Last day in Cannes was actually yesterday but didn't get time to post on the blog as me, Tim and Suki lived it large trying to get to as many screenings as possible.
In the morning, I had my first taste of the Palais red carpet, with Tim, as we sauntered up for the morning screening of United 93, Paul Greengrass's film of the doomed flight on Sept 11, and we said a quick hello to Chief Officer Bevan of Working Title along the way.
It was exciting being on the red carpet and Willem Defoe (small! tiny!) was there soaking up the attention. Afterwards, Willem was still strutting his stuff, this time for an Official Selection flick, and myself and Suki went in to check it out. It was called Colossal Youth (I think) but it was a colossal load of rubbish and I fell asleep in a cinema for the very first time in my life.
Yes, it could have been over-tiredness from the hectic week but the film seemed to consist of long dark scenes in a fixed camera position which was enough for me to start snoring. Suki was doing the trademark head-jerk sleep when someone woke us both up as she left the cinema, presumably out of boredom. So we quickly followed her and saw a reasonably passable UK low-budget flick but we came in half-way through so it was difficult to judge. Tim liked it. Although he also liked Material Girls so we're not relying on his expert taste.
Dinner and drinks ensued, and a cheerful recount of the week's events. A terrible sore throat kicked in at around midnight and now I type this from the comfort of my own home feeling like death. The weather's miserable here compared to the south of France and I've got a flu coming on. Great.
I was with an exec from Working Title on the plane, who's just about to assess one of my scripts for consideration, so that was a coincidence. Also an agent from William Morris, who was very nice.
So that's it. Cannes over. Normal service to be resumed next week. Where's my bed?