance. If 3,000 journalists gathered around, say, a dog in a hat, then you could be fairly certain every editor on the planet would demand a piece on the mutt by teatime.
None of which is to suggest that the importance of Cannes is overblown. No other film festival matters so much. Indeed, you might argue that no other arts festival has quite such significance. (Edinburgh? Not really. The Venice Biennale? Hardly. Bayreuth? Get out of here.) Over the past 50 years – since the days when Brigitte Bardot and other stars brought glamour to the Croisette – the organisers have developed a supremely effective blend of art and commerce. The competition for the Palme d’Or remains the main event. But while journalists puzzle over the latest Serbian allegory or Korean gore-fest, producers, distributors and publicists prowl the Film Market in search of the next break-out hit or straight-to-video sensation.
This year about 60 films will compete in the key official or semi-official races – the main competition, Un Certain Regard, Directors’ Fortnight – but close to 1,000 pictures will be on display in the market. It is not unusual to meet visiting professionals who, after decades of attendance, have never seen a single film in the competition.
The Cannes organisers have also made it their business to screen a fair share of blockbusters out of competition. The hopeless The Da Vinci Codepremiered there in 2006. Ridley Scott's Robin Hoodwas unveiled in 2010. This year Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides– nobody's idea of a contemporary The Seventh Seal– will set sail from the Croisette.
Malcontents might complain that such inclusions betray cynicism, but the presence of superstars on the red carpet helps give the impression that Cannes celebrates all corners of the cinematic mansion.
The continuing dominance of Cannes has perhaps elbowed other prestige events to the sidelines. It is worth remembering that the event was originally conceived in 1939 as a response to Mussolini’s malign dominance over the Venice Film Festival.
Whereas film jamborees such as Karlovy Vary, in the Czech Republic, or San Sebastián, in Spain, once attracted headlines, a tiny premiere league, none of whose combatants can hope to compete with Cannes, now dominates the festival scene. Venice and Berlin (juggle according to your preference) tail some way behind the French event. The Sundance Festival still matters to fans of independent cinema. Then there’s the peculiar case of Toronto. Film professionals will tell you that the beautifully run, impressively civilised Canadian event is second only to Cannes (and not that far behind) in its importance to the industry. But outside its home country Toronto makes little impact on cinema-goers.
Happily for Cannes, inertia has set in. No sensible director will want his masterwork to premiere anywhere other than the Côte d'Azur. Yes, Karlovy Vary, a quaint ski resort, may be a lovely place to watch a film, but you won't see the man from the Guardianpunching the woman from the New York Timesfor the right to the best seats at a midday screening. (Some Cannes regulars seem to regard the not infrequent outbursts of blood-drenched chaos as part of the festival's charm.) Every now and then journalists, confronted with an underwhelming programme, will announce that the event is sliding towards irrelevance. In 2010, making my first trip to Cannes, I was disappointed to find every second hack bemoaning the worst line-up since Robespierre headed the festival jury.
Sober Cannes-watchers suspected that the event would soon bounce back. So it has proved. The 2011 programme features a saliva-generating array of work from the best directors working today.
After tantalising fans for years Terrence Malick, director of Days of Heavenand Badlands, finally finds his epic The Tree of Lifein competition for the Palme d'Or. Starring Sean Penn and Brad Pitt in a tale that spans decades – millennia according to reports that suggest the presence of dinosaurs – the film will bring star power to the main competition. Lars von Trier, winner of the big prize in 2001 for the bizarre Dancer in the Dark, is back in the race with Melancholia, some class of science-fiction madness starring Kirsten Dunst. The beloved Finnish eccentric Aki Kaurismäki returns with the baldly titled Le Havre(apparently it involves ferries). The Dardennes brothers, the Belgian realists and twice winners of the Palme d'Or, return with another low-key drama entitled The Kid with the Bike.
Among other respected auteurs entering films in the main competition are Nanni Moretti, Pedro Almodóvar and the rising Turkish minimalist Nuri Bilge Ceylan.
Lynne Ramsay, the Scottish visionary, presents her version of Lionel Shriver's controversial novel, We Need to Talk about Kevin. Offering a record four films by female directors (compared with none last year), the official programme also contains work by Naomi Kawase, a Japanese wizard; Maïwenn Le Besco, a prolific French actor and rising director; and the largely unknown Australian Julia Leigh.
Two Irish productions have also made it into prestigious races. Paolo Sorrentino, director of the magnificent Il Divo, is up for the Palme d'Or with This Must Be the Place. It stars Sean Penn as a rock star who, bored with retirement in Dublin, elects to hunt down a Nazi war criminal. The film was supported by the Irish Film Board and co-produced by Element Pictures, a Dublin-based film company.
Rebecca Daly has found a place in Directors' Fortnight, the prestigious side-bar event, with her debut feature The Other Side of Sleep. Daly, whose offbeat thriller details the discontent of a habitual sleepwalker, is the first Irish woman to compete for the Camera d'Or, awarded to the director of the best debut feature.
“For me personally it’s really a dream come true to have my first feature selected for Cannes,” Daly said. Cannes clearly matters to her. The Cassandras still have a wait before the rest of us stop caring. Let the lovely chaos begin.
Donald Clarke will be reporting from Cannes in next week’s LifeCulture and on irishtimes.com
Big pictures: This year's festival line-up
The movie grapevine is alive with chatter about The Tree of Life,the latest, much-delayed film from Terrence Malick. There are, however, other potentially pungent delights lurking about the Cannes programme.
Partly filmed in Ireland, Paolo Sorrentino's This Must Be the Placesounds unmissable. Sean Penn – looking, in the stills, eerily like Robert Smith – stars as a rock star suffering a midlife crisis in Dublin.
Fans of viscera will rejoice at the news that Takashi Miike, the prolific Japanese maestro, has made it into the official programme with a film entitled Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai. Miike's film is the first 3D feature to compete for the Palme d'Or.
The Scottish director Lynne Ramsay, hailed for Ratcatcherand Morvern Callar, makes a belated return to the megaphone with an adaptation of Lionel Shriver's controversial novel We Need to Talk about Kevin.
Then there's the perennial weirdo in the corner. Will Lars von Trier's Melancholia– a drama about the end of the world, no less – be delightfully or depressingly deranged? It's sure to be one or the other.
Gus van Sant, master of stasis, appears in the Un Certain Regardsection, the official alternative to the main competition, with a romantic picture entitled Restless. And Woody Allen is on hand to kick-start the festivities. It was always likely that Midnight in Pariswould open the nation's biggest art jamboree. Will the first lady, Carla Bruni, who has a small part in the piece, turn up to wave at the assembled masses?
