TORONTO — The smile is beatific, blissed out, even at an ungodly hour on our Zoom call from France. A week later, when I finally meet 43-year old filmmaker Oliver Laxe in person at a private Toronto celebration for his new movie “Sirât,” he radiates serenity. He’s the happiest (and maybe the tallest) person in the room.
“One of the first ideas that I had for this film was a sentence from Nietzsche,” he says. “I won’t believe in a God who doesn’t dance.”
Laxe goes to raves — “free parties,” he clarifies, indicating the ones you need to hear about via word of mouth. He’s thought deeply about what they mean and what they do to him. “We still have a memory in our bodies of these ceremonies that we were doing for thousands of years, when we were making a kind of catharsis with our bodies.”
It’s almost the opposite of what you expect to hear on the fall festival circuit, when directors with big ideas make their cases for the significance of the art form. But the body, the return to something purely sensorial, is Laxe’s big idea.
Steadily, “Sirât” has become, since its debut at Cannes in May, a growing favorite: not merely a critic’s darling but an obsession among those who’ve seen it. (The film will have an awards-qualifying run in Los Angeles beginning Nov. 14.) A dance party in the desert set at some vaguely hinted-at moment of apocalypse, the movie is something you feel, not solve. Its pounding EDM beats rattle pleasurably in your chest (provided the theater’s speakers are up to snuff). And the explosions on the horizon shake your heartbeat.
“I really trust in the capacity of images to penetrate into the metabolism of the spectator,” Laxe says. “I’m like a masseuse. When you watch my films, sometimes you’ll want to kill me or you’ll feel the pain in your body, like: Wow, what a treat. But after, you can feel the result.”
An image from the movie “Sirât,” directed by Oliver Laxe.
(Festival de Cannes)
Laxe can speak about his influences: cosmic epics by the Russian master Andrei Tarkovsky or existential road movies like “Zabriskie Point” and “Two-Lane Blacktop.” But he is not a product of a typical grad-school trajectory. Rather, it’s his escape from that path after growing up in northern Spanish Galicia and studying in Barcelona (he tried London for a while) that’s fascinating.
“I was not good,” he recalls. “I didn’t find I had a place in the industry or in Europe. I was not interested. I had bought a camera, a 16-millimeter Bolex, and I knew I was accepting that my role was to be a kind of sniper that was working in the trenches but making really small films.”
At age 24, Laxe moved to Tangier, Morocco, where he would live for 12 years at a monastic remove from the glamour of the movies, collaborating with local children on his films. The experience would grow into his first feature, 2010’s “You Are All Captains,” which eventually took him all the way to the prize-winning podium at Cannes, as did his second and third films, all of which came before “Sirât,” his fourth.
“Slowly, the things we were making were opening doors,” he says. “In a way, life was deciding, telling me: This is your path.”
Path is what “Sirât” means in Arabic, often with a religious connotation, and his new movie takes a unique journey, traversing from the loose-limbed dancing of its early scenes to a train’s tracks stretching fixedly to the end of the line. There’s also a quest that gets us into the film: a father and son searching among the ravers for a missing daughter, potentially a nod to “The Searchers” or Paul Schrader’s “Hardcore,” but not a plot point that Laxe feels especially interested in expounding on.
“Obviously I have a spiritual path and this path is about celebrating crisis,” he says. “My path was through crisis. It’s the only time when you connect with your essence. I just want to grow. So that’s why I jump into the abyss.”
“My path was through crisis,” says director Oliver Laxe of his steady rise. “It’s the only time when you connect with your essence. I just want to grow.”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Laxe tells me he didn’t spend years perfecting a script or sharpening dialogue. Rather, he took the images that stuck with him — trucks speeding into the dusty desert, fueled by the rumble of their own speaker systems — and brought them to the free parties, where his cast coalesced on the dance floor.
“We were telling them that we were making ‘Mad Max Zero,’ ” he recalls, but also something “more metaphysical, more spiritual. A few of them, I already knew. There are videos of us explaining the film in the middle of the dance floor with all the people dancing around. I mean it was quite crazy. It’s something I would like to show to film schools.”
Shot on grungy Super 16, the production drove deep into craggy, sandblasted wastelands, both in Morocco and mountainous Spain, where the crew would make hairpin turns along winding cliff roads that would give even fans of William Friedkin’s legendary 1977 misadventure “Sorcerer” anxiety.
“It was my least dangerous film,” Laxe counters, reminding me of his “Fire Will Come,” the 2019 arson thriller for which he cast actual firefighters. “We were making the film in the middle of the flames, so I don’t know. I’m a junkie of images and I need this drug.”
There is a Herzogian streak to the bearded Laxe, a prophet-in-the-wilderness boldness that inspires his collaborators, notably longtime writing partner Santiago Fillol and the techno composer Kangding Ray, to make the leap of faith with him. But there also seems to come a point when talking about “Sirât” feels insufficient, as opposed to simply submitting to its pounding soundscapes, found-family camaraderie and (fair warning) churning moments of sudden loss that have shaken even the most hardy of audiences.
“The film evokes this community of wounded people,” he says. “I’m not a sadistic guy that wants to make a spectator suffer. I have a lot of hope. I trust in human beings, even with their contradictions and weaknesses.”
For those who wish to find a political reading in the movie, it’s there for them, a parable about migration and fascism but also the euphoria of a headlong rush into the unknown. “Sirât” is giving odd comfort in a cultural moment of uncertainty, a rare outcome for a low-budget art film.
Its visionary maker knows exactly where he is going next.
“I got the message in Cannes,” Laxe says. “People want to feel the freedom of the filmmaker or the auteur. What they appreciate is that we were jumping from a fifth floor to make this film. So for the next one —”
Our connection cuts out and it’s almost too perfect: a Laxian cliffhanger moment in which ideas are yanked back by a rush of feeling. After several hours of me hoping this was intentional on his part, the director does indeed get back to me, apologetically. But until then, he is well served by the mystery.
The program for the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival came into sharper view with Monday’s announcement of the majority of titles for the event’s galas and special presentations section. Along with TIFF’s news, some of the larger fall festival and awards season is also beginning to take shape.
Toronto, long known as a powerful showcase for launching awards-hungry and commercially ambitious fall titles, has been seen as losing some of its strength in recent years to festivals in Cannes, Venice and Telluride. This year’s TIFF program, which marks its 50th edition, will be closely watched for how its titles are received not only at the festival itself, but in the months ahead.
Among the notable world premieres in Monday’s announcement are Aziz Ansari’s feature directorial debut “Good Fortune,” a comedy of identity-swapping and self-discovery starring Ansari and Seth Rogen with Keanu Reeves as an inept angel, and James Vanderbilt’s “Nuremberg” starring Russell Crowe as imprisoned Nazi Hermann Göring, with Rami Malek as the psychiatrist tasked with interviewing him.
Maude Apatow will make her feature directorial debut with “Poetic License,” starring her mother Leslie Mann alongside Andrew Barth Feldman and Cooper Hoffman. “True Detective” creator Nic Pizzolatto will also make his feature directing bow with “Easy’s Waltz,” a drama of down-on-their-luck entertainers starring Vince Vaughn and Al Pacino.
TIFF will host the world premiere of Bobby Farrelly’s comedy “Driver’s Ed,” starring Kumail Nanjiani, Sam Nivola and Molly Shannon. Alex Winter directs and also appears in the comedy “Adulthood” alongside Josh Gad, Kaya Scodelario and Billie Lourd. David Mackenzie’s crime thriller “Fuze” stars Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Sam Worthington, Theo James and Gugu Mbatha-Raw.
Baz Luhrman will unveil “EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert,” which utilizes previously unseen footage the director discovered while researching his 2022 film “Elvis.” The result is what Luhrman has described as “not specifically a documentary, nor a concert film.”
Saoirse Ronan stars in “Bad Apples,” which is premiering at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.
(Republic Pictures )
Other world premieres include Jonathan Etzler’s “Bad Apples,” starring Saoirse Ronan; David Michôd’s “Christy,” starring Sydney Sweeney as boxer Christy Martin; and Alice Winocour’s fashion world drama “Couture,” starring Angelina Jolie.
At this stage in the season, interpreting how a Toronto title is announced can give some clues as to where it may be popping up beforehand. “International Premiere” can mean a title is also first playing a week earlier at Telluride, while “North American Premiere” can mean something is playing first at Venice. “Canadian Premiere” means it is likely playing both Telluride and Venice (or already premiered at Cannes) before coming to Toronto.
The only title listed as an international premiere is Clint Bentley’s “Train Dreams,” which premiered earlier this year at the Sundance Film Festival.
North American premieres likely headed to Venice include Gus Van Sant’s “Dead Man’s Wire,” starring Bill Skarsgård and Colman Domingo; Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” starring Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi; Mark Jenkin’s “Rose of Nevada,” starring Calum Turner and George MacKay; Mona Fastvold’s “The Testament of Ann Lee,” starring Amanda Seyfried; and Benny Safdie’s “The Smashing Machine,” starring Dwayne Johnson.
