Since 2010, the opening movie of the Cannes Film Festival has also debuted in French cinemas on the same day (a Wednesday – the regular release day in France – until 2017, a Tuesday since 2018). By the admission of the fest’s General Delegate Thierry Frémaux, that detail – a contractually binding one – has made it increasingly difficult, if not impossible, to get an opener that isn’t French. The last time it happened was in 2019, with Jim Jarmusch’s The Dead Don’t Die.
Even with that in mind, the choice for this year’s inaugural screening – excluding the now traditional “pre-opening” with a restored classic, in this the 100th anniversary 4K of Chaplin’s The Gold Rush – was an odd one. Not because the movie, Amélie Bonnin’s Leave One Day, was bad, although this jukebox musical about family and homecoming wasn’t particularly exciting either. No, it’s because Cannes uncharacteristically gave the opening slot to a first feature with little international appeal and a cast that doesn’t exactly set the red carpet abuzz.
Was this a sign of things to come over the next eleven days? Not quite, as the festival – the event in the world with the most media coverage after the Olympics – quickly lived up to its reputation by hosting the world premiere of Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning the very next evening. In its own way, Christopher McQuarrie’s fourth entry in the action franchise was a perfect metaphor for the average Cannes experience: a bit baggy, sometimes overly reliant on nostalgia and fan service, but ultimately worth it thanks to one or two perfectly delivered moments.
Not that nostalgia is always a bad thing: the Cannes Classics section has thrived for two decades thanks to its commitment to bringing older movies back into the spotlight. And they don’t even have to be that old: Kevin Smith’s Dogma premiered – at the festival – in 1999, but to some it was just as obscure as some little seen film from the 1930s, due to rights issues keeping it largely out of sight for years. Now cleared to be shown again, the angelic comedy returned to the Croisette with Smith in tow, and the director told the crowd that if all goes according to plan, he intends to come back again in 2027 for the fest’s 80th anniversary – with the sequel!
On the newer front, it was largely a parade of the usual suspects, in no small part because Cannes is intrinsically tied to the world of French theatrical exhibition, which also means most movies not from the US or Asia tend to have at least a modicum of Gallic money behind them, and appearing in the Official Selection at least once before helps most directors get that support. This also contributes to ensuring Competition hopefuls obey the rule requiring them to either have French distribution already at the time of selection, or be open to acquisition by a local distributor before, during, or after the festival.
Because of this rule, Netflix has been missing from the official program for almost a decade, as the streamer is reluctant to agree to a non-competitive slot. No such qualms for Apple, though, as they cheerfully unleashed Andrew Dominik’s documentary Bono: Stories of Surrender prior to its debut on Apple TV+ at the end of the month. And it’s a shame most viewers will discover Dominik’s work – a vibrant black-and-white rendition of the U2 figurehead’s one-man show – on smaller screens, because Erik Messerschmidt’s cinematography is nothing short of breathtaking.
Also from Apple – albeit in co-production with A24, who will distribute it theatrically in the U.S. – was Spike Lee’s Highest 2 Lowest, which preemptively raised eyebrows on social media by those offended on behalf of Akira Kurosawa. Yes, it is technically a remake of High and Low (and, like the earlier film, an adaptation of Ed McBain’s King’s Ransom), but this is no pale imitation like the 2013 Old Boy redux (which Lee himself subtly disowned by forgoing his usual “A Spike Lee Joint” credit). It’s a compelling character study and portrait of a city, with New York playing just as big a role as Denzel Washington. And given its examination of the music industry, it would make for an interesting double bill with Ryan Coogler’s Sinners.
One of the rare duds – at least among the films I’ve seen at the time of writing this – was, sadly, one of the more anticipated films in the Competition strand: Julia Ducournau’s Alpha. While the director’s eye for visuals remains strong, pretty much everything else in this clumsy, belabored AIDS metaphor – with an almost comically overstated Tahar Rahim as the titular Alpha’s drug-addled uncle – left something to be desired.
And while others had a similar argument for Wes Anderson’s latest, which was undoubtedly a step backwards after Asteroid City seemingly owned up to its creator being in a bit of a creative rut, I still enjoyed The Phoenician Scheme, an impeccably framed caper which was refreshing in its choice to focus more on one character (played by a game Benicio Del Toro), with many of Anderson’s regulars – including newer recruits like Benedict Cumberbatch – relegated to bit parts or even cameos.
Also divisive, but certainly not for a perceived lack of anything to say, was Lynne Ramsay’s Die, My Love, a story of post-partum depression and a relationship falling apart that sets out to be uncomfortable pretty much from the very first scene (the sound design is deliberately off-putting in places). Jennifer Lawrence, who produced and handpicked Ramsay to direct after sending her a copy of the source novel, delivers her boldest performance to date, her fearlessness matched by co-star Robert Pattinson’s appetite for the weird.
Making his Competition (and Cannes) debut was Ari Aster with Eddington, a measuredly chaotic slice of life in early pandemic times that starts off as a Western (with Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal as rivaling embodiments of different facets of law and order) and slowly morphs into an odd, yet compelling exercise in dread. Its one major flaw? Not enough Emma Stone.
On the European front, an early highlight was Nouvelle Vague, which is directed by Richard Linklater but otherwise a wholly French production, lovingly and cheekily chronicling the birth of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, with a largely unknown cast bringing the eccentric director and his friend and peers to life with warmth and humor. Appropriately, the main press screening was held in the Debussy theater, Godard’s favorite Cannes venue.
And in the back half of the fest came what almost immediately stood out as my personal favorite of this year’s edition: Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value, a drama about art, family and depression that looks at, celebrates, and subtly lampshades various aspects of Scandinavian filmmaking (Stellan Skarsgård’s Gustav Borg, a Swedish director with a Norwegian former partner, a strained relationship with his children and a penchant for the autobiographical, is a thinly veiled take on Ingmar Bergman). Exquisitely put together, with a spellbinding performance by Trier regular Renate Reinsve, is strong enough to mostly makes up for the frankly insane decision to schedule the screening for us journalists at 10.30 PM. At least, unlike Gustav during the lion’s share of his daughters’ lives, the film actually showed up on time.
