Showing posts with label CANNES. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CANNES. Show all posts
Friday, 16 May 2008
Brangelina, Pandas, Vodka and Blindness
Yesterday was a long day.
It began with a sleepy Danny Glover, late for the interview because he'd gone to the wrong hotel, answering Lisa's questions with a glazed over, geriatric air, but coming across as warm, grandfatherly and deeply likeable.
Back to file that then straight to a bunfight of a press conference where a heavily pregnant Angelina Jolie confirmed to the world she is expecting twins. It was the cast and crew of Kung Fu Panda, the latest Dreamworks animation, and most of the big-name cast was there - Dustin Hoffman was belligerent and pseudo-intellectual, Jack Black was annoying (OK, you're unattractive, don't keep trying to compensate by saying everything in a silly voice), and Jolie - well, she was glowing. Everybody said the right things and it was over, on to prepare for more 'panda-monium' at the premiere.
And a Cannes premiere is a special thing. Formal evening dress is compulsory - even jokers like me are forced to squeeze into a bow tie and the stars that grace the red carpet for the most part warrant our attention. Having said that one flame-haired scantily-clad woman at this particular one just stayed there posing for over a quarter of an hour, prompting me to ask an official who she was. "Nobody knows" she replied "We think she's in porn". Classy.
Soon all was forgotten when Angelina and the cast showed up for starters, then she popped off and reappeared for the main course - her and Brad side by side, stroking each other's bumps.
Anyway, it was long and pretty physical amongst the paps, but the day wasn't finished yet. We were off to the GQ party to promote the upcoming Britflick How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.
On arrival, we chatted to Lily Allen about her breasts being all over the British tabloids, and various people about the film. Toby Young, the author of the autobiographical book, was annoying, while Simon Pegg, who plays him in the film, was charming and funny. Mischa Barton posed but didn't stay and chat.
Once the interviews were over, we headed into the party where we were immediately offered vodka in shot glasses made of ice. The guests were a mix of A to Z listers and industry bods, from Harvey Weinstein to that bird who presents the showbiz on GMTV. One news presenter on a major channel was wandering around three sheets to the wind, and it seemed a good time was had by all.
Then we took a taxi back, stayed up editing and filing til 4, then I couldn't sleep until 7. A proper 'nuit blanche' as they call it here, but not in such a good way.
That was yesterday. More about today tomorrow.
It began with a sleepy Danny Glover, late for the interview because he'd gone to the wrong hotel, answering Lisa's questions with a glazed over, geriatric air, but coming across as warm, grandfatherly and deeply likeable.
Back to file that then straight to a bunfight of a press conference where a heavily pregnant Angelina Jolie confirmed to the world she is expecting twins. It was the cast and crew of Kung Fu Panda, the latest Dreamworks animation, and most of the big-name cast was there - Dustin Hoffman was belligerent and pseudo-intellectual, Jack Black was annoying (OK, you're unattractive, don't keep trying to compensate by saying everything in a silly voice), and Jolie - well, she was glowing. Everybody said the right things and it was over, on to prepare for more 'panda-monium' at the premiere.
And a Cannes premiere is a special thing. Formal evening dress is compulsory - even jokers like me are forced to squeeze into a bow tie and the stars that grace the red carpet for the most part warrant our attention. Having said that one flame-haired scantily-clad woman at this particular one just stayed there posing for over a quarter of an hour, prompting me to ask an official who she was. "Nobody knows" she replied "We think she's in porn". Classy.
Soon all was forgotten when Angelina and the cast showed up for starters, then she popped off and reappeared for the main course - her and Brad side by side, stroking each other's bumps.
Anyway, it was long and pretty physical amongst the paps, but the day wasn't finished yet. We were off to the GQ party to promote the upcoming Britflick How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.
On arrival, we chatted to Lily Allen about her breasts being all over the British tabloids, and various people about the film. Toby Young, the author of the autobiographical book, was annoying, while Simon Pegg, who plays him in the film, was charming and funny. Mischa Barton posed but didn't stay and chat.
Once the interviews were over, we headed into the party where we were immediately offered vodka in shot glasses made of ice. The guests were a mix of A to Z listers and industry bods, from Harvey Weinstein to that bird who presents the showbiz on GMTV. One news presenter on a major channel was wandering around three sheets to the wind, and it seemed a good time was had by all.
Then we took a taxi back, stayed up editing and filing til 4, then I couldn't sleep until 7. A proper 'nuit blanche' as they call it here, but not in such a good way.
That was yesterday. More about today tomorrow.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Two out of Five
So there I was, a flash of blue pinstripe in a sea of black tuxedoes, soaking up my first Cannes premiere, when it happened.
Two of my laminated Top Five turn up on the red carpet holding hands. Aishwarya Rai and Eva Longoria, God knows how they know each other, float into view as I take deep breaths behind the camera and try to keep steady.
It was the screening of Blindness, Fernando Meirelles' latest and the film everyone's pretending to get excited about while killing time before Indiana Jones.
