Haynes HIS Way: The touch, the feel, of Dylan

He’s been spinning through awards season like a rolling stone, but director Todd Haynes left the Hollywood hoopla for Paris, France to present his critically acclaimed Dylan biopic “I’m Not There.” The Dylan biopic, which recently nabbed four 2008 Independent Spirit Award nominations, will screen as part of a retrospective of Haynes’ work during independent film festival Les Rencontres Cinematographiques organized by the city’s Forum des Images. (and during which, yours truly is a member of the prestigious Jury) Haynes sat down with me to talk about the film’s success, working with an A-list cast and how to get Bob Dylan drunk enough to finally sit down and watch his movie.

“I’m never reluctant to come to Paris,” Haynes said, wearing a sweater and jeans and sipping un café in a boutique hotel in Paris’ très chic Le Marais district. He looked very relaxed for a man whose film may quite possibly be in the running for every major prize as awards season gets underway.
But let’s cut to the chase, the question we’ve all been waiting for … drum roll please… will the film’s most buzzed about star Cate Blanchett, be nominated in the “Best Actress” or “Best Supporting Actress” category should she be nominated for an Academy Award? “I really don’t know,” Haynes said. Oh, come on Todd, stop playing it “Safe” (that was a reference to the helmer’s 1995 film of course) – give us the scoop! “A campaign for Cate in the ‘Best Actress’ category would bring a lot of attention to the film as a whole,” he explained, but, based on the film’s recent success, “That’s not necessary.” “I’m proud of the performance no matter how it’s categorized,” Haynes said. While some may say that Cate has “outgrown the supporting actress category,” Haynes told me: “It’s Cate Blanchett. She’ll always be someone of note and it’s all good for the film,”
Haynes also emphasized the fact that “I’m Not There” “is really an ensemble piece” but added that he’s not surprised Blanchett’s performance has been highlighted: “Jude is the central performance in my film. It’s Dylan’s star turn, Dylan’s electric period. He’s the most famous of all the Dylans in the movie. And Cate Blanchett is extraordinary in the role.”
However, Haynes added: “I’m so proud of all the actors in the film.” Including – bien sur! – Gallic actress Charlotte Gainsbourg who plays Dylan’s wife Claire in the film. “Charlotte was the only actor I thought of while writing the script,” Haynes said of the “composite character, who is really a mix of several women.” But was the half-anglophone daughter of Jane Birkin who speaks perfect English “French” enough for the role? “I wanted her to be more French,” Dylan admitted, “I told her to put on the French accent.”
Gainsbourg is a big star in her native country, not unlike the other members of the A-list cast – Heath Ledger, Julianne Moore, Richard Gere and co. So how did these big stars feel about not being alone in the spotlight for a change? “They’re all big stars but they were all up for the challenge of such an unprecedented, experimental approach to a film. They all jumped in whole, they were all just so with me. They’re all true artists,” Haynes said. Not to mention, “These actors all worked for nothing. They basically paid me to be in the movie,” Haynes added, laughing.
While filming went smoothly, Haynes said that money to fund such an ambitious project wasn’t exactly “blowin’ in the wind. “American films over the past few years – specifically those made by the major studios – have been fairly risk-averse. It’s hard to get things like this financed,” he said. “Audiences really are more sophisticated than we give them credit for. If you give them crap, they’ll eat crap. But this film has really covered a whole range of venues and audiences.”
However, despite the wide critical acclaim and strong box office stateside, the iconic musical legend and subject of Haynes’ film has yet to see the finished work. “Hopefully he’ll see the film. But it’s hard to be Bob Dylan and sit and look at yourself everywhere. He’s always kind of on the run from himself. I hope he’ll be able to sense a lightness and sense of humor the film has, not just the over-worship he’s used to.”
Haynes laughed. “I don’t know if it’ll take an Oscar or just a couple of brandies to get him to watch it.”


