Motion Pictures of Cannes
Picture this: On a bleak, rainy March afternoon, I’m sitting in Caffe Nero across from Hannah Brueske, my dear friend and the current Editor-in-Chief of our beloved Independent Magazine. Jazz plays softly over the speakers, warm drinks are at our sides (although we were supposed to be saving money…), our computers rest in front of us—this is routine. Only this time, Hannah is on the phone.
I stare at her as each uncontextualized sentence she says places itself into a great, big puzzle in my mind. My eyes widen and a smile forms as I realize what she’s talking about. She hangs up the phone and apologizes, to which I flash her an anticipatory look. Her response: “Wanna go to Cannes?”
Getting to Cannes was a long and far from easy process—a whirlwind of planning and communication. Fast forward two months later to late July. I’ve only just begun unpacking from our rewarding trip, and I’m already sitting on the floor typing away into my phone, suitcases and piles of clothes surrounding me. Fast forward two more months to mid-September; my junior year at Emerson has already begun. But my mind plays the memories of Cannes on repeat: the ocean, the action, the movies, the life. How did everything happen so fast?
During my first evening at Cannes, I traversed the festival grounds. The weather was warm and the sun was setting, enshrouding everything in a golden hue. Cannes is constantly in motion. It’s cliché watching big events on TV and hearing people on screen say, “The energy is so high!” Well, I’m going to hammer it home! The energy was unlike anything else. People, all in beautiful outfits, rushing to screenings, restaurants, and parties, or trying to catch a glimpse of the celebrities posing on the red carpet; others waiting outside of the theaters, holding up clever signs asking for spare tickets to their most anticipated films. The droning of the ocean waves would break intermittently with distant cheers. I wanted nothing more than to capture everything I was seeing. I captured what moved me and carried on.
My entire life, my dreams have felt too big for the life I was born into. My goals often felt out of reach. As a kid gravitating towards the arts, I would constantly draw cartoons in notebooks and choreograph dance routines to 2000s CDs in my basement. During my middle and high school years I became heavily involved in theater and music. Filmmaking found me somewhere along the way. My first camera was a Sony camcorder that I got for Christmas when I was ten years old. I would run around my house and point it at anything I thought looked interesting. All I could think about was shooting and starring in blockbuster films that touch the hearts of millions.
There were people close to me who said that what I wanted in life wasn’t sustainable and would leave me broke and on the streets. There were others who believed in my dreams and my ability to achieve them. Many times doubt overwhelmed my mind, but I always did my best to believe those who lifted me up.
I come from a very low-income household. My family and I never did any traveling when I was growing up. For a long time, the farthest I’d ever traveled from my hometown in upstate New York was to North Carolina to visit my older sister. I was always jealous of my friends who had opportunities to go abroad with their families and have diverse experiences across the globe, only to come back to school and shrug it off as if it was just another average week. I wanted to see the world so badly—and for the world to see me.
At Cannes, for a sliver of time, I lived my childhood dreams. “Home” was the fifth floor of an apartment complex with an ocean view to die for. I spent my evenings on our Airbnb balcony, editing the footage I had taken the day prior into reels.
Being in Cannes was my first time in Europe. Before experiencing it for myself, I didn’t really understand just how old most of it really is. Everything has a distinct, old-fashioned charm to it—shuttered windows line residential streets and greenery creeps down pale yellow walls onto winding brick roads. Apparently, a lot of Europe looks like this! Who knew?
Attending the screenings was the greatest opportunity. The thrill of being able to see a film before the rest of the world, sitting next to some of the industry’s most passionate artists, made me feel like I was on their level. One of my hopes for Cannes was that at least one film would move me to my core. Quite a few did—“My Mom Jayne” by Mariska Hargitay (I sobbed) and “The Plague” by Charlie Polinger were two of my favorites.
I am endlessly grateful to have attended this festival with my dream team. It would not have been the same without them—we all lived, worked and laughed together for just short of a week. Hannah Brueske, Ashley Davis and Casey Miller are some of the most talented journalists and writers I know, and their work leaves me floored time and time again. As a visual artist and someone who usually abstains from writing, they were the ones to remind me: Hey, writing is important, and it’s one of the best forms of human expression. Here’s my attempt at writing something of my own accord. This story found me, and I hope I can make you all proud.
Everything about Cannes, from the fervent atmosphere, the films that touched me, and even the films that left me with more questions than answers, only reinforced what I’ve always known I want to do in this world. I know now that I don’t have to pick a strict path and follow it down a straight line. While predictability is stable, it can be boring and disengaging. I strive for a life that keeps me eager to find out what lies ahead. Going to Cannes affirmed for me that I am on a vast, winding road with various forks, bridges, and mountains along the way. It’s going to take much more effort to reach my destination, but the chance to cover one of the largest film festivals in the world is one of the moments that makes the journey all worth it. This is one of the first times where everything I’ve done up to this point makes sense. All I have to do is keep going.
Cannes, you haven’t seen the last of me.