The Circuit

There's some scenes in "Sicko" that made Harvey Weinstein queasy.

The film contains a complicated portrayal of Hilary Clinton, whom the distributor has long supported in the political arena. As First Lady, she was a major advocate of health care reform; however, as a presidential candidate, the health care industry has emerged as one of Clinton's major backers.

"Harvey asked me if it had to be in the movie," director Michael Moore said at the Q&A Peter Bart hosted this afternoon at the American Pavilion. "He's called me a couple of times to ask me if it's still in the movie and I've said yes and he respects me enough as a filmmaker to leave it in."

Weinstein, watching from the sidelines, smiled his assent. However, when pressed by Bart if as to whether he would officially throw his support to Clinton's presidential bid, the normally voluble film executive remained mute. (Variety staff)

Notes from Peter Bart and Peter Guber's Monday morning Roman Polanski interview for Sunday Morning Shootout (with thanks to gerardmalanga.com for the photo): 

Polanski isn't in any rush to return to America. "I have very black memories of that town," he said, referring to the Los Angeles murder of his wife, Sharon Tate, at the hands of the Charles Manson clan. The Vanity Fair libel suit (which he won) didn't help, either.

He still keeps tabs on Hollywood. "My connection is Variety." (Hey, he said it.)

Although sometimes he wonders why. "Most of (Hollywood moviemaking) is completely uninteresting to me," he said. "You see literally everything in the trailer. The marketing took over the art."

He misses the '70s. As to why that period was better for cinema, he said, "I'm asking this question of everyone around me and no one can give me a sensible answer," he said. "Everyone seemed happier then."
He's still planning to make "Pompeii." Sets are being build in Spain and Summit Entertainment is handling worldwide sales, but Polanski hasn't nailed down his leads. Orlando Bloom and Scarlett Johansson have been rumored; Variety has also heard Matt Damon.

He likes his movies. Responding to Bart's comment that Polanski favors scenes that are long and "play out," Polanski replied, "Yes, because they're well directed."

He likes Brett Ratner. "I've never met someone with so much energy and force of conviction," he said of his "Rush Hour 3" director.

He likes making money in ways he never expected. His critically derided 1967 horror sex comedy, "Dance of the Vampires," is now in the 10th year of its run as a musical adaptation. Now in production in Berlin, it's also been produced in Vienna, Stuttgart, Hamburg, Tokyo, Budapest, Warsaw and (briefly) Broadway. (Click here to see the film's original MGM trailer along with the studio's script notes.) The full Polanski interview will be broadcast on AMC's Sunday Morning Shootout, which is producing an hour-long Cannes special.

Your boss is interviewing Roman Polanski. He wants you to be there to take notes for the blog.

Your challenge: Find a cab on the Croisette at 10:30 am.

I'm not a big fan of reality television, but I have newfound respect for the poor souls who participate in "The Greatest Race."

The Grand Hotel tells me to find a cab in front of the Noga Hilton. There are no cabs at the Noga Hilton, unless they have been dismantled and pocketed by the teeming crowds clogging the sidewalk. I scan the Croisette, run toward a taxi and pound on its window, only to be told, "C'est non possible." There are no other cabs, not that it matters since traffic is all but stopped.

Then I get a brainstorm: Walk away from the Croisette, toward the A8. No traffic jams mean more cars; more cars mean more cabs. I am brilliant.

Thirty minutes later: I have walked far from the Croisette, across the A8 and into the city. I pass a gas station, where I consider waving a 50 Euro note and begging a customer to drive me. I see three cabs with passengers, two without but on the wrong side of the street and one from Antibes who says he doesn't know the address.

I am an idiot.

Finally, I do what I should have done in the first place and find a small hotel, go to the front desk and ask them to call a cab. The Cezanne obliges. I wait in front, hoping the sweat dries before I reach the shoot. When the driver arrives, I smile with relief and tell him where I need to go.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "That's 400 meters away," he says.

Somehow, that quarter mile still costs me 15 Euros.

Two more utterly true Cannes stories.

1. Rock and roll dreams still come true, as evidenced by the happy turn of events for Italian U2 fanclub member Deborah Trimboli. After driving five hours from Torino, the university student arrived in Cannes to take her place behind the crowd barriers in front of the Cannes Palais at three p.m. -- nine hours before the Irish pop stars were scheduled to perform prior to the premiere of "u23D."
 
Around midnight, a team of Variety staffers waiting near the red carpet (along with thousands of others) spotted the fan's blue U2 baseball cap and handmade sign. After getting permission from the gendarmes charged with keeping the crowds at bay, an editor sprinted across the no man's land between red carpet and rabid fans and presented Trimboli with an extra movie pass -- the Cannes equivalent of Charlie's golden ticket. 
 
