As some of you followers might know (predictably closer to none), this is the day I got into Inside Llewyn Davis after 2 days of major ranting about the elitist wonderful priority system of Cannes Film Festival. Things in life are earned, and I genuinely appreciated the moment I walked into Salle de Soixantiéme, thinking I might be one of the plebs but I got there in the end.
And what I bittersweet film it was, contending as one of the Coens’ best films in years. They coveted the Palm d’Or with Barton Fink back in 1991, and Inside Llewyn Davis has a good shot, however I doubt it will win this year. But they might. Just might.
I didn’t go see any other films after that, as everything else in the day’s schedule paled in comparison to the Coens. I made my way back to the flat and devoured lots of brioche instead.