The Palais des Festivals is completely transformed. No sawdust, no broken glass, and, above all, no visible plywood. The festival rises like a butterfly from yesterday's mess, or maybe more like a moth. Now it's not a building but an airborne living being, batting drying wings around a very fickle flame.
This whole thing is like a film itself, built on the most common of movie themes: love versus money. Except that in the movies love is usually represented by a young idealistic champion and money by the greed of cynical age, whereas at the Cannes Film Festival the conflict between those two drives happens within the hearts of each of us who has a film to sell.
It's certainly that way for Suzanne and me today, as our movie, "Saving Luna" makes its appearance in the enormous Marché du Film, the hive behind the festival, where hundreds of people are trying to start buzz about four thousand films.
Our film, like so many, is a labor of love. We made it to honor the life of a little wild killer whale whom we knew and cared about as a friend, and the underlying themes about the nature of friendship and its persistence through time and among species are so important to us that creating the vehicle to carry them has absorbed us for years.
Yet here in the poster-lined halls of the Marché, we talk about advances, cross-collateralization, the deep pockets of investors, and potential return. If we're honest, we know that we must make money on this film; we need to pay off our debts and get some time to breathe and think about what we learned from this experience and how to make the next film. Yet that need seems crass compared to the idealism that drove us to make the film, that it seems unworthy of the film itself and almost a betrayal of the life we are working to honor.
In some people here that idealistic commitment is for a cause or for a story, or is simply a passion for the demanding and magnificent art of film. But the bottom line is very similar among us. One activist I talked to last night said all he really wanted to do with his film was put it on the Internet where everyone could see it, but if he did, he would financially ruin himself and most of his friends.
That tension within us between what feels like love and what feels like greed puts a different kind of buzz, like a high-tension wire, in our lives as we navigate this place, and maybe has a lot to do with how filled the days are with highs and lows.
On this first festival day, life for us goes dazzlingly bright, then dark. Not quite a horror show, but certainly a melodrama.
First thing in the morning we manage to get into the press screening of the festival's opening film, another masterpiece of animation and storytelling by Disney Pixar's, "Up."
What a satisfying, pleasant movie, with a surprising old-guy hero whose previous life and loss are described in a lovely early section without dialogue, told, as Variety says in the daily paper it puts out for the festival, "in a manner worthy of even the most poetic of silent-film directors."