Canadian premieres include Edward Berger’s “Ballad of a Small Player” starring Colin Farrell; Jafar Panahi’s Cannes-winning “It Was Just an Accident”; Richard Linklater’s “Nouvelle Vague,” about the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s “Breathless”; Kleber Mendonça Filho’s “The Secret Agent,” which won best actor at Cannes for Wagner Moura; Daniel Roher’s “Tuner,” starring Leo Woodall and Dustin Hoffman; and Joachim Trier’s “Sentimental Value,” starring Stellan Skarsgård and Renate Reinsve.
Michaela Coel, left, and Ian McKellen star in “The Christophers,” which is premiering at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.
(Department M / Butler & Sklar Production)
Toronto’s previously announced titles include the opening night selection “John Candy: I Like Me,” a documentary on the beloved Canadian-born actor, directed by Colin Hanks and produced by Ryan Reynolds, as well as the world premiere of Rian Johnson’s third Benoit Blanc film starring Daniel Craig, “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.”
Other previously announced world premieres include Derek Cianfrance’s “Roofman,” starring Channing Tatum and Kirsten Dunst; Nicholas Hytner’s “The Choral,” starring Ralph Fiennes; Paul Greengrass’ “The Lost Bus,” starring Matthew McConaughey; Hikari’s “Rental Family,” starring Brendan Fraser; Nia DaCosta’s “Hedda,” starring Tessa Thompson; Steven Soderbergh’s “The Christophers,” starring Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel; and Agnieszka Holland’s “Franz,” a biopic of Franz Kafka.
Other titles already announced for TIFF that will be premiering elsewhere include the Canadian premiere of Chloé Zhao’s highly anticipated “Hamnet,” starring Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley; and the North American premiere of Rebecca Zlotowski’s “A Private Life,” starring Jodie Foster, which premiered at Cannes.
More of the Toronto program will be announced in the coming days and weeks, including the Platform section for emerging voices and the popular Midnight Madness section. This year’s Toronto International Film Festival runs from Sept. 4 to 14.
From the start of 2026, ships accommodating more 1,000 guests will be banned from its harbour.
Additionally, there will be a limit of 6,000 passengers per day.
Larger ships are not totally banned from visiting but will have to tender further out at sea.
This is already the case for some of the largest ships now as the port cannot accommodate the largest vessels.
The Cannes city council voted for new limits following similar restrictions in Nice and Villefranche.
“Cannes has become a major cruise ship destination, with real economic benefits. It’s not about banning cruise ships, but about regulating and setting guidelines for their navigation,” said Mayor David Lisnard.
Nice, Venice, Barcelona and Amsterdam are other European cities that have also imposed limits on cruise ships.
The French Riviera resort of Cannes has become the latest famous European destination to join the growing global backlash against overtourism by imposing what its city council calls “drastic regulation” on cruise ships.
Cannes city councillors voted on Friday to introduce new limits on cruise ships in the city’s ports. Starting on January 1, only ships with fewer than 1,000 passengers will be allowed in the port, and a maximum of 6,000 passengers will be allowed to disembark daily. Larger ships will be expected to transfer passengers to smaller boats to enter Cannes.
Two cruise ships were scheduled to dock in Cannes, world-renowned for its film festival, on Sunday, each far larger than the upcoming 1,000-passenger limit with a combined capacity of more than 7,000 people.
“Cannes has become a major cruise ship destination, with real economic benefits. It’s not about banning cruise ships, but about regulating, organizing, setting guidelines for their navigation,” Mayor David Lisnard said in a statement.
Cruise operators have called such restrictions damaging for destinations and for passengers.
The nearby city of Nice announced limits on cruise ships earlier this year as have some other European cities, including Venice, Barcelona and Amsterdam.
France – which drew in 100 million visitors last year, more than any other European country and more than the country’s population – is at the forefront of efforts to balance economic benefits of tourism with environmental concerns while managing burgeoning crowds.
Cannes and Nice are not the only French cities to take action against overtourism.
On Monday in Paris, Louvre workers went on strike to protest “untenable” working conditions, “chronic understaffing” and “unmanageable crowds” caused by overtourism, which they felt the museum’s infrastructure and current staffing levels could no longer manage.
Similar protests have taken place recently in other European cities.
Demonstrations took place this weekend in Venice against Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez’s wedding to highlight wealth inequality and protest against the impact of mass tourism on the city. Activists argued that the lavish three-day event exemplified the disregard for local residents’ needs, including affordable housing and essential services, in a city already struggling with mass tourism and environmental concerns.
Residents of Barcelona took a quirky approach by using water guns in protests against overtourism, aiming to highlight their frustration with how excessive visitor numbers are driving up housing costs, displacing locals and eroding the city’s unique character.
After reading about these California beaches, can you blame me for thinking about the south of France right about now? And, you know, the movies at Cannes this year were pretty good too. In fact, we might have another best picture Oscar winner from the festival.
I’m Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times and host of The Envelope newsletter, which is back in your inbox after a springtime sabbatical. Today, I’m looking at the news out of the Cannes Film Festival, wondering if Neon’s publicity team will be getting any rest this coming awards season.
The Cannes-to-Oscars pipeline is flowing
Last year’s Cannes Film Festival gave us a Demi Moore comeback (“The Substance”), an overstuffed, ambitious movie musical that everyone loved until they didn’t (“Emilia Pérez”) and a freewheeling Cinderella story that became the actual Cinderella story of the 2024-25 awards season (“Anora”).
Sean Baker’s “Anora” became just the fourth film to take the festival’s top prize, the Palme d’Or, and then go on to win the Oscar for best picture. But it had been only five years since Bong Joon Ho’s “Parasite” pulled off that feat, so this would seem to be the direction that the academy is going. As the major Hollywood studios have doubled down on IP, indies like A24 and Neon have stepped up, delivering original, daring films that win the hearts of critics, awards voters and, sometimes, moviegoers.
Neon brought “Anora” to Cannes last year, confident that it would make an ideal launching pad. This year, the studio bought films at the festival — among them the taut, tart revenge thriller “It Was Just an Accident,” from dissident Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi, and the anarchic political thriller “The Secret Agent” from Brazil’s Kleber Mendonça Filho.
Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi holds the Palme d’Or after winning the Cannes Film Festival’s top prize for “It Was Just an Accident.”
(Sameer Al-Doumy / AFP/Getty Images)
“It Was Just an Accident” won the Palme, making it the sixth consecutive time Neon has won the award. Despite being one of the world’s most celebrated and influential filmmakers for movies like “No Bears” and “The White Balloon,” Panahi has never received any recognition at the Oscars. That will change this coming year.
Another movie that might deliver the goods is a title Neon announced at Cannes last year, “Sentimental Value,” an intense family drama that earned a 15-minute standing ovation.
Or was it 17? Or 19? The audience at the Grand Théâtre Lumière might still be standing and applauding; who knows with these Cannes festivalgoers. I’d be long gone, heading to the nearest wine bar. The point is: People love this movie. It won the Grand Prix, Cannes’ second-highest honor.
“Sentimental Value” is a dysfunctional family dramedy focusing on the relationship between a flawed father (the great Stellan Skarsgård) and his actor daughter (Renate Reinsve, extraordinary), two people who are better at their jobs than they are at grappling with their emotions. They’re both sad and lonely, and the film circles a reconciliation, one that’s only possible through their artistic endeavors.
Norwegian director Joachim Trier directed and co-wrote “Sentimental Value,” and it’s his third collaboration with Reinsve, following her debut in the 2011 historical drama “Oslo, August 31st” and the brilliant “The Worst Person in the World,” for which she won Cannes’ best actress prize in 2021. Reinsve somehow failed to make the cut at the Oscars that year, an oversight that will likely be corrected several months from now.
Jennifer Lawrence in Lynne Ramsay’s “Die, My Love.”
(Festival de Cannes)
But it’s not just about the prix
Reinsve could well be joined in the category by a past Oscar winner, Jennifer Lawrence, who elicited rave reviews for her turn as a new mother coping with a raft of feelings after giving birth in Lynne Ramsay’s Cannes competition title “Die, My Love.” Critics have mostly been kind to the film, which Mubi bought at the festival for $24 million.
Just don’t label it a postpartum-depression drama, for which Ramsay pointedly chastised reviewers.
“This whole postpartum thing is just bull—,” she told film critic Elvis Mitchell. “It’s not about that. It’s about a relationship breaking down, it’s about love breaking down, and sex breaking down after having a baby. And it’s also about a creative block.”
However you want to read it, “Die, My Love” looks like a comeback for Lawrence, last seen onscreen two years ago, showing her comic chops in the sweetly raunchy “No Hard Feelings.” Lawrence won the lead actress Oscar for the 2012 film “Silver Linings Playbook” and has been nominated three other times — for “Winter’s Bone,” “American Hustle” and “Joy.”
With Ramsay’s movie, which co-stars Robert Pattinson as her husband, Lawrence may well have printed her return ticket to the ceremony, which would be welcome. The Oscars are always more fun when she’s in the room.
