Festival in Cannes Review
by Karina Montgomery (karina AT cinerina DOT com)July 2nd, 2002
Festival in Cannes
Rental
Festival In Cannes is exactly that; shot during the Cannes Film Festival, it is a fictionalized account (shot as sort of a mockumentary) of the incestuous wheeling and dealing and love matches and sexual predation that occur during major film festivals. It's a very clever idea, using the real life Cannes setups of glitz and forced business and relaxation (and readily available cameos) to make it feel more real. Occasionally it is slightly perplexing in its cinema verite, making a few assumptions that we the audience have all been to Cannes, and know how it is. However, it eventually grabs your attention, and you have to see it through, even though it is a wee bit contrived here and there. The wrap up is very tidy and not at all very female empowering even though the film ostensibly starts out fully supporting an intelligent, mature actress' stabs at auteurdom. However, none of it is too implausible, given Hollywood today.
Greta Scacci is Alice Palmer, who has great ideas for a film. Enter the sleazy producer, who just wants a bit out of the pie, but of course ends up twisting the film into the direct opposite of what she originally intended, all in the name of supporting the struggling artist. Watching the surely-based-on-reality machinations of the crazed spin sharks oozing up and down the azure coast is a sight infrequently seen in Big Studio Films. The film is full of love and manipulation and BS and confusion and double dealing and compromise upon compromise, until by the end of the film you can't trust anyone. Perhaps you can trust Alice, but she isn't who you thought she was, either.
The seaside splendor and beautiful people are nice to look at while you wait for the story to get going, as well. Anouk Aimee steals the show in a tired diva's parade through the twilight of her career. Someone please explain to me how these women, who are beautiful both inside and out (or at least they have had internal cosmetic surgery so their souls appear beautiful) are always with utterly transparent, skanky dirtbags. It was almost comedic, so hopefully it is an exaggeration. What a revoltin' development, otherwise.
Director Henry Jaglom's mini bio on imdb.com describes him as an independent filmmaker in the John Cassavetes mold, who has created a very personal, highly eclectic body of work outside of the studio system. This being my first Jaglom film, I must say that I am interested to see more. He also did that film about the Hamptons, which I suspect was a similarly themed mockery of the annual inanityfest of rich hobnobbery. This film hopefully was making more jibes than it purports to; I hope Evil Hollywood types see themselves in the mirror and find the error of their ways. In the meantime, we obscure types can just relax and enjoy the luxury of not having to deal with people sliming us for our fame or our name.
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These reviews (c) 2002 Karina Montgomery. Please feel free to forward but just credit the reviewer in the text. Thanks.
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