2009 may be remembered as a “down year” for the Cannes Film Festival — certainly, some press and industry faces familiar from previous years were nowhere in sight; certainly, celebrity directors like Ang Lee, Pedro Almodovar and Quentin Tarantino showed up with new films that failed to single-handedly rescue the world economy by the end of their first screenings — but isn’t it a down year all around, not just for film but for, like, life on Earth? In a time as stagnant and depressed as this, what can we reasonably expect a film festival to do? Never once in my eight days at the festival did I question whether Cannes does or does not matter. Spending hours each day in Market badge lines composed of Cannes’ equivalent of rabble (myself included — I was standing in those lines because my coverage is not important enough to the Festival to merit press accreditation) the weight of the event doesn’t seem up for debate — you’re literally fighting over seats with too many people to whom Cannes matters to.
Back in New York now, maybe I should have a clearer perspective, but it’s hard. Even as the bigger films failed to meet my expectations, even as Lars Von Trier stomped in like Godzilla, swallowed the press corps whole and left the festival in ruins (and I *liked* Antichrist), even if I went home without seeing anything that matched 2008’s A Christmas Tale or Modern Life as sure-to-endure masterworks international cinema … I’ll still do whatever it takes to go back next year. I spend an awful lot of time covering things out of obligation because they’re perceived to matter to someone; in return, let me be selfish. Let me have Cannes, if for no other reason than because it matters to me.
And with that: after the jump, you’ll find my collected coverage. At right, the one photo I managed to take of “local color” - because even the coffee at Cannes this year came with unneccessary nudity.
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Of the three Hong Sang-soo films I’ve now seen, Like You Know It All is by far the most accessible in terms of its surface-level genre. It’s essentially a comedy, one that taps a vein not dissimilar to the Comedy of Un-comfortability that’s so in fashion Stateside, while maintaining a consciousness about ego and the weakness of best intentions in the face of desire that grounds the humor in something hopelessly sad.
The film plays out in two major sections. Ku, a filmmaker, travels to a suburb to be on the jury at a film festival. He’s the most famous guy in town … until his former lackey-turned-star director shows up and attracts the attention of porn star who wants to launch a legit acting career. Ku habitually drinks by night and sleeps through movies by day. One night, he runs into an old friend, who he comically dismisses as “an alcoholic”, and after the friend claims that his new wife is his “soulmate” and salvation, the two end up drunkenly going back to the friend’s house, where Ku manages to offend the “soulmate” before passing out. Later, Ku travels to an island to present a lecture at a university. He hooks up with his former mentor for another long night of drinking, then meets the mentor’s own “soulmate” wife… who happens to be Ku’s ex-girlfriend. All throughout, Ku sits, usually quietly, while his drunk companions expound on the meaning of life and the restorative powers of love. Like You Know it All ultimately plays out like a spoof of the life of an independent filmmaker, with the festival circuit and speaking gigs as pit stops to both pump up the ego, and force crises of conscience.
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