Iranian director Jafar Panahi’s film, It Was Just an Accident, has been awarded the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. The dissident has endured years of travel bans and prison terms in Iran for his filmmaking, which served as inspiration for his award-winning work.
Leave it to Kelly Reichardt, who turned Michelle Williams into a seething sculptor with frenemy issues in “Showing Up,” to make the gentlest, most self-deprecating heist movie imaginable. As such, she’s invented a whole new genre. The year is 1970 but don’t expect anything Scorsesian to go down here. Rather, this one’s about a half-smart art thief (Josh O’Connor, leaning into loser vibes) who, after snatching canvases of a lesser-known modernist from an understaffed Massachusetts museum, suffers grievously as his plan unravels. Reichardt, herself the daughter of law enforcement, is more interested in the aftermath: hypnotically awkward kitchen conversations with disappointed family members who won’t lend him any more money and would rather he just clear out. (The exquisite period-perfect cast includes Alana Haim, Bill Camp, Hope Davis and John Magaro.) Danny Ocean types need not apply, but if you hear skittering jazz music as the soundtrack of desperation, your new favorite comedy is here. — JR
Marking an extraordinary reversal of fortune, including stints in prison and house arrest during years of clandestine work when he was forbidden by authorities from directing, Iran’s Jafar Panahi triumphed at the Cannes Film Festival on Saturday, winning the event’s top award, the Palme d’Or, for “It Was Just an Accident.”
Appearing to bask in the vindication, Panahi clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back seated in sunglasses, savoring the moment while those around him stood in an ovation.
“It Was Just an Accident,” a tense drama of retribution about a torturer’s abduction by his victims, will be released in 2025 on an as-yet-unannounced date by Neon, the distributor that can now claim an unprecedented six-Palme winning streak, after 2019’s “Parasite,” 2021’s “Titane,” 2022’s “Triangle of Sadness,” 2023’s “Anatomy of a Fall” and 2024’s “Anora” all prevailed. (There was no festival held in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic.)
Through a translator, Panahi accepted his award humbly and spoke to the universal impulse to make art. “We don’t know why we do it,” he said. “It’s something I watch my small children do. They sing and dance before they can speak. But it’s another language. It could be a language of unification.”
This year’s Cannes jury was chaired by the veteran French star Juliette Binoche, who deliberated with a group sourced from several countries and disciplines. Jury members included the American actors Halle Berry and Jeremy Strong, India’s Payal Kapadia (director of “All We Imagine as Light”) and Korean filmmaker Hong Sang-soo.
Cannes’ runner-up award, the Grand Prix, went to “Sentimental Value,” a domestic drama about a family of artists directed by Norway’s Joachim Trier, who broke through in 2021 with “The Worst Person in the World,” which earned two Oscar nominations.
The festival’s Jury Prize — essentially third place — was shared by two movies: Oliver Laxe’s “Sirât” and Mascha Schilinski’s “Sound of Falling.” Ties are not unusual in this category; they’ve occurred as recently as 2022 and as far back as 1957, when Cannes honored both Ingmar Berman’s “The Seventh Seal” and Andrzej Wajda’s “Kanał.”
Taking both the directing prize and the award for best actor was Kleber Mendonça Filho’s “The Secret Agent,” a Brazilian crime thriller set in 1977 starring Wagner Maura (“Civil War”). In the hotly contested category of best actress, where on-the-ground predictions varied between Jennifer Lawrence (“Die, My Love), Elle Fanning (“Sentimental Value”) and Zoey Deutch (“Nouvelle Vague”), Nadia Melliti pulled off an upset for her turn in “The Little Sister,” about a French Algerian teen living in Paris and coming out to her Muslim family.
The film is inspired by dissident director Jafar Panahi’s own experience in jail.
An Iranian thriller film that explores corruption and state violence in the country has won the the Palme d’Or, the coveted top prize at the Cannes Film Festival.
It Was Just an Accident, directed by dissident Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi, was crowned at the world-famous festival on Saturday, hours after a power outage briefly threw the event off course.
The festival’s crowd burst into a roaring standing ovation for Panahi, who has endured years of travel bans and prison terms in Iran due to his provocative cinema, often produced in secret. He had been banned from leaving Iran for more than 15 years.
“Art mobilises the creative energy of the most precious, most alive part of us. A force that transforms darkness into forgiveness, hope and new life,” said jury president Juliette Binoche when announcing the award.
On stage, Panahi said what mattered most was the future of his country.
“Let us join forces,” Panahi said. “No one should tell us what kind of clothes we should wear, or what we should or shouldn’t do.”
Director Jafar Panahi, Palme d’Or award winner, shakes hands with director Hasan Hadi, Camera d’Or award winner for the film, The President’s Cake, on stage during the closing ceremony of the 78th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France, May 24 [Benoit Tessier/Reuters]
Partly inspired by Panahi’s own experience in jail, It Was Just An Accident follows a man named Vahid (played by Vahid Mobasseri), who kidnaps a man with a false leg who looks just like the one who tortured him in prison and ruined his life.
Vahid sets out to verify with other prison survivors that it is indeed their torturer, and then decide what to do with him.
Critics have praised the film as a clever, symbolic exploration of justice that blends dark humour with its intense themes.
Iraqi film “The President’s Cake” wins Best First Film
The festival’s Grand Prix, or second prize, was awarded to Joachim Trier’s Norwegian family drama, Sentimental Value, his lauded follow-up to The Worst Person in the World.
Kleber Mendonca Filho’s Brazilian political thriller, The Secret Agent, won two big awards: best director for Fihlo and best actor for Wagner Moura.
The jury prize was split between two films: Oliver Laxe’s desert road trip, Sirat and Mascha Schilinski’s German, generation-spanning drama, Sound of Falling.”
Best actress went to Nadia Melliti for The Little Sister, Hafsia Herzi’s French coming-of-age drama.
Cannes also honoured Hasan Hadi’s The President’s Cake with a best first film award, marking the first time an Iraqi film has won an award at the festival.
Director Hasan Hadi, Camera d’Or award winner for the film, The President’s Cake, and Alice Rohrwacher, president of the Camera d’Or Jury, pose after the closing ceremony of the 78th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France, May 24 [Sarah Meyssonnier/Reuters]
The Cannes closing ceremony took place after a major power outage struck southeastern France on Saturday, knocking out traffic lights and forcing businesses to close along the main shopping street in the Alpes-Maritimes holiday region. Police suspect arson as the cause.
Geopolitical tensions were also a constant backdrop at the festival, with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the genocide in Gaza and US President Donald Trump’s proposal of tariffs on foreign-made films fuelling discussion.
More than 900 actors and filmmakers signed an open letter denouncing the genocide in Gaza, according to the organisers.
A power cut in southern France caused by suspected sabotage has disrupted screenings on the final day of the Cannes Film Festival.
About 160,000 homes in the city of Cannes and surrounding areas lost power early on Saturday, before supply was restored in the afternoon.
Officials said an electricity substation had been set on fire and a pylon at another location damaged.
Organisers of the international film festival say the closing ceremony will go ahead as planned as they have an alternative power supply.
Prosecutors say a first power cut occurred when a substation in the village of Tanneron, which supplies Cannes, was attacked by arsonists in the early hours.
At about 10:00 (08:00 GMT) the legs of an electricity pylon near the town of Villeneuve-Loubet were cut, triggering a second outage.
In Cannes, shops and restaurants struggled to operate.
“Another hour and I’ll throw everything away,” Laurent Aboukrat, who owns Cannes’ Jamin restaurant, told the AFP news agency. He said his fridges had been off since the morning.
“Cannes is in a total slowdown, meltdown, there’s no coffee anywhere, and I think the town has run out of croissants, so this is like crisis territory,” Australian producer Darren Vukasinovic told Reuters news agency.
Several screenings were interrupted by the cut in the morning, before festival organisers were able to switch to private generators.
Saturday is the last day of the festival. French actress Juliette Binoche and her jury are set to announce the winner of the Palme d’Or – the highest prize awarded at the festival.
Major power outage hits the prominent film festival on its closing day and impacts 160,000 homes in the area.
French police were investigating a possible arson attack as being the main cause for a power outage which hit the Alpes-Maritimes region in southern France, including Cannes which is hosting its world-famous annual film festival.
“We are looking into the likelihood of a fire being started deliberately,” a spokesperson for the French national gendarmerie said on Saturday, adding that no arrests had been made at this stage.
The local authority for the Alpes-Maritimes region had said earlier on Saturday that the western part of the area, which includes Cannes, was suffering from a major electricity outage and that grid operator RTE France was working on restoring power.
The outage, which affected 160,000 homes, according to RTE and regional officials, started shortly after 10am local time (08:00 GMT) on Saturday.
Police sources said the outage was caused by an overnight fire, probably an arson attack, at a high-voltage substation in the village of Tanneron.
Traffic lights were knocked out and businesses closed on the main shopping street of the Alpes-Maritimes holiday destination.