Culinary genius of the day: Pierre Hermé



I always thought ambrosia – the Greek “nectar of the gods” – was a myth. How could anything possibly taste so scintillatingly delicious? It had to have been just a page from Zeus’ book of lies. And then I wandered into Pierre Herme, tasted his famous macarons and had what can only be described as a culinary orgasm. Yes, I admit. I’ve lived in Paris for over three years and just tried Pierre Herme macarons a few days ago. Why, you may ask? Because I have been loyal to La Durée and couldn’t possibly imagine anything better. They say you always remember your first time, and I certainly do. It was a cold winter night and I will never forget wrapping my lips around that hard …. cookie shell and decadently soft filling. It was a “green tea and chesnut”-flavored macaron, a brassy gold on the outside and a green circle surrounded by light brown chesnut filling around it. It was a cacophony of flavors entertaining my tongue and waking up my taste buds. I had to do it again. I tried “vanilla and olive oil” – ostensibly a horrible combo, but actually quite good – and rose-flavored, which made La Durée’s version of the flower-flavored cookie taste far less blooming. And those are just the macarons… The desserts themselves look almost too beautiful to eat. I said, ALMOST. The vanilla millefeuille is just that – “one thousand sheets” of pastry goodness filled with a light yet amazingly flavorful vanilla cream. Pierre’s (yes, Pierre – I feel we should be on a first-name basis, don’t you?) desserts are, as we used to describe my grandmother’s matzoh ball soup “so light and fluffy,” They are calorie-ridden sins disguised as light bites from heaven. Try a bite-sized or full-sized macaron, some of the pastry master’s famous chocolates, millefeuilles or perhaps even an “ispahan” – featuring rose-flavored macarons, cream of rose petals, whole raspberries and litchi – and you will not be sorry, I promise. And, if I thought my neighbor hood was “dangerous” before (see: hundreds of fabulous boutiques tempting me at every turn), with a shop on the rue Bonaparte, my life – or more specifically my health – and wallet – Herme’s treats aren’t exactly a steal – are at risk.

Quote of the Day (or “Why Gertrude Stein is my hero”):
““It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.”
-Gertrude Stein

What do Tom Cruise, George Bush and I have in common?

Not much actually (well, Tom's high school guidance counselor was my high school chemistry teacher and come on, who hasn't sung "Old Time Rock and Roll" in only a tshirt? But I think the similarities end there.) However, Tom, George and I are all featured in this video clip from TPS' "StarMag" about the recent Hollywood "franchise" of Iraq war movies:

Les films Post-11 Septembre aux USA
Uploaded by Murarotto

French Literary Snobs, Princesses and Pumpkins

La Fleur à la Flore






Nov. 7, 2007. It was the epitome of the French hipster chic intellectual Parisian literary and media snob scene. Lanky girls with bangs and flowy dresses mixing funky music on stage as Gallic author/ modern-day dandy Frederic Beigbeder slammed prose by Proust and chic men and women smoking cigarettes, sipping champagne and snacking on mini croque-monsieurs shook their moves (or lack thereof) on the dance floor of the legendary hub of international intellectuals, the Café de Flore. This image is immortalized every year at the annual Prix de Flore, a French literary prize founded in 1994 which aims to reward young writers judged by a panel of prestigious writers and journalists. The nominated books must be written in French, but the author doesn’t have to be French (there’s hope for moi just yet!) The winner gets not only the respect of everyone in the room, but also a free glass of Pouilly-Fumé at the Café de Flore for all eternity (or at least until death do him or her part) and 6,100 euros. This year, Belgian author Amélie Nothomb took the coveted prize for her 16th novel in 16 years “Ni d’Eve, ni d’Adam” (in English: “Neither Eve nor Adam”) about a young woman in her early 20s who has a relationship with a young Japanese man. Justice was certainly served for the occasion – no, I haven’t actually read Nothomb’s book, but – literally – Justice was there! The Gallic electro house duo made a surprise appearance! Apparently they ARE our friends! (that was a reference to their hit club tune “We Are Your Friends” for all of you allergic to the club scene.) Journalist and writer Nicolas Rey told the crowd “I am a writer who doesn’t write, it’s better that way.” The lovely waiters of the Flore made sure that no champagne glass went unfilled the entire night (or mine at least!) and I think I may have broken the world record for most mini croque-monsieurs consumed in a 3-hour period. (Unfortunately, I get neither 6100 euros nor unlimited Pouilly-Fumé for such a feat.) But a good time was had by all (and by “all” I of course mean modern French literary talents and a few TV personalities sprinkled among the mostly Germanopratin crowd.) So “Neither Eve, nor Adam” were there, but it was definitely a sinful evening nonetheless.

