Cannes: Aftermath

I’m back to reality and I don’t like it.

The journey home was uneventful. I got back to the airport okay, I got away with something I should have paid a shit load for – I’m not going to say what here, because it’s illegal – and I got upgraded, again, on the flight back.

I was home by 13.00-ish and my bags were unpacked with washing done by 16.00. It’s as if I never went. Apart from the pile of (mostly worthless) business cards on the desk.

In Cannes, I was known as a writer – despite not writing a word all week (except this blog, but that doesn’t count). Back home, no one in my street knows I’m a writer, but I have to do it every day. I can’t help thinking it’s easier the first way.

It was fun, it was hot and it was expensive; but was it worth it?

These were my expectations before I went:

Not a lot really. I don’t for a moment believe I’m going to come back richer, better known or better connected; I don’t expect to sign a mega-bucks deal with some desperate Hollywood exec; and I don’t even expect to see many films.

I suppose my only real expectation is to come back considerably lighter in the wallet.

Right. Not much to evaluate there, but here goes:

  • Not coming back richer: did that one.
  • Not coming back better known: I think I failed at this one, I did manage to introduce myself to a few people. Some of them even made films.
  • Not signing a mega-bucks deal … : I don’t know. I didn’t sign one, neither technically has Marion; but she has negotiated one which hopefully will be signed soon and I stand to benefit financially if it comes through. Is that a hit or a miss?
  • Not seeing many films: I saw one – it was shit.
  • Coming back considerably lighter in the wallet: oh yeah. No food for Phill until the end of the month. Possibly next month.

Despite all that, I came back with a couple of reasonable leads: the phone number of a producer who’s optioning a book and may need someone to write it; the email address of a another producer who badgered me into pitching a TV series to her; and the opportunity to sit down and talk about a comedy feature for two other producers.

Celeb wise: I had dinner in the same room as Mickey Rourke and Shannon Elizabeth (although she was one of three very similar brunettes at the next table, and I’m not a hundred percent sure which one was her); and I had a drink in the same bar as Malcolm McDowell.

I wasn’t exactly hob-nobbing with the stars.

Best moment: pitching ‘The Seven Swords of Bathrick’ and having people laugh in the all right places.

Worst moment: the stomach-wrenching incident which led directly to me performing an illegal act at the airport.

Funniest moment: the expression on the doorman’s face when we rocked up to this casino in this car.

Most Cannes like moment: listening to the desperate pleas of an actor who’d pulled two coked-up models and had no hotel room to take them to.

Overall: I met some nice people, had a nice time and spent a hideous amount of money.

Pretty much par for the course.

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