A policeman directs traffic following a power outage in southern France, May 24, 2025 [Guillaume Horcajuelo/EPA]
Separate power outages swept across the Iberian Peninsula and parts of southern France on Monday, disrupting critical infrastructure and airport operations. Officials denied foul play.
While Spain and Portugal suffered blackouts last month, the French Basque Country saw brief power outages with interruptions lasting only a few minutes, according to the French electricity transmission network.
The latest outage came just hours before the 78th Cannes Film Festival is due to close on Saturday evening with an award ceremony at the Palais des Festivals.
Despite the power cut, festival organisers said switching to an alternative electricity power supply enabled them to “maintain the events and screenings planned for today in normal conditions, including the closing ceremony”.
After a politically charged two weeks, a jury led by French actor Juliette Binoche is expected to announce the winners among 22 films competing for the Palme d’Or for best film.
This year, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the genocide in Gaza and United States President Donald Trump were the biggest talking points at the festival. More than 900 actors and filmmakers signed an open letter denouncing the genocide in Gaza, according to the organisers.
CANNES, France — You see and hear the films of Scottish-born Lynne Ramsay long after you first take them in. They have a way of burning into your brain. Sometimes it’s a question of immersive soundscapes or settings, as with her brutal 1999 debut “Ratcatcher” or the euphoric post-boyfriend girls’ trip “Morvern Callar.” Elsewhere Ramsay makes violence grippingly personal, as with 2011’s “We Need to Talk About Kevin,” about the dissociating mother of a school shooter, or 2017’s “You Were Never Really Here,” a coiled revenge tale spurred by a kidnapping.
It’s good that we remember these movies so well because Ramsay’s output has never been steady. She’s had some bad luck with turnarounds and fickle producers (notoriously on the projects “The Lovely Bones” and “Jane Got a Gun,” which swallowed up years).
But today, sitting in the sunlight garden of a quiet Cannes hotel blocks from the action, Ramsay smokes and sips coffee contentedly. Her latest movie, “Die, My Love,” a marital psychodrama starring an impressively unhinged Jennifer Lawrence, has just hours earlier been acquired by Mubi, the upstart distributor that released last year’s “The Substance,” in a deal reported at $24 million.
It’s a cheering turn of events for a director who inspires devotion not only from critics and A-listers such as Tilda Swinton and Joaquin Phoenix, but from a generation of young filmmakers who see in her work a defiant, punkish way forward, especially for women in artistic control. We spoke to the 55-year-old Ramsay about her process and making “Die, My Love.”
I was very happy to hear you had a film at Cannes. It’s such a rare thing.
Hopefully less rare now.
So let me ask you directly about that and I hope you take this in the right spirit: Do you wish you’d made more films by now?
Oh, yeah. There was one I was just about to shoot called “Stone Mattress,” based on Margaret Atwood’s novel, a little short story in a novella. We were just about to do that. But the producers were pushing for Iceland as a location — it’s meant to be in the Arctic. I wanted Greenland. It just felt like we were cutting the lines down. The actor, Julianne Moore, would do a couple of lines in one location, fly four hours and do the rest of the scene.
And I just don’t work like that. I can’t do it all broken up in pieces and it’s not good for the actors either. So I was like, I don’t think this is the right thing. And then I was like, maybe I should have just done it. But I’ve written a lot. I’ve got three scripts, one that’s totally ready, one that’s almost ready and then another that’s in development.
I think people really want to know from your point of view: Are you just uncompromising or especially picky?
I don’t know. I was speaking to my friend Jonathan Glazer about that. Everyone says to him, “Why don’t you make many films?”
It was basically 10 years between “Under the Skin” and “The Zone of Interest.” He’s going to disappear now for another 10 years.
I don’t know if he will. We were both talking, like, We’re not getting any younger. We’ve got to hurry up. [Laughs.] But yeah, no, it’s not by design. It’s just life takes over. I have a daughter, there was COVID, stuff nearly gets there and falls through. It’s just a tough industry. I am picky in the sense that if you’re going to stick with a project for two or three years, then you want to know that you’re doing the right one. You don’t want to be down the line with it and think, God, I wish I hadn’t started this.
Jennifer Lawrence in the movie “Die, My Love.”
(Festival de Cannes)
Meanwhile, it must be exciting when a star like Jennifer Lawrence reaches out to you about a film you made 25 years ago, as she did about “Ratcatcher.”
Well, it was funny. She said she wanted to work with me. That was nice. She was talking about this particular book [“Die My Love” by Ariana Harwicz] and I was like: Look, I’ve just done “Kevin.” I don’t want to do more postpartum things and I won’t do that. And then I think I was doing “Stone Mattress” for a while and I probably was just being terrible and didn’t get back for ages.
But then I was like, OK, I have an idea. If it’s a love story — a bonkers, crazy love story — if it’s got many layers to it, I’ll do it as an experiment. We’ll see how it goes. And then it kind of worked.
A postpartum story isn’t the whole picture. Neither is a love story.
Right. I suppose it’s a bit of a lot of things.
I know that you like mashing up genres. Do you still want to make a horror film, like you’ve said in the past?
I’m making a vampire movie.
Really?
Yeah. I can’t tell you much. It’s with Ezra Miller who was in “Kevin.” He’s the main character. That’s in development.
I feel like I may be waiting a while to see that one.
[Laughs] You won’t wait for 10 years. I don’t have 10 years. I’ve got to do it quicker than that. That’s what Jon [Glazer] said. We need to speed up. He’s one of my favorite filmmakers. And PTA as well.
How does it feel being at Cannes again?
Actually, this time I feel quite relaxed. I think the first time I came, I got quite nervous. You get really wound up. My husband was a musician and I remember squeezing his hand so hard at “Kevin,” he said, “You’re going to break my guitar hand.” People were coughing. It was a real Cannes audience — they’re pretty hardcore.
But now I feel quite relaxed because I like the film myself. Sometimes you’re super self-critical. I was watching it in that big theater and I’m going: Change that, change that. We’ve only been editing for four or five months and that’s not long. So we’re still tweaking it. I did a mix in five days.
When you’re working with actors such as Robert Pattinson and Jennifer Lawrence, they bring so much iconography. How do you strip that away and be like, I’ve got this piece of work that I want to do here?
I think they were very willing participants. There was a lot of trust. I try and create an atmosphere of trust and I just threw them into the fire. I did the sex scene on the first day. I thought it’s a risk. It’s either going to work or it’s going to be a disaster. But I could see there was chemistry. And when they arrived, I was getting them dancing. They were dancing together, synchronized. And it was fun. And then I think Robert was a little nervous, but then something just kind of broke the ice.
Doing a sex scene on the first day will break the ice, I imagine.
The first day I was scared. I was like, oh, my God, was this a good idea? But it actually was a good idea. Sometimes I’ve left those scenes for later and then it builds up so everyone’s gotten all nervous. You start this scene and they’re all thinking about it and overthinking it. So I just chucked them in the deep end.
Then there was a different scene, a longer one, and there was loads of dialogue and we only had a few hours — the light was going, maybe an hour-and-a-half left. And I saw the DP lying in the grass, Seamus McGarvey. And we both looked at each other and were like: There’s no way we’re going to finish this scene. There’s no way we can do it.
And we’re both lying in the grass and we look down at the grass and I look at him and I go, “Well, what if they’re like cats in the grass? Why don’t we just do it here?” So I’m running back to the bloody actors and I’m going, “Right, OK, we’re changing the whole scene, taking all the dialogue out. And you’re both cats. You’re both like cats.” And they’re both like, what the f—?
You just discovered that in the moment?
Yeah. Because we didn’t have the time and I’m really glad I did. And they were so trusting. Robert was like, “That was a good scene.” Then Jen went, “Yeah, I can see it.” It was all at breakneck speed. We shot it in an hour or something.
Lynne Ramsay on the set of “Die, My Love.”
(Kimberly French)
And you’re giving them an experience they will never have with a director who follows a plan to the letter.
Yeah. A film’s a film but a script is a script. I mean, it’s a different beast. You’ve got be able to throw things out if they don’t work or you don’t have time. So you go to think of something and often that’s better. But after that first day, I knew they thought, oh, God, what are we in for?
I’ve heard that Jennifer Lawrence was pregnant in real life at the time.
Yeah. I didn’t know that until about four weeks before [the shoot]. I think she was a bit nervous about telling me. I was like, “You OK about this?” I was worried. But she was glowing and was so happy to play crazy. And she was excited by the ideas. She was like, “Yeah, let’s do it.” She’s a punk, man.
Your vision of America is very interesting to me. It’s never super realistic so much as an amplified America from the point of view of someone outside it. What do you think about America these days?
Well, I wouldn’t want to live there right now, but I always loved America. I lived in New York for quite a long time when I was making “You Were Never Really Here,” when I was making “Kevin.” I’ve always loved New York. It’s got a crazy, wild energy. L.A. I find a bit more difficult. I feel it’s like “Mulholland Drive.” But there’s a beauty to it as well. The light is amazing.