Movie of the Week: ENCHANTED



An appropriate title for Disney’s latest cinematic voyage into the land of happily ever afters because I truly was “enchanted.”
The story is this: “Once Upon a Time…” (like the film’s French title “Il était une fois…) a princess who believes in true love and a perfect cookie cutter prince charming who really exists somewhere out there is banished to New York City by an evil queen and meets a real man. But can her storybox view of romance survive in the real world? I know what you’re thinking – Disney stole my life story and made a movie about it, right? Well I’m not aware of any evil queens (although a few French girls I know certainly fit that description), that’s pretty much the situation over here in a nutshell (no this is the situation over here in a nutshell – help, I’m in a nutshell. How did I get in this nutshell? What a shell for a nut! Apologies for the poor Austin Powers reference). The princess who believes in true love (me of course.) …the perfect cookie cutter prince charming (haven’t quite cast this one in the giant film of my life but I’m thinking along the lines of Louis Garrel or Andy Gillet – thoughts?)…the real man (well of course there aren’t any of THOSE in Paris, France and Dr McDreamy is already taken in the Disney version so that leave limited options here)…and the big city (Paris) filled with cynical people (Parisians) who don’t believe in the power of true love. But enough about me…”Enchanted” is enchanting. It’s all the magic of Walt Disney catapulted into modern day New York. There are singing forest creatures, wicked witches, prince charmings on horseback and poisonous apples but in this version, there are also rats and cockroaches, bitchy businesswomen, divorce lawyers and pizza. Amy Adams plays the naïve Giselle whose whiny voice finds a perfect home in Disney animation and Patrick “Dr. McDreamy” Dempsey her knight in shining…divorce lawyer armor. The story is completely implausible and ridiculous – be prepared to evoke those wild imaginations of yours – but also absolutely enjoyable and entertaining as well. It’s a film for children – Disney movies were all so scary when I was young, but this film definitely earns its PG rating – and for parents (and any childless adults lucky enough to have an excuse to go and see it such as yours truly). The humor is simple and unpretentious, yet also subtle and witty at the same time. It’s a movie for every princess who still believes her prince charming is out there somewhere- even if, as Giselle discovers, he may not necessarily be the perfect cookie cutter, sword-bearing knight on horseback she’s envisioned since childhood. After seeing so many important yet disconcerting films about the war in Iraq this season, thank you Disney for reminding me of the power of true love and happily ever afters.

While we're on the topic of princesses and pumpkins...

Meal of the week: THANKSGIVING DINNER




Roast turkey. Gravy. Stuffing. (Three different kinds of) sweet potatoes. Corn Bread. Cranberry sauce. Broccolini. Asparagus and beets. Butternut squash soup with toasted pecans and gruyere. Cranberry bread. Pumpkin seed bread. Pumpkin cake. Pumpkin pie. Pecan pie. Apple crisp. Toffee cake. Whipped cream. All topped off by my entire extended family. Vive les pilgrims!

Quote of the day:
“To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write.”
-Gertrude Stein

Hollywood Reporter: AFM France Special

StarMag

Voilà! A Clip from TPS' entertainment show StarMag featuring ... moi talking about the strike threat in Hollywood. (I realize that as of today it's no longer just a threat but it was when I filmed this segment.) Enjoy!

