We Miss You, Cannes: 23 Filmmakers Relive Indelible Moments

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/13/movies/cannes-filmmaker-memories.html

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There is nothing in the movie world that equals the glamour, artistic grandeur and occasional absurdity of the Cannes Film Festival, where stars and directors gather every May to be seen, celebrated and judged by the press and their peers. Over a frenzied week and half, masterpieces are unveiled and reputations are made. There are rapturous ovations and lusty boos. This year, because of the coronavirus pandemic, none of that is happening, but we just can’t quit it. So we spoke to filmmakers around the world about their memories of Cannes and their thoughts about the future of cinema. Here are edited excerpts:

His films at Cannes have included “Babel” in 2006.

I went for the first time to the Cannes Film Festival to present “Amores Perros” (2000). Actually, it was the first time ever I attended a film festival in my life. Our budget was so scarce that we decided to stay at a town 25 minutes outside Cannes since the rooms were much less expensive.

One day, I was invited to a photo call with all the other directors just before a 7 p.m. screening of the new Wong Kar-wai film “In the Mood for Love.” Maria, my wife, and I thought that taking a taxi at 6:15 would be safe enough to get us to there just in time. We had no idea that taxis were overbooked, and even though we were dressed in a tuxedo and a long dress with high heels, we had no other choice than to run. It was [95 degrees] outside, and cars [were] stopped in traffic. As we ran, my wife took off her shoes. I took off my jacket, then my bow tie, then one, two, three buttons.

We arrived at 7:01 p.m. I put my jacket on. I felt the sweat running through my whole body. Smile! Flash! Click! Flash! Cheeeese! For a filmmaker, the experience of entering that legendary [Palais Des Festivals] with 2,000 seats is similar to that of a Catholic boy going into the Vatican. [From] all the way in the back, we watched “In the Mood for Love” on a screen 40 times bigger than us. Maria and I walked in complete silence for almost 10 minutes [afterward]. We suddenly stopped by the sea. Maria hugged me and started crying inconsolably on my shoulder. And I did the same on hers. “In the Mood for Love” had left us speechless and deeply moved. It was that moment that reminded me why, even when it’s so stupidly difficult sometimes, I wanted to become a filmmaker.

Her “Happy as Lazzaro” (2018) and “The Wonders” (2014) have played Cannes.

Cannes changed my life. It showed me films that expanded my intellectual freedom, and welcomed me as a director. As I’m writing these thoughts, I hear the voice of my neighbor Carlo outside the window — and he too is connected to Cannes.

I never used to speak with Carlo Tarmati, who worked as a truck driver, because he was my father’s great enemy. Our house and Carlo’s are perched on adjoining hills. When my father and Carlo yelled curses and accusations at each other, their shouts would echo through the woods.

When I was casting “The Wonders,” Carlo showed up for an audition. I was embarrassed, because he was an enemy. But he was a born actor. As we worked together, we got to know each other better. And then our film was picked for Cannes, and I panicked. I wanted to bring Carlo, but I also wanted to bring my family. What if they started fighting in the middle of the festival?

I remember the [2014] red carpet for “The Wonders,” with my sister Alba holding my hand, the four little children from the movie, my parents and my daughter, the splendid Monica Bellucci and, incredibly, Carlo. I kept a nervous eye on my father. And then during the screening, Carlo and my father recognized themselves in the story. They laughed and cried together. They were afraid together. They loved the work we had all done together. At the party after the screening they teased each other. In a few days they were best buddies, inseparable.

The angry shouts no longer echo in the woods. They’ve been replaced by friendly greetings. In this period of quarantine, isolated in the countryside, Carlo Tarmati is the only person my parents see. Together they do the farm work that can’t be managed alone. They keep each other company and call each other every night before bed.

And this is one of the many ways that Cannes has changed my life.

“Good Time,” which he directed with his brother, Josh, played in competition in 2017.

It was 2008, and I had a short film playing at the Directors Fortnight in Cannes. I was in a rush and my friend offered me the back of his scooter, but I didn’t have a helmet and I would be the third person riding it, both illegal in Cannes. I figured it was a short ride and nothing would happen. Of course we were immediately pulled over by a police officer. They told me to pay the fine at the central police station.

At the station, the chief of police, Jean-Marie Beulaygue, wanted to see me. It was all starting to feel like “Alice’s Restaurant.” When I got to the break room, Jean-Marie appeared and wanted to share a coffee together. I was shocked and asked him why. “Because you are a filmmaker!” he said with excitement. It turns out he went to all of the Fortnight conferences and tried to see as many movies as possible. Of course in Cannes the chief of police is a film buff, I thought. After saying goodbye, Jean-Marie made me promise to say hello if I was ever in town again. I laughed and agreed, almost 100 percent sure I would never be back.