Your Montana of “Die, My Love” is also unique, filled with local color but almost an abstract place where a marital unraveling can take center stage. What was important to you to emphasize, setting-wise?
We actually shot in Calgary but Montana’s just down. My backstory was that they lived in New York — he was trying to get in a band, it didn’t really happen for him, he was kind of a slacker. And she’s written a couple of things that got published. Now there’s this idea that they’ll have a new life, because the house is free and a lot of young couples, if they get something like that, they’re like: I moved because New York’s expensive. And then the house becomes its own entity, in a way. We shot the beginning already inside the house, not from the outside [going in], and for a reason: The house is looking at them. There were elements of “The Shining.”
I picked up on those. And when you have actors like Sissy Spacek and Nick Nolte as parents, they create a kind of gravity of their own. Were they familiar with your films like Jennifer Lawrence was?
No, I went to them because they both meant a lot to me growing up. My dad loved Nick. Since “Badlands,” I’ve loved Sissy Spacek, In the book, the mother-in-law’s kind of gone crazy, but she played it much more that she saw exactly what was happening.
When we first meet the main characters, we hear them telling each other the lies they’ve probably been saying for a while: I could really record my album here. You can write your Great American Novel. Do you think that they end up in a place that’s more truthful by the end of the film?
I had writer’s block as well for a while and I was like Jack Torrance in “The Shining” writing the same sentence again. Recutting it. You get stuck in things and then when you’ve got a baby as well, it’s much harder to do anything. Your life completely is turned upside down. So I think they’ve got all these aspirations: It’s going to be great and wow. And then she just feels really isolated and she’s stuck with a baby. And she’s bored and she’s just gone nuts. I suppose I did think about “Repulsion” and, of course “A Women Under the Influence” — that sort of tragedy where they love each other but don’t understand each other.
Do you ever feel trapped by the massive reputation of your early films?
I love when I rewatch them, like, 25 years later. I saw “Morvern Callar” with a young audience a year ago or something. A couple years ago, because the film was 20 years old, and it was really nice. It still played and they were all laughing and they really got it. I think that film was kind of dumped at the time because I think I pissed off the financiers. I wanted a different poster and I made a big deal about it — and I love the poster still. And they wanted something much more conventional.
The poster for that is so perfect, though. I still remember it. It’s flush with a kind of heat, an intimacy.
I kind of fought for that. They wanted something that looked like a Mexican western or something. It was nice. But I’ve still got that poster in my place in Scotland against a black wall, where it really pops. And these kids were really getting it — even though she’s got a Walkman, which is completely, I mean, a million years ago.
It’s a little dated, but it works. You captured something essential about Samantha Morton and now with Jennifer Lawrence too. Do you ever find yourself thinking in terms of awards or Oscars?
No, I gave that up a long time ago. In fact, my mom had all my BAFTAs, so I hadn’t seen those BAFTAs for ages. We were cleaning out her house. I gave all them away.
Were they in her closet or something?
No, she had a little cupboard that she just put them in, but I just kind of forgot about them.
She was proud of you.
Yeah, they were in a little glass cabinet and I forgot all about them. Then I got them back and it was weird.
Where is home? Is it still Scotland?
London, actually. And Scotland. I have a place in Scotland too, but my mom passed away quite recently — it was only a couple of weeks ago. So I had the funeral as well as filming and then it’s been quite a challenge.
Is she the one the film is dedicated to?
Yeah.
“Die, My Love” is very explicitly about motherhood. What do remember about your mother? What did she teach you, in terms of being an artist?
She taught me how to be a filmmaker, to be honest. She taught me to sit. I watched the best films when I was a kid and they thought I was deaf for a long time because I just ignored everybody else. It was a big noisy family. And I think she just showed me these cool films. Her big one was — I mean it sounds so random for me — but she loved “Imitation of Life.” She watched that a million times. “Mildred Pierce.” And “Vertigo.”
She taught you how to give yourself over to a film?
Yeah, she just loved movies and so did my dad. But my dad would be a bit more annoying because he’d tell you the end. He’d be like, “This is going to happen.” You know what I mean? And I’d be like, Dad! I wouldn’t watch it. But I think she was a really interesting smart woman. Not from a film background. They were working-class people, blue-collar people. But they loved images, they loved cinema.
Glasgow is a place of blue-collar intelligentsia. It’s a really good education system there. So my dad was so bright — my mom as well. They used to say, “Let’s go to the movies, the pictures.” Really cute. And my mom had a photographic memory, so she would be like, “This film is from 1940,” blah blah blah. And then this actor’s in it. She’d know all these obscure actors. And it was great. They were excited and it made me excited. She just was a very kind person. Everyone was devastated.
I’m sure you’re still feeling it. I hope you don’t mind me asking about her.
I am. But I’m feeling a bit more at peace. It was quick and it wasn’t expected. And funnily enough, the music supervisor’s mom died one week later. I didn’t know it was coming. So we’re all a bit in shock. My mom, she was 88. She had a life.
When will be the appropriate age for you to show your daughter your movies?
[Laughs] I don’t know, 18?
How old is she now?
She’s 10. Maybe “Ratcatcher.” Maybe about 16 or 15. I don’t know. They’re all kind of hardcore.
You probably made it when you were 25.
I did, somewhere about that or 26. My daughter’s a really bright child. The one thing I’ve shown her that she came in for — I was watching it late at night and she woke up — was “The Shining” and she was glued it. And I said, “I don’t think you should watch this — you’re too young.” But there’s only one killing in “The Shining.” You know what I mean? And there’s not a lot of horror. She loved it. I mean, it was like the best. She said, “I might watch ‘The Shining’ again.” She’s super artistic.
Do I have a promise from you that I’m not going to have to wait 10 years for the next film?
Nah, definitely not. I’m on it. Jon Glazer too. We’re both like, we need to rock and roll, man.
This Coronation Street star turned a few heads after he was spotted at this year’s film festival – not least the hordes of Corrie fans who have yearned for his return to the cobbles
Ryan Prescott made a beeline for this year’s Cannes Film Festival(Image: Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images)
Coronation Street fans were left stunned as one of the soap’s beloved actors swapped the Weatherfield cobbles for the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. Ryan Prescott, who is best known for playing Ryan Connor, was recently spotted on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival.
Despite not revealing why he was attending the star-studded event, fans confessed they’ve “missed” seeing the 36-year-old on their TV screens recently, but agreed he looked fantastic mingling with the celebs. Ryan, who has also had stints in Emmerdale and Doctors, looked incredibly smart in a black suit and bow tie, posing with friends and soaking up the atmosphere of the annual festival, which runs until May 24.
Sharing snaps on Instagram, he simply captioned them: “CANNES FILM FESTIVAL 2025.” Fans were quick to compliment the actor’s appearance after the photos were posted.
One fan commented: “Miss you when you’re not in Corrie but pleased you are having an amazing time,” while another added: “Looks like you are having a great time! You also clean up nice!”
A third chimed in: “Chuffed for you,” while a fourth fan remarked: “Looking dapper my brother.”
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How Ryan managed to secure a spot at the exclusive event remains a mystery. As one would expect, the Cannes Film Festival is typically reserved for film industry professionals and accredited participants.
The festival is now an exclusive affair with restricted access, necessitating a badge for entry, keeping most of the festivities out of reach for the average Joe. This year’s event launched with much fanfare on May 13 and will run this Saturday, drawing in A-listers such as Nicole Kidman and Amal Clooney.
Meanwhile, Ryan’s entrance to Coronation Street came in 2018 when he became the much-loved Ryan Connor, stepping into Sol Heras’s shoes as the third actor to take up the role.
Despite his character’s on-screen drama, Ryan’s off-screen life is seemingly tranquil. The Merseyside-born actor made waves when he appeared in Emmerdale as Flynn Buchanan – Aaron Dingle’s romantic pursuit – before gracing the streets of Weatherfield.
Ryan has now spent seven years at Weatherfield(Image: ITV)
Scoring the part was Ryan’s career milestone, leaving him initially gobsmacked by the limelight, even leading to fans hounding him for autographs post his stint in the ITV soap which lasted for 12 episodes.
Before hitting it big on the cobbles, Ryan secured parts in well-known shows such as Holby City, The Syndicate, Doctors and Casualty. But success didn’t come easy, as he encountered obstacles along the path to fame.
Confirming his Corrie gig opened the floodgates of online vitriol, with Ryan recounting to The Mirror: “I’ve had a few… you always get the occasional Facebook message. There’s always haters out there. Nothing too crazy but people give their opinion.
“Someone will say something like ‘I much preferred the other Ryan’, or something like that. I never reply. That’s where people go wrong.”
Aside from his TV appearances, the actor is quite the globe-trotter, frequently sharing snaps on Instagram from his globetrotting adventures. His passport boasts stamps from Thailand, Amsterdam, Monaco, and a significant part of the United States – yet he always finds his way back to his roots in the north of England.
CANNES, France — “The sun is my mortal enemy,” Ari Aster says, squinting as he sits on the sixth-floor rooftop terrace of Cannes’ Palais des Festivals, where most of the screenings happen. It’s an especially bright afternoon and we take refuge in the shade.
