The weather is unusually sunny this year in Cannes, which means that if you‚Äôre hurrying to a screening with your heavy computer bag, your badge flapping up and down on your chest, your feet long since blistered by your shoes, you‚Äôre bound to be sweatier than usual. Even those who never sweat turn up sweaty at screenings.
But to wait a full hour in line and be turned away at a screening can cause even the coolest among us to despair. This was why I decided to squirrel up my courage and talk to the press office about my yellow badge. I‚Äôd been told that if you make a good enough case they‚Äôre ‚Äúlook at your file,‚Äù which means they‚Äôre reconsider your application. In my case, I‚Äôd gotten a bump by doing some freelance reporting and reviews for The Wrap, which did change my application status. After a long, heated debate with a very pretty, poker faced woman wherein I invoked the French Revolution, I was informed that they would have a decision for me in the morning.
Since I‚Äôve been driving back and forth from Juan-Les-Pins to Cannes, I‚Äôve come to know the backstreets quite well. I‚Äôve learned, for instance, that the French people here, except in Cannes, shut their doors, turn out their lights and head to bed around 9:30pm. If you‚Äôre in need of dinner your choices are going to be fairly limited.