To my surprise, my brother and I found ourselves back in Cannes the next year. It was much crazier, and there wasn’t much time to do anything. As we were running from one meeting to another I got a frantic call from our French producer. “Two police just came by the house looking for you.” I told [him] to calm down and then made my way to the police station. Jean-Marie came out with a big smile on his face, “Welcome back!”

Fast forward to 2017. Josh and I were in Cannes again, this time in the main competition. I didn’t want to set off any police searches, so I went straight to the station to say hi to my friend. To my surprise, no one there knew who I was talking about. I showed them a photo, told them his name … nothing. I started doubting my memory of it all as I walked back to the Croisette. When I hit my lowest point, I heard someone yell from the Fortnight headquarters. It was Jean-Marie! He had retired from the force many years ago and was now working at the festival! He dragged me inside the building with a big smile, “See! We do know each other!” It turned out he had been telling the same story to the workers there, and no one believed him. This is the photo we took together in 2008.

To our father (who was born in Italy and raised in France), the festival represented a holy place. Ever since we were kids, we’ve had to deal with our screaming father: “The film played at the Cannes Film Festival! It’s a classic!” There was no debating it, the regality of Cannes was drilled into our minds. Naturally, he made sure he’d be with us in the Riviera.

In 2008, he was at every party and went with us to as many movies as our tickets allowed. That next year, in 2009, he couldn’t attend. It was a major loss for him, and when we returned to the festival eight years later, this time in the main competition, one thing was certain: He was not going to miss it. He didn’t want to bother us with any of his travel or lodging, he just kept telling us: “I’ll be there, don’t worry about me.”

Post-Isis, security was incredibly tight. The day before our premiere, festival officials reminded us of the red carpet rules and restrictions. They told us police kept the carpet tighter than most political gatherings. So you can imagine our surprise when we saw a picture from the red carpet the following day. There we were, Benny, myself, [the stars Buddy Duress, Robert Pattinson and Taliah Webster] at the top of the red stairs. Behind us next to each theater entrance door stood a guard or policeman. And then, off to the right, there he was … our father. Somehow he managed to sneak his way past police, festival officials and festival directors. He surreptitiously found a place at the top of the stairs where he could quietly film.

He brought “Moonrise Kingdom” to Cannes in 2012.

Do you have a specific memory or anecdote about Cannes?

I’ve only been once [for “Moonrise Kingdom”]. Thierry Frémaux [the festival director] really knows how to throw a film festival. There were good movies of every kind from all over the planet, and what could be better than watching a perfectly restored 251 minutes “Once Upon a Time in America” on the shores of the Mediterranean?

What are you working on? What are you watching? Reading?

I have a 4-year-old daughter so, like so many others in our situation, I am now a part-time amateur schoolteacher. Much of what I am reading has to do with ancient Egypt, dinosaurs, insects and the Amazon rainforest. But also: Patricia Highsmith, James Baldwin, Elmore Leonard and a book about plagues. We watch a movie every night. Some of our favorite recent evenings: “Alice Adams,” “Beat the Devil,” “Nothing Sacred,” “Do the Right Thing,” “The Long Voyage Home,” “A Story From Chikamatsu,” “La Grande Bouffe,” “The Passionate Friends,” “Station Six-Sahara,” “What Price Hollywood,” “Winter Kills.”

A Cannes favorite who has had five films in the main competition, Eastwood received a lifetime achievement Palme d’Or in 2009.

I’ve been there quite a few times. A few years ago they had a 25th anniversary “Unforgiven” screening, that was the last time I was there. It was nice to have a new audience looking at an old film.

I hadn’t seen the film for years, so I was interested in seeing it myself. It holds up. Sometimes you get down the line with as long as I’ve been doing it and you kind of wonder what the hell is everything. But a lot of things come back to you when you see that.

It was very interesting and overwhelming the first time you go [with “Pale Rider” in 1985] because there’s so much running around and people, and everything has to be done immediately. When you go later on, it’s kind of easy, because you kind of say, OK, I’m just not going to extend myself too much because, eventually, you’re going to have to answer a lot of questions.

He’s been a regular at Cannes, with “A Touch of Sin” (2013), “Ash Is Purest White” (2018) and several other films playing there.

I received a festival luncheon invitation in 2013. My English was not good, I was quite worn out. Out of courtesy, I was going to show up, thinking that I might leave shortly afterward.

