Killer Donuts + Russian News Interview

TODAY'S THE DAY....THE SUN IS SHINING....THE FESTIVAL BEGINS.

 We got up early and caught the train to Cannes to catch the showing of "Imperium" only to find it had been cancelled. Instead, we decided to dip across to the Palais to see "District 19". After sprinting through the Studio Canal section of the Marche du Film (film market for those of you at home), we found out that film had also been changed to an Aaron Eckhart film called "Courage" which was about a college football player who BAM! has to get his leg amputated and then DIES.

You'd think all of the bad lines and nonexistent chemistry was enough of a challenge for the audience but the director had other plans.

We dipped into "Attack of the Killer Donuts" after and not surprisingly, the small theater was pretty full. The tagline of the film "We've eaten them for years; now it's their turn!" was enough to convince me this was going to be cinematic gold. Do not worry, blog readers, it was.

After the introduction of intellectually stimulating characters such as 'hot-hispanic-mom', 'mad-scientist-uncle' and 'girl-who-wears-bras-as-shirts', we learn that the dimwit main character must save a town from donuts that now have the taste for human flesh. These CGI donuts literally grow teeth and chew on people. I won't ruin the ending for you, but it does involve a lot of uncomfortable dialogue.

A group of us made plans to go back to the apartments and get dolled up to beg for tickets to one of the hardest premieres to get into: Woody Allen's Cafe Society.

Here's why it's hard: as a festival goer, we get a badge that allows us access to all the screenings that are NOT premieres and access to event areas (hotel lobbys, pavilions of different countries, and discussion panels). If you want to go to a star studded premiere, you have to stand on the side of the road, fully dressed in black tie attire and beg for tickets.

Tonight was the Cannes opener (Allen's film) and the opening ceremony.

As we stood on the corner of the Majestic Hotel, waiting for a glimpse of sunshine (it was pouring rain) or Stephen Spielberg, I couldn't help but notice how unabashedly people were taking photos of us. If the French had a spirit animal it would be a cat. They truly do not care what you think of them and have no shame. We had people shake their heads at us, laugh, stop in the middle of the road to take pictures, and whisper apologies in French.

"Ah ze opener," said one woman. "Good luck wit dat."

Whilst standing in line with my dear friend Taylor, we were filmed by 3 different news crews and I was plucked out for an interview with a Russian News Channel. Olga and Anastasia were warm and friendly, looking ten times more glamorous in their metallic tennis shoes and pink quilted coats than I looked in a ball gown.

"But vhat are ya dooing in zis country?" they prodded. "Vhy do ya loove zey feelms? Ya are Ameerecan?"

After carefully not giving them my last name, I went back to my wet perch along with hundreds of others waiting to cross the road or see a celebrity.

I'll be honest: things were looking grim. Three friends before us had gotten tickets from wealthy producer-looking types who subtly handed them sought after slips of paper. To get on the red carpet, you had to arrive at 6:45pm. Around 6:20, a man looked at us and pushed two tickets into our hands. I audibly gasped before breaking into a sprint to get to the red carpet.

It was odd to hear people beg us for tickets when I had just received mine no more than five minutes ago. People were taking pictures as we stomped in water puddles all the way to the entrance to the red carpet.

After going through security and bag check, I noticed something I had never thought about: there is a soundtrack for the red carpet. The Rolling Stones and Prince are two of the artists I can remember in my daze.  It was an awe-inspiring experience to look over and make eye contact with Eva Longoria and Jessica Chastain. They were so close! Their hair so perfectly held together, untouched by the drizzling weather.

We snuck pictures of ourselves, being our own paparazzi, and then made our way inside the Palais to our velvet-clad chairs.

The opening ceremony was that of a mini awards show you'd see on television. A comedian host making jokes, celebrities hugging, dance numbers - you name it. And while we thought we were there to see Cafe Society, we clapped and laughed and sang along to 'Purple Rain' just like everyone else in the theater.

"Thank you for being here and all the great work you've done, Mr. Allen," the French comedian host directed at the director in the front row. "Now how is it the United States hasn't convicted you of rape yet?"

After a brief intermission, the film began, quirky, cute-sy and paired with a beautiful, jazz inspired overture. As far as the film itself goes, you'll probably enjoy most of it. I felt like it ran twenty minutes too long and absolutely none of the romantic interests have any kind of chemistry. Yet, I loved the costumes and the lines about the Jewish culture.

The actors that play Jesse Eisenberg's Jewish parents stole the movie in one scene.

"First I find out my son's a murderer," sighs the mother, "But NOW I find out he's converted to be a Christian?"

"It's too bad the Jewish faith doesn't believe in the afterlife," she moans. "If we did, we'd get a lot more customers."

In short: none of the characters were really in love and none of the female characters had any redeeming qualities. It was a fun night overall (life changing I would add), but Allen's newest adventure falls flat. Let's get out of the 20s, Mr. Allen!!! Take the present on for a change.

Come back tomorrow for another tale and possible documentation of all the pastries I have consumed.