Second day of festival, workshpos and meetings. Cannes is definitely a living contraddiction, quiet and alive at the same time. The sun of the last days of may worshiping this part of the world makes everything better, cheerful. It's cinema power! Today is the day of Turner's pamphlet by Mike Leigh (also known for Secret and Lies, 1966), the story of the English painter at the beginning of 1800. A multimillion pre-production. Who knows how much this special effect of a sunny day and some cheerfulness costed to the studio. Who knows if tomorrow when Polish, Turkish, Italian film makers come there' ll be only rain and depression, as we can' t afford anything else. It's all a matter of budget. To be correct, an italian average film needs a budget of about two million euros whereas an english (or french) movie needs a buget of about five. Finally, an average american movie requires some 10 million euros and one from Hollywood costs 50 million euros.
Of course, there are plenty of low and micro budget movies shot every year. The – former- question is: do we know how to tell stories that involve a wide variety of audiences, not mainly from Italy or from Europe? A great story should get through the geographycal borders, shouldn't it? Can our screenplay writers do this exercise? Do they want to do it? A rethorical question., but interesting enough, considering the raising national budget gap. As there' s no audience for our stories we produce stuff “just for ourselves and ourselves only”. Self-referential, old and decaying movies. The average audience in Europe is aged around 50 years (a little more in Italy, maybe). The average audience. The greatest worldwide cinematography (Bollywood) can count a billion of people as a potential audience. They are not even 30 years old.
Oh God, I'm sure, tomorrow it will rain.
Meanwhile new beings gather at the croisette.
Or, that is, some kind of bionic transformation of the creatures that were there yesterday. These pariah who love souvenir pictures are equipped with ladders of every inmaginable shape, just to avoid to take photos only of the neck of the pariah in front of them. And so, with a peculiar atmosphere, in this well-organized, multi-shaped moltitude that constitutes the Cannes festival all those coloured, aluminium, objects have just appeared in front of the Palais du Festival, shaping an horizon made of little, tiny peaks, waiting to be stormed by their owners. I believe somoeone should have had this idea in first place. And I am thinking of loads of people that are at least 50 years old equipped with their cannes-ladder, renting the steps at a different price for different levels. When Thimoty Spall arrives (the icon of Leigh movie, already praised as if he won the Golden Palm) I get the situation: moltitudes of worshipping people hidden behind shooting cameras create a sort of technological wall leaning on little aliminium peaks. Who knows if Turner would likely paint this.