More Like the Neon Egotist

Friday, May 20th

All of festival, we have been hearing raving reviews about the South Korean film Agassi, The Handmaiden. Luckily for us, the festival replayed all of the Official Competition films all day Thursday and Friday.  We made plans to wake up and take a train in to see it Friday.

We low key knew what we were getting into. One of the longer films at Cannes, this story tells the tale of Sook-Hee, a con artist who is hired as a handmaiden to a Japanese heiress in attempt to trick her out of her fortune.

Ladies and gentlemen three parts is a very long time. My legs went to sleep and then the ants crawling feeling happened.

The story's three parts are told in different perspectives: the handmaiden, the Japanese heiress, and a combination of the two for the last part.

It had subtle humor, beautiful visuals, and a storyline that moved quickly. Be warned that this film is graphic to the extreme. All bets are off in South Korea apparently.

If you can stomach a little torture scene at the end and a lot lot lot of sex then you are good to go for this one.

After resurrecting the legs I walk on, we made our way to the train station to change into formal attire to beg for tickets (because I am not done trying to be a peasant!!!!).

The final premiere was Nicolas Winding Refn's The Neon Demon. It was not actually the final premiere in retrospect, but the final premiere we all wanted to go to. One last red carpet hooplah, if you will.

Donning the dress I bought for junior year prom and shoes purchased for senior year, I was reliving the glory days of high school. A bunch of people came and got ready in our room and we all took the train over, formal attire and all. (It's pretty fun to ride public transportation in formal attire, in case you are looking for a fun activity in a larger city.)

Upon arriving back in Cannes, we located the nearest pasta restaurant and sat down all decked out for wine and a meal. This restaurant had one of the largest outdoor eating sections in Cannes, complete with a very fluffy white poodle.

Dogs in France must not get over 45 lbs because I have only seen two big dogs: an Afghan and a Dalmatian. Dogs are people here. Do not ask to pet them. Do not think they are cute. Do not comment on them. They do not care about you.

After a carafe or two of rose and basil pasta, we headed to transform into well-dressed low-lifes who must grovel to the fancy and wealthy for tickets to the edgy film premiering.

Two Indian men came up and offered Taylor and I one ticket. Upon us taking it, they put their thumbs up and took a picture. Why? I will never know.

We scored another ticket not too long after, and hurried to meet the cut off of the red carpet.

My ticket was for the balcony, the others having tickets for the orchestra, so I had the experience of walking a red carpet solo. It's much different than when Julianne Moore does it. The general public is shuffled to and from, masses flocking to the doors to get good seats but also sneaking iPhone photos.

I'd like to give the selfie culture of America a shoutout for teaching me all the techniques I know to capture the perfect, blurry moment of my face against red carpet-clad stairs. Also to Spanx for understanding that red carpet attire is unforgiving.

I sat in the middle of an older French man (late seventies) and two young French girls who talked about Elle Fanning's dress the entire time. That showing really saw some Grade-A facial expressions from myself, but alas! I could share them with no one because French man looked perplexed the whole film and the French girls had each other.

What a film. Potentially the oddest film at Cannes (that is saying something). First of all, Nicolas Winding Refn is potentially the worst. He came into the theater early and hogged the red carpet. I think we were all pretty irritated.

After the MOST BIZARRE film (cameo of Keanu Reeves as a jerk motel owner), about the fashion industry and how it eats you alive (literally there is cannibalism), I sat in shock. Not even the overly loud music and neon lighting could save it. I kept thinking to myself "this shot would make a nice still frame but...not a moving shot..." and yet it kept going. If you were a fan of Drive, this is forty two notches downward.

The film ended and as I struggled to put back on my high heels (took them off for the sake of my very red feet) I noticed that Refn was not going anywhere. He bathed in the applause and then milked it by not leaving the theater, so it got forced really quickly.

The movie was a neon (appropriately named) tale in which Refn tried to prove he is the next Stanley Kubrick. Not quite. Also his preteen daughter came to the screening. If I had seen that at a pre-nineteen year old age I would have been scarred for life.

I walked out, not sure what reality was and wasn't, to Gaspard Ulliel standing by the exit!!!!!!! This made everything worth it. SO HANDSOME. SO FRENCH. SUCH A TINY MUSTACHE.

We stood next to him for ten minutes, staring. I couldn't help it.

Picking my jaw up off the floor and standing a little straighter, I collected myself and walked down the street to hang out with our group before heading home.