News : Grêve à Hollywood
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"OOOH OUI!" : Mark Ronson in Paris

"OH MY G-D!" Mark Ronson in Paris for the first time -- "oooooh OUI"! (sorry his songs are just asking for pun-tification.)
The "toxic" music producer turned superstar came to the city of lights for a concert at the Elysées Montmartre on Friday night. Ronson, dressed in a dapper dark suit, played his classic tunes -- "Toxic," "Stop Me," "Valerie" etc -- and surprised concertgoers with an appearance from the very talented Sean Lennon. Ronson and Lennon played a cover of Stevie Wonder's cover of the classic Beatles' hit "We Can work it Out" - very cool. Lennon also played a song from his album "Parachute" that he recently recorded with popular French chanteur M. (Mathieu Chedid, aka Mr. Audrey Tautou) which blew me away. After the show, the Markster enjoyed perusing the new PLAYBOY France ... and hanging out with yours truly.











































Restaurant of the Day: L'Hôtel Amour

What do you get when a chic hotel meets one of the world's most loved nightcrawlers? The aptly titled "Love Hotel" of course.
Welcome to L'Hôtel Amour where the oh-so-chic Costes family meets (or rather, makes sweet love to) king of the hipster chic Parisian scene André. As its name implies, the establishment caters to French lovers in need of a quickie before or after - or during - dinner and rents rooms by the hour. You can even stay the night, the week, the month if you'd like. The popular Montmartre haunt also serves as a fun, laid-back restaurant. The food and drinks are well-priced - even poor journalists like moi can enjoy the fare worry-free - and, while the food is not earthshatteringly delicious, it's definitely, as they say here, a "bon rapport qualité prix." I recommend the Ceasar salad with grilled chicken, one of the best I've had in Paris (that's not saying much I realize, but it's good!), the mac n'cheese (well technically it's pasta with bechamel sauce and comté cheese, but what did you expect Kraft Cheddar?) and, for smaller appetites, the "assiette verte." I also recommend the "Who's Your Daddy?" wine. The Hotel Amour is unpretentious, the service is friendly and efficient, but I recommend reserving a table if you plan to eat anytime between the hours of 8 pm and 1 am since it gets packed. Usually filled with hipster chic Parisians on their way to le Baron. Bon app!

Soundtrack of the Day: "Into the Wild" from Eddie Vedder. Vedder is back (pearl) jamming his way through the heart of America with this incredible music accompaniment to an incredible film.

Lyric of the Day: "Love is like an aero plane
You jump and then you pray
The lucky ones remain
In the clouds for days
If life is just a stage
Let's put on the best show
And let everyone know"
-Sean Lennon, "Parachute"

Just another “Wild” day “In the Valley of…” Paris

Yesterday was just a day like any other. Rendez-vous at the Plaza Athenée and the Bristol with Sean Penn and Paul Haggis, a premiere presentation on stage at a big theater on the Champs-Elysées, then a night cap at the Ritz with Sofia Coppola. Really just a typical day in the life of --- well certainly not me.

I don’t know about you, but my typical day doesn’t usually start with a private screening of Sean Penn’s latest film over two months before its release, followed by a meeting with Sean P. at the Plaza Athenée hotel then a quick meeting with Paul Haggis at the Bristol, an on-stage presentation of Monsieur Haggis in front of an audience of hundreds of oh-so-chic French media people at the UGC Normandie theater followed by a drink at the Ritz (featuring the world’s smallest cheeseburgers may I add) with Sofia Coppola and Thomas Mars. (Okay, so admittedly I wasn’t actually WITH Sofia and Thomas, but the Hemingway Bar is so small that really it was like our own little private party, right?) (Don’t answer that, let me bask in my “I’m-not-actually-rich and famous-but-like-to-pretend-that-I-am” glory.)

So let’s start with Sean, shall we? Now, Sean Penn and I go way back to summer of 2003 when I was working part-time at the Soho Anthropologie store on West Broadway. Sean walked in with his daughter while I was manning the front of the store (yes, a scintillating, intellectually-stimulating task as you can imagine) and we exchanged words. “Hi” he said as he walked in, then “Bye. Have a good day,” he added on his way out. We were BFF from the getgo as you can see. So you can imagine Sean’s happiness when he saw me again in the last row at the press conference for “Into the Wild” then again on stage at the “In the Valley of Elah” premiere. I haven’t seen him so happy since he won the Oscar for “Mystic River.” He was simply glowing. After I presented Paul on stage at the premiere (then, may I add, translated what he said into French for the audience all while maintaining an impressive sangfroid despite the bright lights, tough crowd – well they liked the movie, but they’re French so that means SCARY – and the fact that I had to simultaneously translate a speech about the Iraq war into a language not my own before a crowd of hundreds of people.)










