Cannes Press Club

PRESS CLUB

PRESS CLUBS

The Cannes Press Club

THE LA PRESS CLUB

RESOURCES

BONOBO

LODGING & PROPERTIES

PRESS LODGINGS

TOURISM

CANNES FOOD & DRINK

THE VANILLA CAFE

QUAY'S IRISH PUB

EL TEATRO CABARET
& RESTAURANT

EQUIPMENT

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CANNES PRESS CLUB SOIRÉE FOREPLAY

The Lady Liberty, unofficial Cannes Press Club yacht

We were opening the Cannes Press Club for all of them, for all of us. And, despite our terribly opinionated selves, we were determined not to let the club get tied up by any particular political views, except (of course) freedom of the press. Nevertheless, we had to get off our high horse for just a moment to pick a spot for our new Cannes Press Club to meet and drink. Since the Irish are known for good journalism, heavy drinking and speaking something like English, we decided to hold our first Soirée at our beloved Cannes watering hole, Quay's Irish Pub. Also, for reasons probably having to do with its soggy weather and strict mores, Ireland seems to have lost an inordinate number of its kin to Cannes, including our Director Dèirdre.

We settled on soirée logistics with Matt (remember Matt, the intrepid Anglo who won the "Find Osama" contest at our "Art Bombs" opening at El Teatro?) and our other bartender buddies at Quay's over a round of Guinness. Then we set about the important business of inviting people. Invitations were designed by Max the Bot-ler and printed up for distribution by Thierry the Artist among "beautiful women, important-looking men and people who look like journalists."

Aspiring Model Sarah Mooney... Photo: Suzy..................... With Matt & Kit ... Photo: Max

You could tell the journalists by their badges, if you looked carefully and had the mind of a German librarian. There were approximately 4000 accredited journalists scurrying around the festival, each of whom sported one of about 50 kinds of badges, all of whom seemed to be treated by the film publicists and festival officials (we called them "Cannes Information Ministers") with varying gradations of contempt, except for the highest level (pink with gold speckles--or was it gold with pink stripes?) who had to bear the simmering resentment and occasional sabotage of their peers with lowlier badge colors.

Speaking of which, while I was there at the Cannes Film Festival, I thought I'd take in a few of the films in competition. This proved to be trickier than I'd imagined. Apparently because I do most of my film reviewing on-line, deemed lowliest of the lowly by the sages of the Festival Publicity Department (and perhaps too, though this could never be confirmed, because I happen to be a notorious sex educator), I was cordially denied official Film Festival press credentials.

I tried not to let this immense handicap impede my pleasures nor my efforts to launch the Press Club in style. The first night of the Festival, we dashed off to the Majestic Hotel bar, where international stars rub shoulders with local masseuses who will often rub their shoulders.

Masseuse at play and Dr. Suzy with renowned film translator Monsieur Le Pini at the Majestic Bar

We flew past the massive security (bomb threats, anyone?) with Patrick, a Man About Cannes from where else but Ireland, and with every form of Festival pass the gendarmes could desire. Inside the ornately appointed Majestic, we sipped champagne with star-watchers and rubbers, a few odd producers, screenwriters, translators and of course, journalists, as well as that notorious Majestic regular, especially around Festival time, Imogene Diamond, one of the first James Bond Girls, carrying her little dog like a handbag.

Majestic Feet and Faces: Max, Patrick, Nicole, Richard, Lorenzo Dumani, Monsieur Pini, Penelope Cruz, Imogene Diamond and dog

After a not-so-stellar opening film, a remake of an old French movie that was said to be pretty middling to begin with, "Fanfan La Tulipe," starring Penelope Cruz in this latest incarnation, it seemed the Cannes Press Club Soirée would be the hottest ticket in town.

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