Aster, the 38-year-old filmmaker of “Hereditary” and “Midsommar,” wears a olive-colored suit and baseball cap. He’s already a household name among horror fans and A24’s discerning audiences, but the director is competing at Cannes for the first time with “Eddington,” a paranoid thriller set in a New Mexican town riven by pandemic anxieties. Like a modern-day western, the sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix) spars with the mayor (Pedro Pascal) in tense showdowns while protests over the murder of George Floyd flare on street corners. Too many people cough without their masks on. Conspiracy nuts, mysterious drones and jurisdictional tensions shift the film into something more Pynchonesque and surreal.
In advance of the movie’s July 18 release, “Eddington” has become a proper flash point at Cannes, dividing opinion starkly. Like Aster’s prior feature, 2023’s “Beau Is Afraid,” it continues his expansion into wider psychological territory, signaling a heretofore unexpressed political dimension spurred by recent events, as well as an impulse to explore a different kind of American fear. We sat down with him on Sunday to discuss the movie and its reception.
I remember what it was like in 2018 at Sundance with “Hereditary” and being a part of that first midnight audience where it felt like something special was happening. How does this time feel compared to that?
It feels the same. It’s just nerve-wracking and you feel totally vulnerable and exposed. But it’s exciting. It’s always been a dream to premiere a film in Cannes.
Have you ever been to Cannes before?
No.
So this must feel like living out that dream. How do you think it went on Friday?
I don’t know. How do you feel it went? [Laughs]
I knew you were going to turn it around.
That’s what everybody asks me. Everybody comes up saying [makes a pity face], “How are you feeling? How do you think it went?” And it’s like, I am the least objective person here. I made the film.
I know you’ve heard about those legendary Cannes premieres where audiences have extreme reactions and it feels like the debut of “The Rite of Spring.” Some people are loving it, some people are hating it. Those are the best ones, aren’t they?
Oh, yeah. But again, I don’t really have a picture of what the response is.
Do you read your reviews?
I’ve been staying away while I do press and talk to people. So I can speak to the film.
Makes sense. I felt great love in the room for Joaquin Phoenix, who was rubbing your shoulder during the ovation. Have you talked to the cast and how they think it went, or were they just having a good time?
I think that they’re all really proud of the film. That’s what I know and it’s been nice to be here with them.
Joaquin Phoenix, left, and Pedro Pascal in the movie “Eddington.”
(A24)
In the context of your four features, “Hereditary,” “Midsommar,” “Beau Is Afraid” and now “Eddington,” how easy was “Eddington” to make?
They’re all hard. We’re always trying to stretch our resources as far as they can go, and so they’ve all been just about equally difficult, in different ways.
Is it fair to say that your films have changed since “Hereditary” and “Midsommar” and now they’re more accommodating of a larger swath of sociopolitical material?
I am just following my impulses so I’m not thinking in that way. There’s very little strategy going on. It’s just: What am I interested in? And when I started writing, because I was in a real state of fear and anxiety about what was happening in the country and what was happening in the world, and I wanted to make a film about what it was feeling like.
This was circa what, 2020?
It was in June 2020 that I started writing it. I wanted to make a film about what it feels like to live in a world where nobody agrees about what is happening.
You mean no one agrees what is happening in the sense that we can’t even agree on the facts?
Yes. There’s this social force that has been at the center of mass liberal democracies for a very long time, which is this agreed-upon version of what is real. And of course, we could all argue and have our own opinions, but we all fundamentally agreed about what we were arguing about. And that is something that has been going away. It’s been happening for the last 20 something years. But COVID, for me, felt like when the last link was cut, this old idea of democracy, that it could be sort of a countervailing force against power, tech, finance. That’s gone now completely.
And at that moment it felt like I was kind of in a panic about it. I’m sure that I am probably not alone. And so I wanted to make a film about the environment, not about me. The film is very much about the gulf between politics and policy. Politics is public relations. Policy is things that are actually happening. Real things are happening very quickly, moving very quickly.
I think of “Eddington” as very much a horror film. It’s the horror of free-floating political anxiety. That’s what’s scaring you right now. And we don’t have any kind of control over it.
We have no control and we feel totally powerless and we’re being led by people who do not believe in the future. So we’re living in an atmosphere of total despair.
During the lockdown, I was just sitting on my phone doom-scrolling. Is that what you were doing?
Of course. There was a lot of great energy behind the internet, this idea of: It’s going to bring people together, it’s going to connect them. But of course then finance got involved, as it always does, and whatever that was curdled and was put on another track. It used to be something we went to. You went to your computer at home, you would maybe go to your email. Everything took forever to load. And then with these phones, we began living in cyberspace, so we are living in the internet.
It’s owned us, it’s consumed us and we don’t see it. The really insidious thing about our culture and about this moment is that it’s scary and it’s dangerous and it’s catastrophic and it’s absurd and ridiculous and stupid and impossible to take seriously.
Did that “ridiculous and stupid” part lead you aesthetically to make something that was an extremely dark comedy? I think “Eddington” sometimes plays like a comedy.
Well, I mean there’s something farcical going on. I wanted to make a good western too, and westerns are about the country and the mythology of America and the romance of America. They’re very sentimental. I’m interested in the tension between the idealism of America and the reality of it.
You have your western elements in there, your Gunther’s Pistol Palace and a heavily armed endgame that often recalls “No Country for Old Men.”
You’ve got Joe, who’s a sheriff, who loves his wife and cares about his community. And he’s 50 years old, so he grew up with those ’90s action movies and, at the end, he gets to live through one.
Let’s step backward for a second about where you were and what you were doing around the time you started writing this. You were finishing up “Beau Is Afraid,” right? What was your life like then? You were freaking out and watching the news and starting to write a script. What was that process like for you?
I was New Mexico at the time. I was living in New York in a tiny apartment, but then I had to come back to New Mexico. There was a COVID scare in my family and I wanted to be near family. I was there for a couple months and just wanted to make a film about what the world felt like, what the country felt like.
Were you worried about your own health and safety during that time?
Of course. I’m a hyper-neurotic Jew. I’m always worried about my health.
And also the breakdown of truth. What were the reactions when you first started sharing your script with the people who ended up in your cast? What was Joaquin’s reaction like?
I just remember that he really took to the character and loved Joe and wanted to play him, and that was exciting to me. I loved working with him on “Beau” and I gave him the script hoping that he would want to do it. They all responded really quickly and jumped on. There was just a general excitement and a feeling for the project. I had a friendship with Emily [Emma Stone, whom Aster calls by her birth name] already and now we’re all friends. I really love them as actors and as people. It was a pretty fluid, nice process.
I haven’t seen many significant movies expressly about the pandemic yet. Did it feel like you were breaking new ground?
I don’t think that way, but I was wanting to see some reflection on what was happening.
Even in the seven years since “Hereditary,” do you feel like the business has changed?
Yeah, it is changing. I mean, everything feels like it’s changing. I think about [Marshall] McLuhan and how we’re in a stage right now where we’re moving from one medium to another. The internet has been the prominent, prevailing, dominant medium, and that’s changed the landscape of everything, and we’re moving towards something new. We don’t know what’s coming with AI. It’s also why we’re so nostalgic now about film and 70mm presentations.
Do you ever feel like you got into this business at the last-possible minute?
Definitely. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to make the films I want to make and I feel lucky to have been able to make this film.
There’s a lot of room in “Eddington” for any kind of a viewer to find a mirror of themselves and also be challenged. It doesn’t preach to the converted. Was that an intent of yours?
[Long pause] Sorry, I’m just thinking. I’m just starting to talk about the film. I guess I’m trying to make a film about how we’re all actually in the same situation and how similar we are. Which may be hard to see and I’m not a sociologist. But it was important to me to make a film about the environment.
I was asked recently, Do you have any hope? And I think the answer to that is that I do have hope, but I don’t have confidence.
It’s easy to be cynical.
But I do see that if there is any hope, we have to reengage with each other. And for me, it was important to not judge any of these characters. I’m not judging them. I’m not trying to judge them.
Ari Aster, left, and Pedro Pascal on the set of “Eddington.”
(Richard Foreman)
I love that you have a partner in A24 that is basically letting you go where you need to go as an artist.
They’ve been very supportive. It’s great because I’ve been able to make these films without compromise.
Do you have an idea for your next one?
I’ve got a few ideas. I’m deciding between three.
You can’t give me a taste of anything?
Not yet, no. They’re all different genres and I’m trying to decide what’s right.
Let’s hope we survive to that point. How are you personally, apart from movies?
I’m very worried. I’m very worried and I am really sad about where things are. And otherwise there needs to be another idea. Something new has to happen.
You mean like a new political paradigm or something?
Yeah. The system we’re in is a response to the last system that failed. And the only answer, the only alternative I’m hearing is to go back to that old system. I’ll just say even just the idea of a collective is just a harder thing to imagine. How can that happen? How do we ever come together? Can there be any sort of countervailing force to power? I feel increasingly powerless and impotent. And despairing.