I sat down right in front of Sean (who, may I add, was AT the premiere thanks to MOI. Oui oui, I told the Warner Bros. publicist that he was in town so she called his publicist and invited him. He came, and will probably go on to make an Oscar-winning film with Paul Haggis all because of a young American girl who will get neither credit – nor financial compensation – for such brilliant intervention.) and said to him: “I loved the film this morning, thank you. It was truly amazing.” He smiled and said “thank you” then winked at me as if to say: “Thank you. You are so beautiful and intelligent and lovely and I am simply in awe of you.” (or that’s at least how I translate it from English to …ok, English.)




Earlier in the day, Monsieur Penn gave an Oscar-worthy performance as a typical French man at the press conference for “Into the Wild” following the morning’s screening. He sat at the desk on the stage smoking a cigarette and looking blasé and not very happy to be there. Très French, Sean, way to go! “We’ve become a country of fences… Alaska is as it claims to be, the last frontier,” he told us. “Everyone can relate some part of themselves to this film,” he told the crowd. (well not really crowd, I think there may have been 20 people there max.)
“This was a classic judge a book by its cover situation,” he explained. “When I got to the last page, I thought: ‘Did I just see a movie?’ So I read it again the same day.”
He added: “You write a movie three times – on the page, while making the picture, then again in the editing process.” (That Sean Penn is so profound right now.) The film’s star, the young (only 22, incredible) and talented Emile Hirsch was also in town for the event. While the questions were directed mostly towards Mr. Penn, Mr. Hirsch also got his two cents in. “I immediately focused on getting my body into shape for the role,” he explained. (And that he did ladies!) “Running stabilized me mentally and gave me endurance physically,” he said. Feel free to demonstrate said “endurance” on me any time, Mr. Hirsch. (KIDDING. Again, he’s the ripe old age of 22.)

After the press conference, I walked (yes, I know – crazy huh? My private jet was in the shop and my chauffeur not to be found, so I traveled by foot.) to the Hotel Bristol where I met the wonderful and talented Paul Haggis who was nothing less than a perfect gentleman – very professional and very nice. “I love French audiences. I love France. The film points the finger squarely at the US so it’ll naturally do better elsewhere. We all love to feel superior to another nation,” Haggis told me.
He also told me that the film is based on a story he read in PLAYBOY magazine. Speaking of PLAYBOY, the French version landed on newsstands all over the country yesterday featuring Juliette Binoche in the nude and the world’s ugliest photo of a certain Mademoiselle Rebecca Leffler on the contributor’s page (Ok so it is next to Bob Dylan’s photo and bio, but still … sacré bleu!) and my monthly film page on page 24. Check it out!

So back to my day ... Or actually, let’s forward to my night. After the presentation, I met a couple of friends at the Hemingway Bar at the Ritz. Sofia Coppola and Thomas Mars had the same idea (so it IS true – great minds DO think alike!) and I sat and ate the tiniest cheeseburgers ever created while sipping cucumber-infused water and trying to avoid blindness from the light reflecting off of the enormous diamonds worn by the women around me.



And then I went back up my 81 steps to my 30 square-meter apartment and climbed up the ladder to my coffin/bed and went to sleep. I think I may have broken a rib or two on the steep fall back to reality. ;)

Quote of the Day: “Oh shit – I left my brain in the other restaurant!” –Fabien, after we accidentally left the brain (yes brain) I purchased at the Triperie during the filming of “Une Américaine à Paris” for the new show “Johnny Saucisson” last weekend.

