The Order of the Day was supposed to be comprised with the Benecio del Toro-starring Jimmy P. as the starter, to be followed by the new Coen brothers’ latest Inside Llewyn Davis as the main course. Turns out I failed to wake up for the former, and missed out on not only one but two screenings of the latter. Consider it a clusterfuck – social unrest was brewing outside Salle Debussy (which has about 1,800 seating capacity) and even worse outside Salle Bazin (300 plus seats) – meaning if I calculate it using basic fucking arithmetic, 2,100 seats cannot accommodate 4,000 accredited journalists. And that doesn’t even include industry professionals and market hagglers. How on Earth this is organised is certainly an exceptional piece of work.
Even the once ideal blue badges are turned down, let alone those with yellow badges. ‘Jaune’ takes a whole new meaning, and it’s treated worse than excrement. Someone told me the other day, upon noticing my yellow-coloured countenance, that I’ll be spending more time queuing up than the total running-time of all the films I’ll ever see in Cannes.
He’s right. But I told him at least I’m here. I’ll queue the shit out of anything, even if that means I have zero to little chance of seeing a film months before the rest of the world can.