Last Daze

Sunday, May 22

We knew this day would come. It is the final day of the film festival that has given me so much (festival badges, unlimited San Pellegrino, Orlando Bloom) and taken so much away (my waistline, shame in begging for tickets, one high heel that broke).

Today they played all of the official competition films one more time in preparation for the closing ceremonies. One last chance to deem which movie will win or see an obscure foreign film so you will sound even more revolting when you get back to the United States.

We took a train in (thankful for no more strikes) to see Ken Loach's latest I, Daniel Blake. What a masterpiece. People walked out of this theater with black runs of mascara and stifled sniffles.

Daniel Blake (Dave Johns) is a lower income worker with both the best and worst heart around. Worst because he is unable to work due to a heart condition that causes a heart attack. Best because he is the most selfless and fights for the underdog. In order to get the benefits he needs to survive, he must prove he is actively looking for work. However, he can't actually get a job because he is deemed unfit for work by his doctor.

Along the way, he meets Kattie, a single mother who is struggling to make ends meet with two children and no employment.

Their friendship is one of selflessness and their story is a treasure.

Ken Loach's film, which ended up winning the top prize at Cannes (the Palm d'Or), is a blunt look at the ineffective benefits system of the U.K.

It's the kind of film that will spark change because of its blatancy. You won't be able to think of anything else for a while as it seems to still be haunting me. I absolutely loved it.

After wiping our eyes, we made our way to stand in line for From the Land of the Moon, a story about the rather unstable French woman Gabrielle, played by Marion Cotillard.

Luminous, Gabrielle seems to break all the rules all of the time, falling in love with those she can't and having bits of kind-of-tantrums.

The movie, based on book Mal di Pietre by Milena Angus, follows the relationship she has to the man who parents marry her off to and a man she falls in love with while being sent away for medical treatment.

This film seems to be pretty polarizing. While it is soaked in a less embarrassing Nicholas Sparks feeling (pretty fantastical and love-centered), you can't help but feel for Gabrielle and the cast of characters that drift in and out of her life.

Either way, it was a beautifully shot French tale. A good alternative to anything on Netflix for a Friday night when you need to be transported away. The last 15 minutes are the pivotal moments of the film with developments you won't see coming.

Worth a viewing in my book. I thoroughly enjoyed a little romantic drama after I, Daniel Blake.

Here's where the day took a turn.

After two emotionally taxing films, we popped on over to the McDonalds like the faithful Americans that we are. Now before you close out of this blog forever, I'd like to mention that the ice cream at French McDonalds is unparalleled. You think McFlurries are good? Nope. The French have put in only the best candy (toffee, KitKats and peanut M&Ms) and also given you an option of what kind of syrup you want in there.

After we each got one, we settled down at a table and chair set to eat them.  Unfortunately this is pigeon metropolis. These birds are bold bold bold. As someone on our trip noted, "These pigeons are disrespectful" and honestly I could not agree more.

In a moment of good humored fun, a friend threw a french fry my direction. That is where all bets were thrown to the wind as five pigeons took flights to swarm me. I'm talking about feeling the flaps of disease-riddled wings beat against my back as Alfred Hitchcock came to mind and I screamed bloody murder.

Apparently a look of such unbridled fear had never been seen by those around me because they all broke into a fit of laughter which continued on into the evenings.

Just before we got up to leave, a pigeon took flight and hit our beloved friend John with a bit of bird poop. Karma wasn't going to let a french fry throw go unnoticed.

After walking through the market, we hopped back on a train to head to our apartment in Juan les Pin. The train was particularly full of everyone leaving the festival for the last time and seats were scarce.

I found on next to a girl who was sitting beside a small carrier housing a washcloth, and quickly pulled my legs in from the aisle so other passengers could pass by.

Little did I realize who my seat companion was.

I looked over into the cage and saw the washcloth violently shaking around.  The older Italian gentleman across from me took notice as well and we watched in horror.

Haven completely given up the pursuit of the throaty French language, I asked her what was in her cage.

She popped open the lid to reveal Therese, he beloved (and quite large) guinea pig. But the Italian man couldn't quite see over the handle of the cage and missed this reveal.

"Vhat is in there?" he asked again?

"A guinea pig," she whispered. "Her name is Therese."

The old man look befuddled.

"You justa have a pig in dat cage right there?!?"

Nope. In fact, he never did really get the answers he was looking for and hurried off the graffitied train to tell his wife of the French girl toting a piglet named Therese and listening to the rock music.

We headed to the grocery store (oddly called "Casino") to get meats and cheeses for dinner.

I will miss telling people I'm going to the casino. It really sounds to them like I've had a lot of success there.

"Where are you going?"

"Well last time I went to Casino I had the best luck! I only spent 11 euros and picked up a bar of soap."

Now that's my kind of casino.

While we have about a week or so more in France, I can't imagine Cannes without the numerous white tents lining the beach for pavilions or the little security guards that wand you down with metal detectors.

Really, I could have smuggled pretty much anything on my body as they truly do not care what you're packing and barely tap you with the wand, but still.

What a fantastic and eye opening experience with some really amazing people and friendships. The Canadians really lived up to their stereotype, by far being the warmest country we encountered.

I will miss you, Cannes. Even the doorman at Chanel who everyday made understanding eye contact with me. I didn't ask to come in and he didn't open the door. It worked out pretty well.

Bonus Story:
A very sweet and very funny person on our trip scored tickets to the highly exclusive Neon Demon afterparty. The party boasted a lot of Schwepps products, a famous French DJ and hundreds and hundreds of partygoers. One such partygoer apparently was on a mission to find some cocaine.

Upon asking our sweet friend for coke and ultimately using the word "snow", our friend stated, "hahaha yes I do love snow!" thinking until after their conversation that they were just having a friendly chat about the weather.

Bon soir, EC