Sometimes, there's a feeling that nags at you, like you've forgotten something important but can't figure out what it is no matter how hard you try. You stand there, racking your brain, but nothing comes to mind. That feeling is truly annoying, yet you're helpless against it.
Just like now.
Immanuel felt a bit melancholic. She knew something was off but couldn't pinpoint the reason. She wrestled with her thoughts, but there were no results. Just as she was about to give up, she heard other photographers exclaim:
"What about the Mystic River crew?"
Immanuel gasped, and suddenly, all her thoughts flooded back. The next second, other photographers around her snapped out of their daze too. They had all been distracted by the unexpected red carpet event and had completely forgotten about another important matter.
Where was Clint Eastwood?
Initially, everyone thought the Elephant crew would be the second-to-last to appear, leaving Mystic River as the final one. Given the prestige of the cast, everyone assumed that this would be the big finale of the night. It made sense—considering the star power of the cast, the film seemed destined to claim the top awards.
But now, the event staff were announcing the end of the red carpet?
What does that mean?
…No way.
Elephant was the last crew, and Mystic River hadn't been recalled.
What was going on?
The photographers exchanged bewildered looks, thoughts racing. Immanuel glanced around and saw the same dumbfounded expressions on everyone's faces.
The entire day, there hadn't been any official news about Mystic River being recalled. The journalists had just assumed it would happen based on previous years and the fact that the crew was stationed in Cannes. Plus, Mystic River ranked third in the official magazine, so naturally, they concluded that the jury wouldn't overlook it.
But what if... Mystic River was never meant to be recalled?
So—
That meant that tonight, only five crews were recalled, and these five would compete for seven awards. At least two films would walk away with multiple prizes.
Including The Cotwright Family.
Wow.
Everyone gasped. Their minds went blank.
Patrice Chéreau was stirring the pot—big time.
This was the real Italian absurdist comedy, wasn't it?
As they exchanged glances, no one knew how to react. They needed a moment to process this.
For months, the media had been complaining that the quality of the films in competition was underwhelming. None of them were exceptional, and many were downright awful, making the entire experience unbearable. Critics, distributors, filmmakers—everyone had the same opinion, and even the film market had been sluggish.
Given the poor quality of the lineup, it was admirable that the jury refused to fill all seven slots with mediocre films. They had stuck to their standards. Even if one film won multiple awards, it was better than giving out prizes just for the sake of it. The jury members clearly valued their reputations.
Seven awards, six films—including The Cotwright Family. It didn't seem too bad, and maybe there was even a glimmer of hope.
But now, the situation was different.
Seven awards, five films, and still The Cotwright Family. The entire landscape had shifted, and no combination of winners could ease the anxiety that was building.
No one could laugh anymore.
Looking at it another way, it wasn't just about Mystic River being snubbed. The real shocker was that, even in a lineup of such poor quality, the jury had completely ignored the top-rated films from the official magazine, refusing to recall them or compromise. While the decisions left many scratching their heads, you couldn't help but admire the jury's integrity. They were making a bold statement.
Patrice Chéreau, as the jury president, was truly a French director. He made his opinions clear and refused to budge. If he didn't like something, that was that. His strict approach to art was on full display.
But still—
The Cotwright Family? Was this a joke?
Despite the respect and admiration Chéreau had earned, a sense of dread crept in. If he genuinely liked The Cotwright Family, there was a chance he might award the Palme d'Or to a film that scored 0.3 in the official magazine.
The thought made their stomachs churn. Even the possibility of it had the reporters ready to lose it.
In an instant, the red carpet turned into chaos.
One moment, the media was still buzzing about how well the red carpet scandal had been handled. The next, they were panicking, feeling like their minds were about to explode.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The area outside the Palais des Festivals was like boiling water, bubbling with excitement and noise. It hadn't been this lively during the entire festival.
Immanuel looked around. Amid the shock and confusion, there was something oddly amusing about the situation. This was Cannes, after all. Even the reporters had momentarily set aside their usual sensationalism to focus entirely on the films. Their passion for cinema was on full display. Any small development related to the films caused a massive stir.
Even the photographers weren't immune.
They, too, sincerely wanted to see great films recognized, to nurture the growth of more artistic cinema. Their desire for this was pure and simple.
Yet, Cannes being Cannes... it wasn't the first time they'd seen such a scene.
Controversy, even provocation—this had always been the Cannes way. It was also how the three major European film festivals approached art.
But still... what happened to Mystic River? Did Clint Eastwood really deserve this treatment?
Anyone who truly knows cinema would understand that Clint Eastwood is a classic conservative. His films often carry strong personal messages, quietly expressing his values. The major European festivals, on the other hand, tend to lean more liberal. Despite his many nominations over the years, Clint had never won at one of these festivals.
However, Mystic River was a bit different. Its themes and storytelling diverged from Clint's usual style. The old cowboy, now in his seventies, had softened. He was reflecting on life, on childhood, and this transformation was evident in his direction.
If Dogville was too provocative, too sharp, then surely the gentleness of Mystic River deserved recognition. And if Elephant was recalled, then why not Mystic River or Dogville?
Besides, in yesterday's Directors' Fortnight, Mystic River had won the top prize, the Carrosse d'Or. That was a significant honor.
It was the first time in Clint Eastwood's four visits to Cannes that he had been acknowledged.
And yet, here in the main competition, Mystic River was left out again.
It didn't make sense. It just didn't.
The chatter wouldn't stop.
It wasn't just the red carpet. Inside the press room, the journalists quickly learned the news. After a brief moment of shock, everything started to make sense, but the reality was still hard to accept. Soon, the room was filled with frantic energy.
A single stone had caused a thousand ripples.
Is it okay to swear now?