Restaurant of the day/week/month/year/forever and ever: L’Altro

Now, this is against traditional culinary rules in Italy AND France, but let’s start with the chocolates served with the après-dinner coffee. They are simply divine. As many of you may know or if you don’t here it is: I DO NOT LIKE CHOCOLATE. Yes, it’s a handicap that has crippled me at dessert time since I was a child, but I have finally come to terms with my lack of affinity for the cocoa bean and embraced my difference. I have come out of the chocolate-hating closet and I am proud! Anyway, so back to the chocolates. For those of you who actually like REAL, dark cocoa-licious chocolate, stay clear. This is more hazlenutty/nutella-like then real chocolate but they are delicious. While we're on the subject of dessert...their panna cotta is light and delicious -- a sweet ending to what is without fail always one of my most delicious meals of the week (okay okay so sometimes I go 2-3 times in one week) and one of the most reasonably priced. About ¼ of the price of Armani Caffe around the corner, and equally if not better tasting, L’altro is one of my top choices to dine in my neighborhood. Not only are the staff welcoming and always greet me with a friendly “Buena Sera Rebecca!” but the food is wonderful. My staple is their “pennette ai bisi,” pennette with a cream of pea sauce and crispy ham. Other favorites include their smoked bufala mozzarella with grilled zucchini appetizer and their “pennette dell altro” (pennette with garlic, arugula, cherry tomatoes), pennette with lemon cream sauce and pennette with grilled eggplant, ricotta and tomato sauce (their version of “pasta alla norma” my favorite Sicilian memory!). Delicious parmesan cheese and crusty bread marry the decadent flavors of every bite here. The loft-like atmosphere makes for a cool, chic Paris-meets-NYC vibe. Buono appetito! (That is probably not how you say “bon appétit” in Italian but it sounds pretty, si? ;)

Have you seen this man ?

Wanted : Mean old French man
Crime : Attacked an innocent American girl with his cane while she was talking on the phone.
Time of attack : Approx. 9 PM Saturday, October 26 2007. Corner of rue de Buci and rue de Seine, Paris France. After 48 hours of being followed around by four cameras in the hopes of filming examples of mean French people for my new TV show and discovering that most are actually very, very nice…. As soon as we wrapped filming for the night, I went to meet a friend at the Bar du Marché. I stepped outside to talk on the phone when all of a sudden a little old man with a cane whacked me in the knee with said cane, causing me to fall to the ground in excruciating pain in front of everyone at the BDM. I did absolutely nothing wrong (to which the witnesses sitting at the nearby BDM can attest) – I was simply standing on the corner talking on the phone when I guess I was inadvertently blocking Monsieur Crazy’s route so instead of a) moving right or left to get around me or b) simply asking me to move…he took his cane and whacked me so hard I thought I’d never walk again. It all happened so quickly so by the time I regained my composure (and my ability to feel sensation from my right ankle to lower thigh), my attacker was out of sight. And what was I supposed to do, go to the police “Yes, I was attacked by a 125-year old skinny tiny old man.” Sure the irony is incredible – here I spent two days searching for such a cretin and as soon as the cameras leave, this happens. Not to mention that for most of the day, I was wearing knee-pads for a segment I filmed using the new bicycles which would really have come in handy had I known I’d be slain by a crazy Gaul on the way to dinner.
If you have any information on this elderly assailant, please call 1-800-WHYME??

For the record, this is not the first such assault I have suffered in the city of lights. Not only do I have permanent pigeon-magnetism (I've been splashed with pigeon poop on numerous occasions and once, in 2002, I was crossing the street when a pigeon flew into my head and knocked me to the ground. Yes, true story.) but it appears that human beings also enjoy attacking me. Two years ago, I was standing on the rue de Rennes minding my own business when all of a sudden a crazy man came from out of nowhere, gave me an evil look, growled, then hit me hard on the back of my neck. It was broad daylight and I was surrounded by other people, but Monsieur Crazy II (this must be Monsieur Crazy #1's equally loopy son) attacked MOI. Then there was the time I was mugged in the metro for my ipod (again, surrounded by a crowd of people and I was the one targeted) or the time back in NJ when my car was stolen BEFORE MY VERY EYES. As if Paris isn't dangerous enough what with the crazy moto drivers, the ubiquitous vélibs swerving all over the streets (see previous blog entry for my feelings on the matter) and non-pasteurized dairy products, but now I have to worry about crazy french men assaulting me as well? SACRE BLEU!

