The Cannes Film Festival ended on May 23, 2010. Although the subject matter of many films has been described by the press as “morose,” the atmosphere here at this time of year is anything but. . . . In fact, the daily processions of Ferrari, Maserati, Lamborghini or Rolls tend to put the recession at the back of my mind.
The other day in Cannes, I planned to count the number of red-carpeted steps leading up to the entrance of the Palais des Festivals. I have heard 24, but the lines of paparazzi and tourists, all armed with cameras, and some with lighting equipment and ladders, blocked the view.
A festival attracts more—more euros, more tourists and business for the service industries well as more cars. Trains and the bus number 200, all of which headed for Cannes, were crammed. The atmosphere of “more” led to traffic jams. Even Ferraris were held up in snarls, and chauffeured stars needed more than one hour to make the trip to Cannes from outlying area hotels in Mougins and the Cap dÁntibes. .
Even though activities focused on Cannes, the outlying towns have benefitted. Juan-les-Pins has numerous luxury hotels. The Belles Rives, just on the western edge of the Cap d' Antibes, popular with foreigners since the 1920s and where F. Scott Fitzgerald stayed, was rented by Schweppes to entertain clients or hold parties during the festival.
We all suspected something was going on given the exotics parked out front—a Mustang, Maserati, stretch Hummer and even a Rolls painted to promote the Schweppes events.
In contrast, even the two-star hotels had clients, but of a different nature, from the looks of beach towels and wet swim suits on balconies.
Exotic cars whizzed the narrow streets in front of my favorite café, the Crystal, where Brazilian acrobats performed and a Louis de Funès impersonator (from the Gendarmes film series) caused some unique traffic jams. Looking very much the official French official, this "gendarme" stopped a Mini to take its dimensions with a tape measurer, told another the road was closed and jumped in the back seat of another car. . . then, putting on his red clown nose, he motioned traffic to continue.
Photo of Patrick Chagnaud, artiste imitateur, in the style of the Gendarmes series
At the Port Vauban in Antibes, crews polished and preened yachts that ranged anywhere from 50 meters to 100 meters. The turquoise yacht resembling a cruise ship even had a matching helicopter.
Owners of restaurants hoped the warm, sunny days and proximity to beautiful people would attract clients and offset the slow tourist economy caused by months of rainy weather, volcanic ash and erosion from waves.
In the face of lavish parties and lifestyles, the train-train de la vie continued. The tango dancers attended milongas at Jack’s Blues Café. The regulars met for their afternoons of pétanque (likely followed by a pastis) at a site overlooking the Mediterranean. Other locals frequented their favorite bistro, such as those surrounding the Square Dulys or PMU. And those year-round inhabitants who still have errands to run or groceries to buy probably wondered if Ferraris come in any color other than red.
No comments:
Post a Comment