When I arrived, I saw Thierry Frémaux with Ang Lee and a man in a wheelchair. I went to say hello, then [went outside] to smoke. Ang Lee’s assistant came to look for me. Ang Lee showed me to the man in the wheelchair and said, “Jia, Mr. Bertolucci wants to talk to you.”

“No kidding!” I said out loud, which astonished me, eyes wide opened, “This is Old B!”

It wasn’t meant to be disrespectful. Bernardo Bertolucci had filmed “The Last Emperor” in China in 1987, Chinese filmmakers would address him as “Old B” in a Chinese way, meaning that he’s one of our own.

Bertolucci, holding my hand, started to talk. Ang Lee translated, “How could I watch ‘Useless’? It’s the only film that I haven’t seen among your works.” I was overwhelmed. As a senior, Bertolucci was generous enough to speak highly of a junior. I was being noticed by him, which was the most inspiring thing of all.

In 2008, at the press conference for “24 City,” Abbas Kiarostami stood at the door. I walked over and he gave me a big hug. We didn’t say anything, he left in a hurry, but the warmth of the hug remained in me. In 2015, at the photo call for “Mountains May Depart,” Agnès Varda suddenly appeared. She was passing by, but she walked straight forward regardless of the flashes and cameras, one hand holding me and the other hand holding Zhao Tao [the actress and the director’s wife]. I later saw the photos of that day, Agnès had kept her eyes on us, full of affection like a grandmother. Bernardo Bertolucci, Abbas Kiarostami and Agnès Varda have sadly passed away, but at Cannes, they left their focus and warmth to the younger generation, which empowered us to stay alive and keep making films. — Translated by Casper Liang

The documentary maker’s films at Cannes include “Fahrenheit 9/11,” which won the Palme d’Or in 2004. He recorded a video about the moment the prize was awarded:

The Brazilian filmmaker covered the festival for many years as a critic, and later his features “Bacurau” (2019) and “Aquarius” (2016) played in competition.

I remember …

— The sinister signature sound of seats being abandoned at the Debussy or the Lumiere theaters, sometimes by people who want everybody to know they are leaving that film after 20 minutes.

— The special screening of “The Leopard” in 2010. My badge allowed me to sit just before the seats assigned to [the film’s stars] Alain Delon and Claudia Cardinale. That was an extreme case of Cannes folding time and space. They watched the whole film just behind me and seemed to be moved by it, and by that screening.

— The reactions and standing ovations to both “Aquarius” and “Bacurau,” when the lights go up and Thierry comes in with the camera crew, just an insane and unique Cannes moment quite unlike anything anywhere. You want it to end and you want it to go on, at the same time.

His “Bad Lieutenant” (1992), “Body Snatchers” (1993) and “The Blackout” (1997) have played at the festival.

The night of the premiere [of “Body Snatchers"] I was all set and in perfect time for the five-minute walk from the hotel to the Palais, when I went to put the tie on. Only there was no tie. I freaked. My wife at the time was skeptical about any tie, but the PR people were begging me to just button my shirt: “You are the director, you don’t need a tie.” But as all good addicts, I had a brilliant idea. I called room service and told [the waiter] I needed his clip-on bow tie and would give him 50 American dollars for it. He refused, but [after] another 50 in French money, I got the use of the tie till midnight. We made it to the red carpet exactly five minutes late, which to the people in charge was the equivalent of strangling de Gaulle in mid-salute.

Now once upon another time we were back with “The Blackout.” It wasn’t in competition, but because it had Dennis Hopper and Béatrice Dalle and Claudia Schiffer were also in it, we were going to have a special out-of-competition screening. I was there in plenty of time, sharp and tieless and awaiting our actors. I hear our PR person [with two cellphones] repeating, “OK, Béatrice is still in the bathroom, OK, she is refusing to come out,” then from the other phone, “Claudia has finally put her shoes on, she just took them off.” Forty-five minutes later, Béatrice and Claudia arrived. No one ever said a word to Béatrice or Claudia, strutting down that carpet with all the lights in the world flashing.

He has had four films in the main competition, including “The Yards” (2000).

My relationship with that festival is strange. The people that run the festival have been great to me, the whole selection committee has been beautiful to me and all that. But the reaction to the films is so weird because they play there, they’re hated, usually, they get a lot of boos. I say, “Why did I come here? This is so stupid.” I’m the Susan Lucci of the Cannes Film Festival, because I think I have the record for the most movies that have played in competition that have not gotten any prizes. Let me say I do not go there — I promise you this is the case — I do not go there to win a prize. I did when I made my first movie that went to Cannes.