And then, when the band cranked up for its two-song set, one gendarme's steely reserve was so thoroughly cracked by Trimboli's tears of joy that he personally escorted her onto the red carpet, only feet away from the performance. When last seen, she was in her seat inside the Palais, rocking out behind 3D glasses. (Steven Gaydos)

2. A U2 fan watching the fracas from across the Croisette took a step into the street and found herself sideswept by a car, which apparently ran over her foot. Hobbled and knocked out of her shoes, she fell to the ground -- only to face another car that seemed uninterested in stopping.

It was at this point that the crowd took action, throwing themselves across the car's hood and beating the windows with their fists until it stopped. Then, as they waited for the ambulance, the good Samaritans surrounded the car and refused to let it move before the police had a chance to talk with the driver. (Variety staff)

Roman Polanski with other "Chacun Son Cinema" directors, before he got testy.

It’s not easy to stand out among thirty-odd of the world’s greatest filmmakers, but Roman Polanski ensured his place in the headlines Sunday when he walked out on the press conference for “Chacun Son Cinema” (“To Each His Own Cinema”), the festival’s 60th anniversary film, complaining about the “poverty” of the questions.

“Computers have brough you down to this level,” Polanski said, suggesting that modern journalism required quick turnaround of information, but not much profundity.

“There are all of these film directors here but you know so little about us,” he said as he stood up, edged his way between the other seated directors and headed for the door.

He had a point. Dumb questions included one to Elia Suleiman, who was asked why there weren’t any Arab films in competition. The reporter was advised to put that to artistic director Thierry Fremaux, the man making those decisions.

But Cannes habitués know not to expect too much from fest press conferences, most often frequented by TV reporters looking for nothing more than a fast and loose soundbite to play to the folks back home. (Alison James)

This is a fine YouTube video of the performance.

People think Cannes is two solid weeks of high-stakes glamour and yachts. The truth is Cannes is a lot more like Rodeo Drive on steroids -- which, as that description suggests, isn't necessarily attractive.

However, almost every Cannes has one moment that, if it doesn't make up for all the others, ensures that any complaints you may have about Cannes fall on deaf ears.

This year, that honor belonged to U2. The band performed on the steps of the Palais at about 12:30 am Sunday morning.

It was a promotional stunt, of course; no Cannes spectacle happens by accident. But if you're going to shut down the Croisette and ensure that no one in the square-mile radius will be able to sleep until 1 am, at least it was for a good cause.

In this case that cause was "U23D," a 3D concert film directed by Mark Pellington and Catherine Owens. It's looking for domestic distribution, something that should arrive in short order. However, the producers didn't take any chances. I can't imagine the amount of planning and bureaucracy required to have U2 perform "Vertigo" and "Where The Streets Have No Name" on the red carpet. (Dana Harris)

The Cannes Film Festival is always instructive when it comes to seeing whose careers have quietly taken a turn for the worse. (Neve Campbell is voicing an animated film, "Agent Crush," that appears to be produced with puppets leftover from "The Thunderbirds." She is the love interest opposite a character named Boris Goodpharter.)
 
However, I prefer to hunt for a rarer breed: the truly awful projects starring actors whose careers have gone to seed.

So, without further ado, I bring you:

FASHION THE MOVIE
AN INTERNATIONAL OBSTACLE COURSE FOR UNDERCOVER CIA AGENTS IN THE GLAMOROUS WORLD OF HIGH FASHION

Click here for the trailer. I promise it's worth it. It stars Michael Madsen, Darryl Hannah, Faye Dunaway and David Carradine. They all get to operate automatic weapons and wear berets that pull their faces even tighter.

The best part: It's a trilogy.

The “Sicko” onslaught began Saturday morning with an early screening followed by an impassioned press conference with filmmaker Michael Moore.

His new film addresses the American healthcare system, a topic that enrages him as much as the Iraqi war or the easy availability of firearms. “What has happened to us as a people?” he said to the capacity crowd of international journalists. “Where is our soul?”

In America, some critics wonder if we’ve become overly familiar with Moore’s righteous-anger brigade. Nevertheless, early word on "Sicko" was good, with viewers describing the film as “surprisingly moving.”
 
Cannes is something of a warm bath for Moore, thanks to the festival’s rapturous responses to “Bowling to Columbine” in 2002 and Palme D’Or winner “Farenheit 9/11” in 2004. And this morning’s screening received rousing applause.

Although he expects the Bush Administration to pick apart his film — he’s already under investigation by the U.S. Treasury Dept. for a trip to Cuba with ill 9/11 rescue workers — Moore said he’s more concerned with the insurance companies and the pharmaceutical industry. Not until the profit motive is taken out of the health care industry will things really change Stateside, he said.