So - a long old day, kicking off with kung-fu fighting Jack Black and ending with red carpet glamour at the official opening, followed by a media party hosted by some PR agency where good contacts were made.
All in all not a bad day's work. It's now coming up midnight and we have yet to file our last stuff, with another packed day planned for tomorrow. Interesting to see how long before the cracks start to show...
Two of my laminated Top Five turn up on the red carpet holding hands. Aishwarya Rai and Eva Longoria, God knows how they know each other, float into view as I take deep breaths behind the camera and try to keep steady.
It was the screening of Blindness, Fernando Meirelles' latest and the film everyone's pretending to get excited about while killing time before Indiana Jones.
So - a long old day, kicking off with kung-fu fighting Jack Black and ending with red carpet glamour at the official opening, followed by a media party hosted by some PR agency where good contacts were made.
All in all not a bad day's work. It's now coming up midnight and we have yet to file our last stuff, with another packed day planned for tomorrow. Interesting to see how long before the cracks start to show...
Smokin' Sean Penn
For those of you worried that media-shy Sean Penn would be something of a damp squib as the President of this years Grand Jury at Cannes, worry no longer. At the inaugural press conference when this year's jurors are sworn in, Penn was quite literally smokin'.
Seriously, I'll put up a picture when I get one, he had to have a cigarette break. A woman on the panel claimed it was for 'some medical reason', then three of them, including Penn lit up there and then.
Seriously, I'll put up a picture when I get one, he had to have a cigarette break. A woman on the panel claimed it was for 'some medical reason', then three of them, including Penn lit up there and then.
Indiana Jones and the Spooky Media Blackout
Does Indy stink?
Something does, and the word on the boardwalk here in Cannes is that it's the new Spielberg project. Let me explain.
In the run-up to Cannes, big broadcasters were promised high-profile interviews with the A-list cast, and the media were salivating at the prospect of covering a proper Hollywood blockbuster while pretending to be arthouse.
And then the apology emails went out and the PR phones were switched off.
The big-name crews I've just been speaking to at the Palais des Festivals have been bounced, and it all points to the unthinkable - from a professional and personal point of view - that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is s**t.
Indiana Jones day is Sunday and surprise surprise screenings are scarce, but we should know more then. Watch this space.
Something does, and the word on the boardwalk here in Cannes is that it's the new Spielberg project. Let me explain.
In the run-up to Cannes, big broadcasters were promised high-profile interviews with the A-list cast, and the media were salivating at the prospect of covering a proper Hollywood blockbuster while pretending to be arthouse.
And then the apology emails went out and the PR phones were switched off.
The big-name crews I've just been speaking to at the Palais des Festivals have been bounced, and it all points to the unthinkable - from a professional and personal point of view - that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is s**t.
Indiana Jones day is Sunday and surprise surprise screenings are scarce, but we should know more then. Watch this space.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Our man in Cannes
It's 5.38pm on Day One of Cannes and already I'm running on empty.
We arrived in the pouring rain which soon turned to burning sunshine, by which time we were traipsing around the Festival circuit pressing PR flesh and getting ourselves accredited.
Then it turns out I'm a tuxedo down as I was told I wouldn't need one but guess what? So I scour the boutiques for a black suit costing less than a 4-bed flat in Willesden, before heading to the Palais. After an ambiguous word with one of the festival heavies I decided to buy a white shirt and bow tie and risk my dark blue pinstripe suit. We shall see come premiere o'clock but time's too short to worry.
We're off to the seaside harbour type riviera thing to film a piece to camera when Alison gets in, then we shall see whether or not I can actually feed back to ITN.
Of course I'm missing the obvious - that screw you guys, I'm in Cannes. The brief glimpses of the seafront with its sparkling blue waters, bright white yachts and mountainous horizon have whetted my appetite, and it feels good to be out here doing a job, getting paid to shoot and report and maybe watch the odd film.
Our man in Cannes. Has a nice ring to it.
We arrived in the pouring rain which soon turned to burning sunshine, by which time we were traipsing around the Festival circuit pressing PR flesh and getting ourselves accredited.
Then it turns out I'm a tuxedo down as I was told I wouldn't need one but guess what? So I scour the boutiques for a black suit costing less than a 4-bed flat in Willesden, before heading to the Palais. After an ambiguous word with one of the festival heavies I decided to buy a white shirt and bow tie and risk my dark blue pinstripe suit. We shall see come premiere o'clock but time's too short to worry.
We're off to the seaside harbour type riviera thing to film a piece to camera when Alison gets in, then we shall see whether or not I can actually feed back to ITN.
Of course I'm missing the obvious - that screw you guys, I'm in Cannes. The brief glimpses of the seafront with its sparkling blue waters, bright white yachts and mountainous horizon have whetted my appetite, and it feels good to be out here doing a job, getting paid to shoot and report and maybe watch the odd film.
Our man in Cannes. Has a nice ring to it.
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