But I learned my lesson very quickly. The point of this is not that you should feel sorry for me, quite the opposite. What I’m saying is that you feel the need to keep going back because you have to. It doesn’t matter what the reaction is to the movie. You have to do it. They care enough to boo. I know that sounds counterintuitive. You don’t want people to boo. But that passion, it shows you that actually the booing is in some way part of the love of the medium. I know this makes no sense.

She has acted in many Cannes movies, directed two short films at the festival, and served on the Critics’ Week jury.

My first time there was with “Trees Lounge” (1996), directed by Steve Buscemi. I remember flying over, I think that was with [the producers] Chris and Roberta Hanley, who are characters. And my luggage was lost, which is one of the telltale Cannes stories. Everybody’s luggage always gets lost. And I remember having to borrow Roberta’s stuff and going out with them to the Hotel du Cap, where they were staying, but I didn’t even know what that really meant. It was where all the fabulous people stayed, but I didn’t even know who was fabulous at that point. I do remember doing a photo shoot in the pet cemetery, and Roberta and I crawling around and just being like, where are we?

Their films at Cannes included“Rosetta” (1999) and “Two Days, One Night” (2014).

This May will be missing something for everyone who loves film. For us it’s a special loss, because Cannes is our second home, our adopted homeland, one that has welcomed our films and brought attention to them. We hope to be back next year, with Spike Lee as president of the jury [as was intended this year]. While we wait for May 2021, we feel we should use this pause in our activities to reflect on our work, on cinema, on its function in society.

Some say that the future of film lies in the private space of the streaming platforms. The proof of this is supposedly the growing use of those platforms in quarantine. But doesn’t this growth only prove that streaming suits the needs of a society in lockdown, from which real social life has vanished? Do we really want to live in such a paranoid world? Aren’t we social beings who long to live with one another in public space, notably in movie theaters where we watch films together on a screen that is bigger than we are, then gather in cafes and restaurants to talk about what we’ve seen? Shouldn’t this wake us up to demand of our leaders that they produce and extend the basic rights to health, education and culture? We are perhaps at the dawn of a new kind of solidarity. It’s up to us to want it.

His Cannes films have included “Personal Shopper” (2016) and “Clouds of Sils Maria” (2014).

Do you have a specific memory or anecdote about Cannes?

I was there for the first time in 1977, with my friend the late filmmaker Laurent Perrin. We were staying at his mother’s villa a little over 20 miles from Cannes. We usually hitchhiked to the festival in the morning, and back late at night. I remember seeing Fassbinder (I was a big fan but never dared approach him) in full leather gear holding court at a the cafe Le Petit Carlton.

What are you working on? What are you watching? Reading?

I’m in the countryside in the family house that inspired “Summer Hours” (don’t fantasize about it, it’s really nice but the house in the movie is something else). So I’m confined here with, among others, my 10-year-old daughter, Viki (when she’s not with her mother, filmmaker Mia Hansen-Love). Therefore I’m a part-time schoolteacher, at least until mid-May, when schools may, just may, reopen.

These days I’m writing for A24 a serial based on my 1996 feature “Irma Vep.” It keeps me busy and I find it very exciting, even stimulating as it has a zany pulp element and also deals with the state of cinema today.

His Cannes films include “Sorry Angel” (2018).

My birthday is in April. At that time, Paris is usually whispering with rumors about films possibly selected at the Cannes Film Festival. For me, spring has always been linked to eluding time and flourishing cinema. What I lose in life, I gain in movie theaters. As a teenager, I dreamed from Bretagne of these films which seemed to have the most beautiful life in the South of France. Then when I became a filmmaker, I lived the wonderful and pitiful adventure of Cannes selections.

This year, from my Parisian balcony, if a movie title or two manage to send a thread to my ears, the faint sound has the resonance of an epitaph. I don’t want to say that without Cannes they became dead movies, but they will miss something. They are deprived of a birth with fairies and witches leaning on their cradles. They are deprived of a possible metamorphosis. All films don’t want a fairy tale destiny, but spectators need these legends to continue, and we need to believe that cinema saves us from our lost life. A year without Cannes is a sterile year. No need to deny it. It is a hole, a void, an inconsolable absence.

Her film “Leave No Trace” was part of the Directors Fortnight program in 2018.

On my itinerary for day three at Cannes, it said “sound check” — an important procedure for any film screening where people have come great distances to attend. Sound checks are usually pro forma, focused on making sure nothing is wrong. This was the opposite — how close to perfect can we get? Four technicians greeted me in the theater. They made their first guess at where we should park the volume: Dolby 6.8. They played a loud scene and a quiet scene, both sounding excellent at this level, and I gave the thumbs up. They responded that we should now listen at 6.7 followed by 6.9 and 7.0. By now I’m getting anxious that they’re spending a lot of time setting the volume on this one film, and I’m assuming impatience and the need to wrap it up. Instead, I see four of the dedicated Cannes tech team wanting it to be the best it can be. I relaxed into the comfortable theater chair in the row they suggested and surrendered to the reality of where I was.

