CANNES -- *Finalement!* Opening night's movie--Patrice Lecomte's
"Ridicule"--is screened for the press. A period piece, an
incisive satire
on the social importance of appearances, clothes, and *bons mots*, at the
King's court. Whether you're a peasant, an aristocrat or a priest, be
gorgeous, be witty, dress up, or you're DEAD. Sounds like Beverly Hills.
At the press conference, actress Fanny Ardant tries her damned best to
explain to a Belgian journalist how, *mais oui*, the 18th Century in France
was, in a way, a golden age for feminism. She's so charming she's almost
convincing.
"Francis" (read: Coppola) has been spotted on the
Croisette. Obviously,
he's made it just in time for the gala presentation of Lecomte's film (in
competition).
Garb-wise, the Croisette's gone schizo. Black ties, rhinestones and high
heels (the gala crowd) cross paths with jeans and sneakers (the press
screening lot, on their way to tomorrow's films). The two clans
deliberately ignore each other. The "penguins" go to the Official Dinner
(yawn!), the rest gathers right across the street from the Palais, at the
Majestic bar, which is quickly turning into *the* watering
hole-cum-rendezvous point.
Question: What is John Malkovich doing in town? And Dustin Hoffman? Neither
of them has a film in competition. What gives?
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