Respect the trees

Am typing this up back at the flat, because I’m having a slow start today. The flat, though very handy for the centre of Cannes and the market place, is also very noisy, and I was woken at 3:50 by a French couple having a very loud argument outside, then, as usual at 6am by the street cleaners. It seems to be a trade off – if you want peace and quiet you have to stay an inconveniently long way out; if you want convenience you also have to have disturbance. Anyway, my first meeting is at 12, so I’m in no hurry, although I would like to book a slot in the Short Film Corner today.

So, the last couple of days have been a mixed bag. Two days ago I discovered that my poster for “Echoes” had been taken down – on enquiry, I was told it must have touched one of the trees painted on the walls and “you must respect the trees”. Pity they didn’t tell anyone to respect the trees before ripping posters down and throwing away £14-worth of high quality artwork. Also a pity that they don’t apply that rule thoroughly to everyone who disrespects a painted tree. Then went to the Screen Yorkshire shorts screening and was turned away because they said it was full. Saw Rob later and he said “why weren’t you in my screening?” and apparently it wasn’t full at all. Happily the day improved when I got to the Scottish Screen reception on the beach – being greeted with a glass of champagne with a raspberry in it was pretty cool, lots of yummy canapés and wine followed, and there were lots of people there that I knew – excellent party.

Yesterday woke up to discover that I’d been bitten on my leg – showed the bite to the pharmacist across the road - “ooh la la!” she said, pulled a horrified face and gave me a tube of some powerful gunk to put on it. Good thing is, I now know the international hand signal for mosquito. Bad thing is, my leg now looks disgusting (as bad as the Venice bite of two years ago) just as I was finally beginning to get a bit of a tan.

However, once again the day was improved by champagne, this time at a lunchtime reception at the French Pavilion for a Producer’s Guild of America Filmlab showcase that Steven invited me to – met some new people, and some that I first met last year, and saw some interesting clips and trailers. Then went to see “Six Shooter”, Martin McDonagh’s Oscar-winning short, at the UK Pavilion with Vanessa – very funny and also quite gory – very Martin McDonagh. This was followed by a Q+A about making the leap into producing a feature, which was interesting – almost all the talk was about finance, how hard it is to get it, and how complicated to manage it. Then some confusion about whether I was supposed to be at a BAFTA LA thing at the Grand, or at the Bar Cristal to say goodbye to Alison, the first of my flatmates to flee Cannes – went to the Grand, saw Phil who I first met last year, then ran to the bus top to see Alison off, so actually achieved both tasks. Then me and my sore leg spent the rest of the evening in a packed American Pavilion watching football with Zhara from Gateshead, and Malcolm McDowell, who has possibly the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

And now I should shower, and maybe have more coffee, and then make a crucial decision – long trousers, or skirt today?