Carl Rivett's fingers were sore, and his entire body was tense. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, holding his breath.
Three hours earlier, if someone had told him he'd be praying with all his energy for the "Cottright Family" to win Best Director, he'd have thought they were crazy.
But now, that was exactly what he was doing—quietly praying to the universe. He couldn't believe how badly he wanted to hear the name "Cottright Family" called, just to get it over with.
The air froze for a moment.
Then, without building suspense, the answer came through the microphone:
"Gus Van Sant, Elephant."
Carl: …
Nicholas: …
The entire press room was dead silent. The worst possible outcome had happened. Everyone was so shocked they forgot to congratulate Gus Van Sant, standing stiff like children frozen in a game of Red Light, Green Light, too caught up to break free.
No way!
Who could have predicted that the Best Director at this year's Cannes Film Festival wouldn't go to Lars von Trier, Clint Eastwood, or Nuri Bilge Ceylan, but to Gus Van Sant?
Who would have guessed that Bertrand Blier still wouldn't get his award, and the Best Director prize would mysteriously go to Gus Van Sant? What kind of plot twist was this?
Elephant?
A film shot in mock-documentary style, Elephant winning Best Director? That's a tough call.
Even the photographers on the balcony outside the Palais were stunned.
Emmanuel froze, while the photographers around him erupted into curses, confusion, and rage. It was chaos.
Though Emmanuel had never been to hell, this scene seemed close enough.
The entire night had been one shock after another, and now the madness peaked. The Cannes Film Festival reached its wildest point.
It wasn't that Elephant was a bad film. In fact, people preferred it to win over the "Cottright Family." But with Elephant winning, the possibility of the "Cottright Family" taking the Palme d'Or was becoming too real, which was a sobering thought.
People forgot to congratulate Gus Van Sant.
At first, Emmanuel was just as stunned, thoughts racing through his mind. But seeing the scene unfold, he couldn't help but smile.
From the way people were reacting, it looked like half of Cannes was protesting Gus's win with their curses and fury. But only those in the know understood what was really happening.
It was hilarious.
This was absurd. Dark humor at its finest—true Italian comedy.
Meanwhile, inside the Lumière Hall, things were simpler. No time for calculations, no time for worries, no tricks or turns—just pure joy.
"Director!"
"Director!"
"Director! Ahhhh!"
Anson leaped to his feet, raising his arms high in celebration, beaming with joy, completely unreserved in his excitement.
Gus, confused, looked at Anson: Huh?
Anson didn't answer, just smiled brightly, clapping his hands enthusiastically, ignoring the cells dying in his palms. He was giving Gus the best treatment in the simplest way possible.
Alex and Eric were both clueless.
Alex looked around and saw that many of the guests had stood up, so he quickly stood too, moving closer to Anson and asking in surprise:
"…Did we win?"
Anson nodded emphatically, "Yes, we won."
Alex's eyes widened in disbelief. He clapped clumsily, then looked at Eric, and the two of them started jumping and cheering.
No hesitation, no restraint—just pure joy.
It was this unfiltered reaction that showed the innocence of the group.
They weren't actors, just regular students, a bunch of kids. Maybe they didn't even know what award the movie had won, but whatever it was, it was worth celebrating.
This scene didn't escape Nicholas's eyes.
He was overwhelmed with emotion.
Nicholas realized that their obsession with winning had thrown them off balance. Instead of feeling unhappy about the "Cottright Family" winning the Palme d'Or, why not cheer for the work they loved?
The point wasn't the award—it was that Elephant had won.
With that thought, Nicholas felt his mood lighten.
No matter what anyone else thought, for Nicholas, Elephant was the best film at Cannes this year, an undeniable masterpiece. Even if the final results were off, at least it had been recognized.
Wasn't that enough?
It was worth celebrating, worth cheering for.
Nicholas put his fingers in his mouth and whistled in celebration.
"Woo, woo woo woo!"
Carl glanced at Nicholas, then back at the screen showing the Lumière Hall—
Gus, looking a bit shy and awkward, was a beat or two behind in his reactions.
Anson was the first to hug Gus, and Alex and Eric were jumping around Gus, cheering. Gus couldn't help but smile as his lips curled up.
Simple, pure, natural enthusiasm.
Watching this, Carl let out a long breath and started clapping too.
No matter what, Elephant deserved it.
Clap, clap, clap!
The sound grew, building like a tropical storm.
It swept across the hall.
Under the spotlight, Gus took the stage. The shy director looked awkward, clutching the trophy as if it were a lifeline. He fumbled for balance, finally grounding himself a little.
He thanked Cannes, the jury, HBO... After a round of thanks, Gus stood there, paused, then continued:
"This movie started as just a thought, an idea. The fact that it turned into a film and made it to Cannes is thanks to the kids."
"Thanks to them for opening a window and letting us see their everyday lives. They showed us what they're going through, what they're facing—the pressure and violence no one their age should have to bear. This is the world we live in. We may try our best to ignore or deny it, but that's the reality."
"So, thank you to them for their bravery, for reminding us of our own fear and cowardice."
His words were a little dry, a bit hesitant. Clearly, there were many more thoughts in his head he wanted to express. But Gus couldn't find the words.
After a brief pause, he awkwardly raised the trophy and gave a slight nod.
Then, he turned and left the stage.
His acceptance speech wasn't flashy or showy, even a bit plain, but it carried the same emotional impact as his film, which used simple imagery to deliver powerful feelings.
This time, Carl didn't hesitate. He clapped his hands hard, cheering for Gus—
We need filmmakers like this. Directors who use their cameras to capture life and society, beyond fame and fortune.
He turned and saw Nicholas clapping with a big smile on his face.
With a glance exchanged between them, both clapped harder.