Ari, it’s a beautiful day. It’s hard to be completely cynical about the world when you’re at Cannes and it’s sunny. Even in just 24 hours, “Eddington” has become a conversation film, debated and discussed. Doesn’t it thrill you that you have one of those kind of movies?
That’s what this is supposed to be. And you want people to be talking about it and arguing about it. And I hope it is something that you have to wrestle with and think about.
CANNES, France — In Cannes, the weather changes so fast that you can enter a theater in sandals and exit in desperate need of rain boots and a scarf. On Friday, I ran to my room to grab a warmer shirt for an overcast outdoor party. I checked the window and added a jacket, then checked the window again and was stunned to see the sun. By the time I raced back down the Croisette (in something sleeveless), the cocktail hour was over. C’est la vie.
The mutability is a lovely parallel for the filmgoing itself. At the end of a great movie, you feel like the world has changed. And when a film is bad, the director suffers the shock of their forecast being dramatically upended. Before the premiere, they were chauffeured around in festival-sponsored BMWs and now their friends are stammering how much they like their shoes.
Harris Dickinson, the young British actor who convincingly dominated Nicole Kidman in last year’s “Babygirl,” seemed a tad flustered introducing the premiere of “Urchin,” his directorial debut. Jacket and tieless with his dress shirt’s sleeves rolled up lopsidedly, he hastily joked, “I’m nervous, but I hope you enjoy it — and if you don’t, tell us gently.”
That barometric pressure is especially intense in Cannes, but onscreen (so far, at least), the wind is only blowing one way: south. Almost every film so far has been about a character braving a storm — legal, moral, political, psychological — and getting dashed against the rocks.
Joaquin Phoenix, left, and Pedro Pascal in the movie “Eddington.”
(A24)
“Eddington,” Ari Aster’s twisty and thistly modern-day western, is set in New Mexico during that first hot and crazy summer of the pandemic. To his credit and the audience’s despair, it whacks us right on our bruised memories of that topsy-turvy time when a new alarm sounded every day, from the social-distancing rules of the coronavirus and the murder of George Floyd to the rumors that Antifa was rioting in the streets. With “Hereditary,” Aster made horror trauma hip; now, he’s shifted to satirizing our shared PTSD.
Joaquin Phoenix stars as Joe, a sheriff with a soft heart and mushy judgment, who rejects the mask mandate of Eddington’s ambitious mayor (Pedro Pascal), arguing that COVID isn’t in their tiny rural town. Maybe, maybe not — but it’s clear that viral videos have given him and everyone else brain worms. Joe’s wife (Emma Stone) and mother-in-law (Deirdre O’Connell) are fixated on conspiracies involving everything from child trafficking to the Titanic. Meanwhile, Eddington’s youth activists, mostly white and performative, are doing TikTok dances advertising their passion for James Baldwin while ordering the town’s sole Black deputy (Micheal Ward) to take a knee. No one in “Eddington” speaks the truth. Yet everyone believes what they’re saying.
Phoenix’s Joe watches Henry Fonda movies and wears a symbolic white hat. Yet, he’s pathetic at maintaining order, pasting a misspelled sign on his police car that reads: Your being manipulated. Having lived through May 2020 and all that’s happened since, we wouldn’t trust Aster anyway if he’d pretended a savior could set things right. Still, there’s no empathizing with hapless, clueless Joe when he whines, “Do you really think the power is with the police?”
Well, one person in a Cannes film does: the lead of Dominik Moll’s “Dossier 137,” a single mother named Stéphanie (Léa Drucker), who just so happens to be a cop herself. Once, Stéphanie investigated narcotics. Now, she gathers evidence when her fellow officers are accused of misbehavior. An inspired-by-a-true-story detective movie set in the aftermath of the 2018 Paris demonstrations, the film’s central case involves a squad of undercover officers who allegedly shoot a 20-year-old protestor in the head with a rubber bullet, shattering the front of the boy’s skull.
Moll has made the kind of sinewy procedural that makes your palms sweat. “I have no personal feelings,” Stéphanie insists, even as her ex-husband and his new girlfriend, also police officers, accuse her of being a traitor. More precisely, she allows herself no visible emotions as she questions both the accusers and the accused. It’s impressive to watch the meticulous and dogged Stéphanie put together the pieces and make the liars squirm. But she’s the last person in the movie to see the big picture: No matter how good she is, she can’t be a hero.
Aleksandr Kuznetsov in the movie “Two Prosecutors.”
(Festival de Cannes)
Sergei Loznitsa’s Stalin-era drama “Two Prosecutors” lugs its own protagonist along that exact same journey; it’s affixed to cynicism like a train on a track. Here, the ill-fated idealist is a recent law student (Aleksandr Kuznetsov) who wants to interview a prisoner that the government would rather remain disappeared. The voices that once boldly spoke out against the Soviet regime have long since been silenced. Now, the Great Purge is locking up even the Russians who swear they love their leader.
Methodical and dreary, the film’s key image is of Kuznetsov (who coincidentally-but-on-purpose has a nose that appears to have been busted around) walking down endless dismal hallways. He’s polite and stoic, but we all know he’s not getting anywhere. The film plays like a sour joke with an obvious punchline. I respected it fine, but slow and inevitable don’t make great bedfellows. The jet-lagged stranger next to me nodded off for a nap.
Snores weren’t a problem at “Sirât,” a nail-biter that had its midnight crowd wide awake. The fourth Cannes film by the French-born Spanish director Oliver Laxe, it’s about dirtbag ravers who’ve gathered in a barren stretch of Morocco for a stunning party: orange cliffs, neon lights, thumping EDM beats and dancers thrashing in the dust like the living dead. The only sober attendees are a father (Sergi López) and his young son (Bruno Núñez) who are hoping to find the boy’s sister, a bohemian swept up in the relentless rhythm of this road-tripping bacchanalia. But when the party gets busted up by the police, this fractured family joins a caravan headed in the vague direction of another fest. Next stop, disaster.
An image from the movie “Sirât,” directed by Oliver Laxe.
(Festival de Cannes)
The small ensemble cast looks and feels like they’ve already lived through an apocalypse. Two of his actors are missing limbs and nearly all are flamboyantly tattooed. As these battered vans hurtle through the desert, it’s obvious that “Sirât” believes the age of “Mad Max” has already begun. But Laxe’s cadence of death is nasty and arbitrary and delightful. He’s unconvinced that we can form a community able to survive this harsh world. At best, he’ll give us a coin flip chance of success. I’ve got to watch the film again before I decide whether (a) it’s a comedy and (b) it has anything deeper to say. But a second viewing won’t be a hardship. Even if “Sirât” proves half-empty instead of half-full, witnessing another audience gasp at its mean shocks will be sweet schadenfreude.
Which finally brings us back to Harris Dickinson. His film “Urchin” is good. Great, even. The last time he was in Cannes, it was as the lead in Ruben Östlund’s “Triangle of Sadness,” but he’s a real-deal director. It’s high praise to his acting that I don’t want him quitting his day job just yet.
“Urchin” lopes after a drug-addled boy-man named Mike (Frank Dillane, fantastic) who’s been sleeping and scavenging on the London streets for five years. Yes, Dickinson has gone 21st-century Dickensian; Mike pesters people for ketamine, vodka and spare change like Oliver Twist begged for porridge. But this isn’t a pity piece. “Urchin” is energetic and filled with life: funny asides, tiny joys, stabs of recognition and flourishes of visual psychedelia.
Mike is given multiple chances to change his fortunes. Yet, he’s also stubbornly himself and we spend the running time toggling between being scared for him and being scared of him. Dickinson, who also wrote the film, wants us to know not just how easy it is to slide down the social ladder but what a small step forward looks like, even if his tone is ultimately more Sisyphean than self-help.
After the movie, I ducked into the drizzle, then into a cafe. A man was monologuing to an acquaintance about his career change from tech to film and this is my favorite place to eavesdrop.
“I was rich and successful but I had to look for something more jazzy,” he explained, stabbing at the other person’s plate of charcuterie. He’s now broke, he said, and divorced. But somehow, he seemed content. He’d emailed his script to Quentin Tarantino. Maybe next Cannes, he’ll be the one getting fêted and chauffeured. Maybe the wind would start blowing his way. A great movie really can change your life.
Actory calls on filmmakers to ‘keep telling the stories, keep expressing yourself and keep fighting to be who you are’.
Chilean-American actor Pedro Pascal has called on members of the film industry to “fight back” and keep expressing themselves amid what he appeared to describe as a political climate of fear in the United States.
“F*** the people that try to make you scared. And fight back. This is the perfect way to do so in telling stories. Don’t let them win,” said 50-year-old Pascal, who was at the Cannes film festival for the premiere of “Eddington”.
“Fear is the way that they win, for one. And so keep telling the stories and keep expressing yourself and keep fighting to be who you are,” he said.