Asked how he plans to address his legal problems, Moore, who has until May 22 to respond, said he doesn’t take his legal liability “lightly.” He’s also taken a master duplicate of “Sicko” out of America, should he be prevented from screening the Cuban footage. Having to do that, he said, is “ridiculous” and “insane.”

“I’m an American. We should be able to travel freely,” he said. “This administration flaunts the law.” (Elizabeth Guider)

The collateral damage from yesterday's "Bee Movie" stunt wasn't Jerry Seinfeld's dignity. The zip line that carried him from the top of the Carlton Hotel to the beach? It ends on the Carlton Beach jetty -- the same one where Ashok Amritraj's guests were supposed to pick up a speedboat that would take them to a party on the S.S. Delphine Thursday night.

Instead, people walked to the end of the dock, opened the makeshift door on the "Bee Movie" facade and found a clutter of vaguely mechanical gear, a guard dog with a head like an anvil and no hope of a boat.

Turns out that the Carlton decided it wasn't possible to take down the zip line rigging that day and, as such, it was too dangerous to have people traipsing around it. Instead, yacht representatives were trying to grab people before they reached the beach and guide them toward a car that would take them to a more people-friendly dock two minutes away.

Fine. For me, anyway. However, one MGM exec was not amused. Presented with a seat in the Mercedes minivan, he said: "I don't do John."**

Replied the yacht representative, "Neither do I." (Dana Harris)

** Anyone have an idea what the hell he was saying? I get the point -- he's too important to suffer the ordinary inconveniences that would allow him to board a historic yacht -- but where did this snitty phrase come from?

For all the fuss over opening night, everyone knows it doesn't really count. The Cannes Film Festival doesn't start until the next day, when the celebrity stunts begin.

These stunts are part of the "other" Cannes, one that has nothing to do with any official screenings in the festival or in the market. Other Cannes is headquartered at the Carlton Hotel, a magnificent structure all but obscured by enormous billboards advertising films such as "The Simpsons Movie," "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer" and a Paramount Pictures summer release, "Stardust," that I can only presume is conterprogramming. (IMDB keywords: Sword Fighting / Fairy / Witch / Tree / Promise)

And this morning, rising above all of them, was Jerry Seinfeld in a bee suit. 

Seinfeld wasn't tapping into his inner Belushi; he allowed himself to be suspended on a cable strung from the top of the Carlton Hotel to the Carlton Beach on the other side of the Croisette in the name of DreamWorks Animation screening footage of "Bee Movie."Jerry, we hardly knew you.

For those keeping score at home, I hope you didn't base your Palme D'Or bets on the recommendations of Bodog.com. General consensus on Wong Kar Wai's "My Blueberry Nights"? Mixed to feh. In other words, it's like almost every other opening-night film in Cannes' history.  If you're "Fanfan La Tulipe," that means something for the film's release. And if you're "The Da Vinci Code," it doesn't. In the meantime, if your betting appetites remain unsatisfied, consider wagering on whether Michael Moore will be arrested before the release of "Sicko."  Harvey Weinstein will be disappointed to know that gamblers have their doubts. (Dana Harris)

Cannes officially began about two hours ago with the 10 am press screening of "My Blueberry Nights." We're waiting for the buzz that will follow; in the meantime, enjoy this tale from last year's festival. (A harried woman pushes buttons on a cell phone.)

WOMAN: (Journalist's name)? Hi, it's (Publicist) from (PR firm). I believe you were scheduled for an interview with (movie star) at 11 am?

JOURNALIST: Ohhh.

PUBLICIST: At the Majestic?

JOURNALIST: Oh. Ohhhh.

PUBLICIST: Are you on your way? Is there a problem?

JOURNALIST: I think I'm on the Cap D'Antibes.

PUBLICIST: Antibes? What you doing there?

JOURNALIST: I'm not sure. (pause) I had a lot to drink last night.

PUBLICIST: Do you know how you got there?

JOURNALIST: No.  

PUBLICIST: Do you know where you are?

JOURNALIST: I don't think so.

PUBLICIST: Are you alone?

JOURNALIST: I don't think so. (rustling noise) No.

PUBLICIST: You don't know who it is.

JOURNALIST: No.

PUBLICIST: Male or female?