Juliette Be-naked aka PLAYBOY FRANCE NOVEMBER ISSUE

Juliette Binoche AND Rebecca Leffler in one issue -- does it get any better than that? ;)
Check it out!

VELIBBING AND VEDYING IN PARIS

Ok so can whoever had the brilliant idea to install a series of DEATH TRAPS all over the city of Paris where one can simply swipe one’s credit card and become the proud owner of a DEATH MACHINE please stand up? Yeah you over there with the beret and the little dog. Merci beau-f***ing-coup. Bertrand Delanoë (Mayor of Paris), are you trying to kill me?
July 15 –the day after Bastille Day, the symbol of the end of monarchy and beginning of freedom in Gaul. It’s also the first day that thousands of bicycles became available in Paris at hundreds of self-service docking stations installed around the city. They call them “vélibs.” I looked it up in the dictionary, here’s what I got:
Vélib (vay-leeb) n. 1. A vehicle with two wheels and a seat that is moved by pushing pedals with the feet and steered by handlebars at the front wheel and available throughout the city of Paris for residents and tourists to partake in such an amenity for a small sum. A mélange of the words “vélo” which means “bike” in French and “Liberté” which means freedom. Get it? Bike. Freedom. Freedom on a bike. Oh those Français are so clever aren’t they?! 2. THE MOST ANNOYING, DANGEROUS AND ALL-AROUND RIDICULOUS CREATION TO ARRIVE IN FRANCE SINCE JERRY LEWIS.
Yes, the new 24/7 “wheels of freedom” are apparently all the rage in the French capital. Tourists can see the city without paying for a tour bus or exhausting themselves from walking all day. Financially-challenged party animals can have that last beer before the metro closes and still avoid paying for a taxi to get home. Parisians can avoid the hot, crowded metro on the way to work every morning. And what better way to burn off those croque monsieurs and croissants than sweating it off with a long bike ride around town?
Yes, to many, the velibs are just as veliberatingly velibicious as they sound. However, with 15,000 bikes all over the city, the new bikes are more velibirritating than they are velibeffective. While walking the streets of Paris, I now not only have to avoid wreckless drivers of motor vehicles, “motos” (scooters) swerving in and out of traffic, buses and crowds of Japanese tourists rushing at warp speed towards the entrance of Louis Vuitton, but now I have to get out of the way for the wackos on wheels coming at me at full speed on the velibs. In Amsterdam, bikers are kings. In the fight for right of way, the biker always trumps the pedestrian. But that’s how its always been so the rules are respected and we read about very few “death by bicycle” stories coming out of Holland, am I correct? The streets of Paris, however, have now become a war-stricken battle of all forms of transportation as bikers try not to get run over by buses who are forced to swerve out of the way for sneaky swervy motos trying to avoid the speeding cars who are trying not to kill amateur bikers. And what about us poor pedestrians? I swear I come very close to being a victim of velibassassination at least five times a day. The scene: the all-pedestrian rue de Buci, filled with tourists eating oysters, hipster chic French kids smoking cigarettes at the bar du marché and way too many pigeons. Sunday afternoon: the day G-d decided to rest and so did everyone in France. I’m walking to café Flore (because what else does one do on a Sunday in Paris on a sunny day in October?) when all of a sudden three bikers come barreling through the crowd, forcing everyone in their paths to rush to the side to get out of their way. It was mayhem I tell you – Amorino ice cream cones flew in the air, babies wailed tears of fear and I flung myself into the air to save a dear old French lady from falling to her death. (no that last part totally didn’t happen, but it sounded pretty impressive, didn’t it?) Then, this morning, as I stood on the corner innocently waited for the bus to come - freshly showered, all dressed and dirt-free mind you - a lady on a velib rode right by me, splashing muddy water all over me! Who do these bikers think they are? They’re not even wearing helmets, and that’s another story entirely. The crazy kids on their scooters at least are forced to protect whatever brains they may or may not have with helmets by law. The bikers however? Pas du tout. Plus, if you’re in a car or on a scooter, you need a license which means that at least you’ve had some sort of training or had to pass a test in order to use said mode of transportation. However, anyone with a credit card and a pulse can use the bikes. Actually, I take that back – simply anyone with a credit card – pulse optional. If Lance Armstrong feels the need to pummel through a crowded street in Paris, ride in the bike lane or cut off a Smart Car, then Go Lance! But for all of you amateur bikers threatening MY life simply because you’re on a new exercise campaign or don’t want to pay for a new metropass, STAY OUTTA MY WAY!

