No don’t get too excited-I won’t be attending this year *weeps. You see being up the duff is not ideal for party going Cannes plus I have writing commitments to get on with (must stop procrastinating and writing this blog, instead) but Cannes is AMAZING.
I’ve been lucky enough to attend three times, having fabulous meetings, partying all night at venues that make Made In Chelsea look shabby, swimming in some of the world’s most beautiful beaches (along with the glitterati rocking our designer swimwear and shades, naturally) and watching some of the best films in the world. Truly. When people ask me if my job as a writer/director is glamorous I’d say for the majority of the time, no, it’s hard work, long hours but then I remember Cannes, Berlin, LA, the Baftas and I suppose in between those 12 hour day shoots (which I love) and the rollercoaster that is trying to get my own projects off the ground while sometimes selling my soul directing shizzle I rather wouldn’t, yes it is glamorous. Heck sharing the red carpet with Scarlett Johannsen can be tough going but someone’s got to do it right…Check out my pic of Marty Scorcese. Kinda made my year standing near him!
Anyway I thought I’d share with you a funny story of when I attended Cannes in 2009 unaware I was pregnant (I was literally a few weeks) although did think it strange I didn’t touch a drop of champs the entire time I was there. Not a slurp.
I also ate three steaks for breakfast on the last day after our charcuterie delicacies went untouched and we had to eat up before our flight home (totes glamorous I know)-and yet still the penny didn’t drop.
The biggest indicator (but yet went unnoticed) was on one of our last days, my film friends and I eloped to the beach (we’d had enough of networking-our jaws were literally burning from all the jabbering and a much needed break was in order)-fun frolicks were then followed by a swanky invite to a party held by Barclays on a yacht but I’d lost my voice.I was simply too tired to speak.
For anyone who knows me, that’s a big deal. Huge. I put it down to a day of unadulterated sun. I ended up fleeing the party and falling fast asleep on the villa sofa before 10pm forgetting I was at the best film festival in the world.
Returning back to the UK, I needed answers-where had my Cannes mojo gone? A pregnancy test revealed where. So off we went, my husband and I,brimming with excitement to our first midwife’s appointment where she revealed my due date…much to the husband’s horror.
“But you were in Cannes when you conceived”.
“Well sweetie, there was that one night with Brad”.
We looked at the dates again, she’d made a mistake.
Phew. Cannes was good but it wasn’t that good.
Funnily enough, my Mum does think Oliver looks a little like Brad Pitt…