JOURNALIST: I'm really not sure. Hold on. (More rustling, then a sigh of relief.) It's female. Thank God. (Dana Harris)

(Why are we troubling you with brain-clogging trivia? Eh, why not. Tuesday is the end of the non-festival, which means you'll have plenty of reality starting tomorrow. And I wanted a reason to post the official poster, the coolest one I've ever seen out of Cannes.)   1. "My Blueberry Nights" stars Jude Law and Norah Jones and is the current odds-on favorite at Bodog.com to win the Palme D’Or.
2. The title refers to a pie that plays a key role in the plot.
3. According to Harvey Weinstein, Jones was reluctant to take her role.
4. Also according to Weinstein: Director Wong Kar Wai convinced Jones by saying, “Hi, I’m Wong Kar Wai. He is, after all, the director of ‘I’m in the Mood for Love.’ That should have been enough.”
5. Wong Kar Wai is the only director to be represented both in Cannes’ 60th anniversary poster and in the 60th anniversary festival lineup.(Dana Harris)

The other night, Variety staffers had dinner at Mantel, one of the better restaurants in Cannes' old town district. (The chef, Noel Mantel, is a Alain Ducasse disciple.) The menu didn't say service compris (tip included), so they asked: Was service compris?

No, they were told. And to tip, we'll have to charge your card separately.

As a local told me, "That's absolute crap."

Of course, leaving a only buck or two in the U.S. is like asking a waiter to key your car. But if you've bought a meal in France, you've already paid a 15% tip. Under French law, a 15% tip is built into the price. Menus should read "service compris" (service included); that's a law, too. Throw down a few Euros for an exemplary experience and you're in good standing.

Some restaurants are even more aggressive than Mantel; the local said Caffe Roma, across the street from the Palais, "used to write something ambiguous on the receipt until it got picked up by the restauranteurs assocation and they were forced to change it."

Actually, it wasn't ambiguous: As you can see in the above photo, the receipts used to read "TIPS NO INCLUDED," right above "sce compris." (Note that this link goes to a blog post written during the Cannes Film Festival four years ago. And, to be fair, this blogger points out that tipping in France can seem baffling to locals, too.)

So, to be clear: Tipping isn't a French dining tradition. Unfortunately, at some Cannes restaurants, that's led to another tradition: Ripping off customers who don't know the difference. (Dana Harris)

No one tells you what Cannes is really like. Or maybe it's that no one really listens when you tell them. Celebrities, red carpet, Croisette, glamour, parties, blah blee bloo. All that is true -- I still remember standing next to Catherine Zeta-Jones in the Carlton Hotel elevator and thinking, Damn, she really is that beautiful -- but the problem is once people hear stuff like that, they zone out on the rest.

And the truth is, Cannes is nuts. For everyone. Sometimes it's funny-nuts and sometimes it's hysteria-nuts, the kind where you put your head between your knees and take five deep breaths and then five more and wonder if you can order a breakfast kir.

The first time I attended the Cannes Film Festival, in 1999, was head-between-the-knees-nuts, starting when the airline lost my luggage. Said luggage contained the formalwear required to enter the Palais Des Festivals, where (my editor had already informed me) I was still assigned to cover the opening ceremonies that night.

Poor me, I was forced to go shopping in Cannes when the dollar was still strong. So I went to Galleries Lafayette and bought a bunch of clothes for very little money, including a long sundress that looked fancy when you squinted.

However, to judge by the saleswomen who reacted with alarm, disdain and ooh-la-las, there isn't enough money in Cannes to become well shod when you have size 12 feet.

Size 12 isn't small in America, either, so I was resourceful enough to look for men's shoes. Turns out that, while French men are known to be fastidiously well dressed, their footwear is fairly butch. The closest I came to something to wear with my brownish sundress was a pair of black leather flip-flops, the sort of thing Archie Bunker might have worn if he lived in Lille.

That night I shuffle-walked down the Croisette toward the Palais, trying to keep my feet inside my too-wide sandals. I pushed my way through the crowd in search of a press entrance and couldn't find one, because there is no press entrance; the only way is up the red carpet. At that point, I realized that my sundress looked like an ambitious tablecloth and I could have done better to wear empty Kleenex boxes on my feet.

The security guard agreed. When I showed my program ticket to gain carpet access, he looked at my shoes and said, "Non."

"Sil vous plait," I said, thereby exhausting my French. Ticket; shoes. "Non." Ticket; shoes. "Non."

By now I was sil-vous-plaiting myself into a panic attack, but he was having none of it. "Your shoes," he said, pointing to my painted toenails. (Didn't they count for something?) "They are not right!"

He was right. So, when he turned to look at someone else's ticket, I slipped behind him and ran inside the theater.

And the moral of story is... well, I don't really do morals, especially not in Cannes. This is the festival where people will light themselves on fire to promote a movie. And I still don't dress very well. But I promise to do my best to bring you the real Cannes in all of its glamorous, tacky, absurd and otherwise amusing glory. In other words: I'll tell you what Cannes is really like. In the meantime, my name is Dana Harris. And, through May 25, I'll be your narrator at Fest Central. Bonjour and howdy.