His many Cannes appearances begin with “Distance” (2001) and include “Shoplifters” (2018).

I will always remember walking the red carpet the first time. It was 2001, and I was 38. My memory of that moment had nothing to do with pride or self-esteem or even a sense of accomplishment.

If anything, I was awed.

Because I experienced firsthand the vast reach of cinema and the abundance of its history. And then, once I accepted my own minuscule presence and my immaturity as a director, I experienced joy. The awareness that although I was but a single drop of water, I was flowing with the bountiful river of cinema. The realization that I was profoundly connected to the world, belying the loneliness I often experience making a film.

That was the greatest reward of my Cannes Film Festival experience that year.

His films, including “Manuscripts Don’t Burn” (2013) and “A Man of Integrity” (2017), have appeared in the Un Certain Regard section of Cannes.

On the day before [“Manuscripts Don’t Burn”] was shown, I was in Cannes by the seaside, hurrying to the theater when someone called my name. I stopped. A man came forward and introduced himself: the producer Kaveh Farnam. I recognized his name, but we had never actually met. The next day, during the screening, he was in the audience. When the film ended, he found me, embraced me and asked me to get in touch with him whenever I started work on my next film.

I contacted him two years later, when I decided to begin working on “A Man of Integrity.” We ended up co-producing the film. Since that day, Kaveh Farnam and I have been close friends and colleagues. In 2017, at the 70th Cannes Film Festival, we won the Certain Regard Award for “A Man of Integrity.” In 2020, at the 70th Berlinale Festival, we received the Golden Bear [the top prize] for “There Is No Evil.”

In addition, we have co-produced eight documentaries and three feature films, all by young, talented and independent Iranian directors. This fruitful collaboration was the result of that chance meeting at Cannes.

He has had two movies presented at the festival, including an Amy Winehouse documentary in 2015.

If you’re lucky, you can have a golden moment. For me, it was “Amy.” [The Cannes screening] was the beginning of this amazing journey we went on with that film. To have the crowd, the emotion that was in the room. It was a late screening, it probably finished at 3 a.m. or something, to walk out into the darkness and wander off down the street kind of floating and then see the reviews are really positive. You think, oh, maybe we’ve got something here, but you don’t know.

For me, it’s much more exciting, that stage, than the end of the stage, which is what award season becomes. That kind of becomes a chore. This is about the movie. This is about an audience queuing up around the block and begging for tickets to get in. You’re dealing with a country that truly loves cinema and culture and treats it as high art. And so why wouldn’t you, if you love movies, want to experience it and share in it and, if you’re lucky enough, have your own work out there?

He has had six movies play in the main competition, including “A Christmas Tale” in 2008.

It’s always so difficult for me to speak about Cannes, even if I’ve been there so many times. We know that there is this big revolution in cinema in the way that films are seen by audiences. We know the position of Thierry Frémaux, who refused the films produced by Netflix while Venice was accepting the wonderful “Roma.” So, we know that we were right in the middle of a crisis in the cinema world, and this virus will force us to sort out all these issues.

The crisis will force us to reinvent new forms, new associations, new shapes. We can’t go on thinking, OK, we can keep on like this for one more year, one more year. No, it’s absurd. Not to have “Roma” in Cannes was absurd because it was the best film of the year. It belonged to Cannes, you know?

His second feature, “The Lighthouse” (2019), played in Directors Fortnight.

The whole experience for me was just wild because of the energy and the passion. Obviously I didn’t know what to expect from Cannes, and Rob [Pattinson] and [Willem] Dafoe, who’d been a lot, had told me stories. And Rob was telling me what it feels like to be booed at Cannes right before we were supposed to go on. I was really quite terrified. And to understand that not only were people receptive of the film but they were understanding me and my brother’s intentions, that was pretty incredible. And then to know that there were these lines of dedicated cinephiles trying to see it, I mean, it was a pretty overwhelming experience.

She has had many films in the festival, including her debut feature, “Chocolat” (1988).

Cannes for me before this pandemic represents, whether I go or not, a sort of a warm moment in the springtime. Even if I don’t go, I always know the list of films in competition. I follow the newspapers. I always read the articles if I’m not there. I have never lived through a month of May without knowing there was a festival in Cannes.