Amid yacht parties and red carpets, Cannes proves cinema still matters — where art fights commerce and collective dreams refuse to surrender to algorithms.
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I’ve just returned from the 78th Cannes Film Festival, where for 10 days I was immersed in a world that seems increasingly rare in our cultural landscape.
Walking along La Croisette amid the chaos of paparazzi, celebrities in designer finery, champagne-soaked yacht parties, and the endless parade of black SUVs ferrying VIPs between screenings and soirées, I found myself contemplating a paradox: How can something so excessive, so unabashedly elitist, remain so vital to the art of cinema?
The extravagance of Cannes is undeniable. This year, my 14th time at the festival, I witnessed crowds crushing against barricades hoping for a glimpse of Denzel at the premiere of Spike Lee’s Highest 2 Lowest, billionaires hosting lavish parties where celebrities danced until dawn, and fashion houses treating the festival as their personal runway. One night, I stood on the deck of a yacht larger than most apartment buildings, watching fireworks illuminate the Mediterranean while industry power brokers negotiated deals worth millions over vintage champagne.
Yet beneath this glittering spectacle lies something more profound: a celebration of cinema at its most ambitious and a testament to why movies have mattered — and continue to matter — in our cultural consciousness.
Where Dreams and Commerce Dance
The delicate balance between art and commerce has always defined the film industry. There were rare moments in history when these elements achieved a perfect equilibrium — when creative ambition and commercial success danced together like Fred and Ginger. That equilibrium has tilted dramatically in recent decades toward commerce, corporatization, and profit.
Yet Cannes continues to pursue that elusive balance. Yes, it hosts the Marché du Film, one of the busiest film markets in the world, where deals are made and films are bought and sold. But unlike much of contemporary filmmaking driven by demographic research and “audience quadrants,” Cannes regularly celebrates films that take risks, that challenge rather than comfort audiences.
This year, I was struck by the audacity of Julia Ducournau’s Alpha, her follow-up to her Palme d’Or-winning Titane. Set against an AIDS epidemic backdrop, the film provoked walkouts and standing ovations in equal measure — precisely the kind of polarizing, boundary-pushing cinema that struggles to find an audience in today’s market-driven landscape, but that Cannes proudly showcases.
A Global Conversation Through Images
I witnessed audiences deeply moved by Jafar Panahi’s A Simple Accident, a thriller about oppressive regimes, smuggled out of Iran where the director has faced persecution. Hours later, those same viewers laughed through Wes Anderson’s whimsical The Phoenician Scheme, with its all-star cast including Benicio del Toro and Michael Cera. The juxtaposition of these experiences — one profoundly political, the other purely playful — highlighted cinema’s unique capacity to cross cultural boundaries.
The importance of dreams. Walking into the Grand Théâtre Lumière, climbing those famous red steps with thousands of formally attired strangers, I was reminded that movies at their best are dreams — visions that allow us to experience lives, perspectives, and emotions beyond our own.
There’s something powerful about sitting in a darkened theater with strangers, experiencing the same story simultaneously. You’re sharing a dreamlike experience in physical space with other people. That shared dreaming is what Cannes fights to preserve — the idea that cinema remains one of our most powerful tools for fostering empathy and understanding.
Why Movies Matter Less Now, and Why That’s a Loss
As I watched my favorite film at this year’s festival – Richard Linklater’s Nouvelle Vague, his tribute to the French New Wave set in 1959 Paris during the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless – I couldn’t help but reflect on cinema’s diminished cultural significance today. Movies once provided a common language and shared reference points across society. At their best, they didn’t just entertain; they reflected our desires and anxieties, helped us process historical traumas, and expanded our moral imagination.
Today’s fragmented media landscape offers unprecedented choice but fewer shared experiences. People could once look at movies and see something of themselves, even in stories far removed from their personal experience.
The Festival as Sanctuary
Still hung over, the morning after attending a party where celebrities arrived by helicopter to a villa overlooking the sea — a scene of almost comical opulence — I found myself in a small screening room watching La Misteriosa Mirada del Flamenco, a first feature by Chilean director Diego Céspedes. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark, yet this is Cannes at its essence: extreme wealth and glamour existing alongside pure artistic expression.
Cannes still provides a sanctuary for cinema as an art form in a world increasingly indifferent to its creative possibilities. By elevating directors as artists rather than content providers, by valuing originality over familiarity, the festival asserts that movies still matter.
The French have long understood the cultural importance of cinema, fighting for the concept of “cultural exception” in trade agreements to protect their film industry from being treated as just another commodity. Cannes embodies this philosophy, treating films as cultural expressions deserving of protection.
Beyond the Glamour
I watched Scarlett Johansson arrive for the premiere of Eleanor the Great, her directorial debut. The crowd roared as she stepped onto the red carpet in a gown that would dominate fashion headlines the next day. Hours later, in a quiet moment, in a bar tucked away on the Rue d’Antibe, I overheard her discussing the challenges of transitioning from actor to director with a small group of film students invited to the festival.
This is the paradox of Cannes: The glamour that can seem so excessive actually serves a purpose. It draws the world’s attention to cinema at its most ambitious, ensuring that daring artistic visions receive global visibility they might otherwise be denied.
The Persistence of Dreams
I attended a beachside screening of a restored print of Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush, celebrating its 100th anniversary. Watching this silent classic under the stars with hundreds of strangers — some industry veterans, others local residents with no connection to filmmaking — I was reminded of cinema’s unique power to unite us across time and space.
Watching young filmmakers passionately discussing their projects at café tables along La Croisette, I was heartened to see that the drive to create meaningful cinema persists, even as the industry undergoes seismic changes.
For all its flaws and excesses, Cannes matters because it refuses to surrender to the notion that cinema’s golden age lies entirely in the past. It insists, against considerable evidence to the contrary, that moving images remain one of our most powerful tools for understanding ourselves and others, for processing our collective traumas, and for imagining alternative possibilities.
