The Greatest Showman #1321 - Small Town Cannes

The train carriage gently rocked, with the warm golden sunlight spilling through the windows onto the tabletop. By May, the temperature had started to feel sultry. Ren Li, without realizing it, began to nod off, eventually resting his head against the window, pushing his baseball cap up slightly, and drifting into a drowsy sleep.

"Wow."

A sudden burst of exclamations echoed through the carriage. Ren Li jolted awake, tugging his cap back into place, rubbing his eyes, and sitting up straight. He scanned his surroundings before noticing that most of the passengers were gathered by the right-side window.

Turning his head, Ren Li looked out, and beyond the clear golden hue of the sunlight, he was struck by the pure blue sky—an endless expanse that seemed to pull at the depths of his soul. The sky spread out without limit, and in the blink of an eye, the mint blue deepened into shades of peacock, navy, and dark blue. All the waves and patterns vanished into the infinite horizon, while the golden halo on the water's surface was tinged with soft sky blue.

The sea and skyline faded, and the world seemed to dissolve into nothing but blue.

Ren Li recognized it instantly—the Côte d'Azur had arrived.

The coastline, winding and rugged, revealed the grandeur of the blue, both enchanting and heart-wrenching, with a sense of excitement that only the embrace of such a color could evoke. The vivid blue was pure, simple, and captivating—its depth and richness could only be appreciated by those who stood before it.

This wasn't Ren Li's first visit to the Côte d'Azur, yet each time, he couldn't help but sigh in awe.

The wonders of nature always rendered language insignificant and made human endeavors feel small.

Leaning against the window, he silently admired the breathtaking blue, letting go of the complexities and trivialities of life. Everything around him faded into simplicity—his mind quieted, and the world seemed to vanish, leaving only the calm, endless blue. No joy, no sadness, no troubles, no hatred—just an infinite calm, and his mind eased into peace.

As the train entered the boundaries of the Côte d'Azur, Cannes was in sight.

Tomorrow, the 66th Cannes Film Festival would officially begin, drawing journalists and movie enthusiasts from around the globe to this small city on the French Riviera.

When discussing the three major European film festivals, Berlin is the most political, Venice boasts the oldest history, and Cannes stands as the most famous. The Cannes Film Festival is the largest film trading market in Europe, the most popular film viewing event, the most influential comprehensive festival, and the most esteemed screening venue.

Every year, over 400,000 spectators flock to this tiny town for the event.

Yet, Cannes is a small town with a population of fewer than 70,000. It lacks the industries, vibrant tourism, and stunning natural beauty that might be expected. The world knows Cannes for three "S"s—sun, sea, and sexiness—but those who have visited know that these are mere marketing gimmicks.

When it comes to the sun, Monaco's yachts offer the finest spots for sunbathing. For the sea, Eze provides the most beautiful views of the Mediterranean. As for sexiness, the nearby celestial beaches near Nice are a European favorite.

In truth, the Côte d'Azur boasts many towns and beaches better suited for relaxation and vacation than Cannes.

But Cannes? It's just an ordinary town with rough beaches, scorching sun, and little to offer beyond the film festival. Were it not for the Cannes Film Festival, few would visit year-round. Yet, because of the festival, Cannes has transformed into a sparkling gem on the coastline, rivaling Nice in its allure.

In 1946, the first Cannes Film Festival marked the town's entry into history. Since then, it's not only become a top resort but also added a prestigious new member to the world's most celebrated film festivals.

Tall palm trees line the grand coastal road, flanked by five-star hotels, flagship stores, and luxury casinos. It is the epitome of Vanity Fair's intoxication. Private bars, exclusive beaches, yachts, and clubs dot the coastline, creating a world of luxury and opulence.

The white buildings, blue sea, and green shrubbery make Cannes both sophisticated and elegant, despite its unassuming appearance.

When it comes to the Cannes Film Festival, the words innovation and progressiveness are key. After navigating through early challenges, including the "May Storm" interruption, the festival quickly found its footing and became firmly established on the international stage.

Among the major European film festivals, Cannes is the most international. With 18 Palme d'Or wins, the United States leads the pack, followed by Italy with 12. France has claimed the prestigious award nine times. The UK, Denmark, and Japan each have four.

Cannes is the most welcoming festival for Asian films, with Chinese, Japanese, South Korean, Iranian, and other films enjoying great success here. Between 1988 and 1999, Chinese-language films were integral to the festival, consistently earning accolades.

Moreover, Cannes is the most commercial of the major festivals, embracing Hollywood productions and showcasing their accessibility to mainstream audiences. This approach has cemented Cannes' place as the largest global film market, leaving Toronto to play catch-up.

Cannes has broken boundaries—art and commerce, national and regional divides, awards and marketing. From selection to jury decisions, from media to promotion, it has consistently stayed ahead of the times, keeping pace with globalization.

Naturally, Cannes has faced its fair share of criticism, especially from traditional European filmmakers who argue that commercialism overshadows artistry. Yet, no one can deny the success of the festival, which continues to foster a virtuous cycle of excellence.

Every year, Cannes' film submissions surpass those of Berlin and Venice in both quantity and quality.

Berlin has launched a foundation to support German films, with its awards increasingly influenced by politics and art. Venice, constrained by local preferences, is attempting to raise the profile of Italian cinema. As a result, both are gradually falling behind Cannes in international influence.

Despite the controversies, the Cannes Film Festival remains one of the most highly anticipated events of the year. The opening film, The Great Gatsby, has sparked debates for its compromise to Hollywood, but the festival's strength lies in its selection of films, with 20 entries for the main competition that generate both excitement and discussion.

No one can resist Cannes.

What's interesting, however, is that Cannes is the only major festival not fully open to the public.

What does that mean?

At the Berlin, Venice, or Toronto film festivals, the audience is central. They rush between venues, carefully planning their movie viewings, determined to catch the latest works from filmmakers and actors they admire. The experience of watching films becomes both an exhausting and exhilarating adventure.

But Cannes is different. Its main screening venue is a single film palace, and the primary audience is the media and industry professionals. Ordinary viewers can only hope for the rare opportunity to secure a ticket.

The Film Palace, inaugurated in 1949, is a historic building with six floors and 25 small auditoriums. The largest, the Lumière Hall, can hold about 2,000 people. The other rooms are much smaller, often only seating 20 to 30 viewers. Many of the screenings are reserved for the film market, where buyers and sellers assess films for potential deals. A portion is set aside for media, with some screenings taking place earlier than public showings, allowing journalists to write reviews and prepare interviews.

Cannes' exclusivity is part of what makes it unique. With only a single venue capable of accommodating audiences, the festival limits its screenings to a maximum of two or three a day. Despite this, it attracts over 400,000 spectators every year.

This is Cannes.