“Eddington” stars Pascal as a small-town mayor campaigning against a down-on-his-luck sheriff played by Joaquin Phoenix in a New Mexico town where tensions are simmering over COVID-19 mask policies and the Black Lives Matter protests.
Pascal, known for his role in dystopian video-game adaptation “The Last of Us”, added that it was “far too intimidating” for him to address a question about US President Donald Trump’s immigration policy.
“It’s very scary for an actor participating in a movie to sort of speak to issues like this,” he said.
“I’m an immigrant. My parents are refugees from Chile. We fled a dictatorship, and I was privileged enough to grow up in the US after asylum in Denmark … I stand by those protections,” the 50-year-old told a news conference in Cannes.
Trump has launched a crackdown on irregular immigration and has also detained and moved to deport a number of legal permanent US residents, his policies triggering a rash of lawsuits and protests.
Trump has made himself one of the main talking points in Cannes this week after announcing on May 5 that he wanted 100 percent tariffs on movies “produced in foreign lands“.
Acting legend Robert de Niro, who accepted a Cannes lifetime achievement award on Tuesday, also urged an audience of A-list directors and actors to resist “America’s philistine president”.
Palestinian photojournalist Fatma Hassouna was killed the day after she learned a film about her life in Gaza would be shown at the Cannes Film Festival. Al Jazeera’s Hind Toussiate spoke with the director of the film, Sepideh Farsi.
CANNES, France — Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt arrived in France in 1996’s “Mission: Impossible” clinging to a high speed train through the Chunnel, pursued and nearly skewered by a helicopter. It was, as the French might say, une entrée dramatique. In 2018’s “Mission: Impossible — Fallout,” he leapt from an airplane to plummet four-and-a-half miles down to the glass roof of Paris’ Grand Palais and now, for the big finale of his franchise, “Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning,” he’s come to conquer the Cannes Film Festival.
One boisterous fan outside the premiere shoved her Chihuahua at Cruise so he could see it was wearing a pink sweatshirt with his face. Another brandished a DVD of 2000’s “Mission: Impossible 2,” arguably the worst entry in the series. Cruise took a photo with her anyway. “Le selfie!” the red-carpet announcer cried.
The series hasn’t been kind to its French actors: Emmanuelle Béart was shot, Jean Reno blown up by exploding chewing gum, Léa Seydoux kicked out of a window at the Burj Khalifa. (Pom Klementieff, whose character’s name is Paris, has survived to co-star in this eighth entry.) Yet, you didn’t have to parler français to glean the excitement on the ground.
This is only Cruise’s third trip to Cannes and it took him nearly half an hour to walk the 60 yards of red carpet, an exhausting amount of waving, even for someone lauded for his cardio. He took care to acknowledge everyone who’d come to cheer, even trotting back down a few steps to make eye contact and thump on his heart for the fans in the corner flank.
In 2022, as part of the lead-up to “Top Gun: Maverick,” the blockbuster that would defibrillate the pandemic box office, Cruise received an honorary Palme d’Or and a salute from eight zipping French jets. During his first visit, for 1992’s “Far and Away,” times were different and he felt free to be outspoken, telling the press that the then-recent Rodney King verdict “sickened me.” Today, he seems to feel the weight of championing the theatrical experience, just as Ethan Hunt is repeatedly forced to shoulder the burden of saving the world. Neither of them truly has the freedom to “choose to accept it.” More than any of his movie star peers, Cruise seems aware that someone has to symbolize an increasingly bygone era of filmmaking, to be this century’s Charlie Chaplin.
The vibe before the screening of “Final Reckoning” was a bit bar mitzvah. The DJ alternated between dance-floor classics — Kool & the Gang, Joan Jett — and remixes of Lalo Schifrin’s pulsating “Mission: Impossible” theme, one by four beatboxers who mimicked police sirens, another classed-up by a live saxophone and violins. This year’s big Cannes fashion headline is that women are no longer allowed to wear “voluminous” frocks on the steps. Nevertheless, Hayley Atwell, who plays Grace, a pickpocket-turned-secret-agent, wore a gown on the daring end of puffy. Red with large flares at her hips and ankles, she resembled the vintage biplane Cruise dangles from in the film. He could have clung onto her elbow for a teaser.
But when the movie started, the mood turned funereal. This farewell to Ethan Hunt begins with a three-decade-spanning montage of Cruise that could double as the intro to his inevitable honorary Oscar. “I want to thank you for a lifetime of unrelenting and devoted service,” Angela Bassett’s President Erika Sloane tells Ethan in the opening minute. Later, she slips him a code with an important date — May 22, 1996 — which also happens be the day the “Mission: Impossible” franchise launched. The whole film is a panegyric: big speeches and weighty moments with very little sense of play. Tonally, it starts with an ending and keeps on ending for the next 2 hours and 49 minutes.
The eight “Mission” films can be cleaved into two groups. The first four made a point of swapping directors and moods and even Ethan’s core identity: Brian De Palma made him a jaundiced naif; John Woo, a hot-blooded flirt; J.J. Abrams, a devoted husband; Brad Bird, a near-mute human cartoon. The last four are all helmed by Christopher McQuarrie (who’s co-written this script with Erik Jendresen) but neither has added much to his personality. We’re told, over and over, that Ethan is a gambler and a rule-breaker — and paradoxically, that he’s the only human worthy of our trust, an odd thing to say about a spy who wears masks of other people’s faces like party hats.
Of all the “Mission: Impossible” films, this is the only one that needs you to remember what happened in the previous entry, 2023’s “Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One,” which introduced an all-knowing AI villain called the Entity and its equally unemotional minion Gabriel (Esai Morales) that made a fun foil for Cruise himself, as a sinister duo that values digital trickery over human sweat. Now, the Entity intends to annihilate humanity in four days unless it can be taken offline by a key that accesses a gizmo in the Arctic Sea that connects to a whatsit that Ving Rhames’s weary Luther is attempting to invent from a makeshift hospital bed somewhere in the subway tunnels of London. A grunting Cruise batters a goon while huffing, “You spend! Too much time! On the internet!”
That last film managed to introduce Atwell’s Grace and collect the key while still enjoying a sense of play, like an axle-cracking Fiat chase through Rome and flirtations manifested via close-up magic. Here, the plot weighs everything down. Not just the threat-of-extinction stuff, which includes Bassett’s POTUS debating which American city to blow up as a preemptive gesture, but by its own irritating God’s-eye omniscience that rarely allows the suspense to spool out in the present. The editing is always cutting to the past or the future. There’s flashbacks to things that happened five minutes earlier and flash-forwards to how a stunt could look instead of just getting on with it.
Just as exhausting is how the entire cast trades lines of exposition to explain Ethan’s daredevil feats before he actually does them. There are almost no conversations, only premonitions and plans delivered in bullet-points like a group research project. No one steps on anyone else’s dramatic pauses. They may as well be reciting how to build an IKEA Billy bookcase. I can’t think of anything more thrill-stifling, even with cinematographer Fraser Taggart lighting everybody’s eyeballs to look so shiny that the actors continually appear on the verge of tears. Still, even within those limitations, Simon Pegg is delightful as Hunt’s longtime tech-whiz teammate Benji, as are new and returning ensemble members Tramell Tillman, Lucy Tulugarjuk and Rolf Saxon, the latter of whom plays a throwback character once threatened with manning a radar tower in Alaska — a punishment that did, in fact, come to pass.
But Cruise is reason audiences will, and should, see “Final Reckoning” on a large and loud screen. His Ethan continues to survive things he shouldn’t. (One too-miraculous rescue attempts to distract us from asking questions by inserting an out-of-place close-up of Atwell’s heaving bosom.) Yet, what I’ve most come to appreciate about Ethan is that he doesn’t try to play the unflappable hero. Clinging to the chassis of an airplane with the wind plastering his hair to his forehead and oscillating his gums like bulldog in a convertible, he is, in fact, exceedingly flapped.
The flight chase is fantastic. It’s what Isaac Newton might have made if he’d demonstrated velocity by placing an apple in a bucket and whipping it in circles. But even its exhilaration gets bested by a centerpiece underwater sequence in which Cruise scuba dives alone in silence suffering stunts that you cannot believe. I couldn’t tell you how long he swam — at some point, my heart stopped — but there are images of vertical sheets of water and the star in shivering, fetal isolation that felt like the franchise wasn’t just trying to top itself, but hoping to best “Titanic” and “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
As the sound design rumbled with queasy creaks over shots of a submarine teetering on the edge of a deep-sea cliff, I found myself thinking most of all of that famous sequence of a frozen shack sliding off a cliff in Charlie Chaplin’s 1925 “The Gold Rush,” which celebrates its centennial anniversary this fall. By coincidence or grand design, a gorgeously restored “The Gold Rush” was also the first movie screened at this year’s Cannes. If there’s a Cannes in 2125, maybe it’ll play a 100-year-old Tom Cruise classic. It won’t be this “Mission: Impossible” over the first, third or fourth. Regardless, I bet the fans will still be cheering.
‘Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning’
Rated: PG-13, for sequences of strong violence and action, bloody images, and brief language