Resto of the day: BioBoa

Tofu. Veggie burgers. Green tea cake. No, you haven’t crossed the French border. From the same people who brought you foie gras, buttery croissants and cream of pretty much everything comes a café serving organic AND delicious food (yes, the two are not mutually exclusive contrary to popular belief.) Located just a stone’s throw away from Opéra (but please don’t throw any stones from Opera, its dangerous enough over here what with the bikes situation thank you), BioBoa offers American-style sandwiches, salads and drinks “to-go” or a series of hot “plats du jour” to eat in the chic, simplistic surroundings. Some of my favorites include the tofu stir-fry, the cheeseburger (yes, a decent cheeseburger in Paris – sacré bleu! The bun itself earns its own accolade), the goat cheese and grilled vegetable panini and the “detox” soup which certainly lives up to its name. For dessert, the “Green tea cake” – not a tea cake that’s green, well it is green but it’s also made out of green tea – is delectable (not to mention good for you!) as is the fromage blanc with honey and meusli and the fresh mango. BioBoa also has free wireless internet and, despite the minimalist décor and mostly fashionable clientele of the “ladies who lunch” variety, the staff are friendly and accommodating.

Quote of the day: “Venice when it’s not the film festival is like seeing someone naked you don’t want to see naked.” –a colleague, on how the Italian town is much less sexy in its birthday suit.

Movie of the day: Rush Hour 3

I cried at the end of “Rush Hour 3.” No really, I swear. There were tears in my eyes. “France and America – if we work together, anything is possible.” Awwww. So true! Chris Tucker, who knew we had so much in common? It’s like we’re twins! You like France, I like France. You make $25 million per movie, I make about $25 per story. Your ancestry was traced back to the Mbundu ethnic group of Angola, mine was traced back to the Yiddish ethnic group of Warsaw. You were in a Tupac music video, I just hung out with Kanye West last weekend. It’s uncanny – really. Anyway, I must admit I expected a disaster of a film and was pleasantly surprised by what is in fact a very funny, action-packed romp through Paris. Sure, the film plays upon the cliché postcard of Paris – the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysées, the Hotel Plaza Athenee – but it’s funny, simple humor that works. Yvan Attal is perfectly cast as the initially America-bashing turned USA-loving cab driver. The scene where he sings the national anthem is absolutely hysterical. Of course the movie is far from Oscar-worthy, but Ratner certainly knows how to please a crowd. I’m not usually a huge fan of the action genre, but the fight scenes on top of the Eiffel tower were particularly impressive. Noémie Lenoir is fantastic as the dangerous femme fatale and Julie Depardieu makes a fun quirky cameo (although the verisimilitude factor went way down when she and Attal had an argument in ENGLISH – what was THAT all about?) The humor is very typically American – the scene where the bilingual nun is forced to translate between the Americans and an angry Asian French guy is wonderfully done. (Not to mention that apparently I’m not the only bilingual nun in Paris!) – but let’s be honest, I definitely heard a few chuckles here and there from French critics in the press screening. The film bows in Gaul next Wednesday, Oct. 17 (also the birthday of my father Steven Leffler – shout out to papa who will turn 60 on the big day. Allez Steve!)

French actor of the day: Louis Garrel

Not only is Louis a formidable thesp and Adonis-like hunk of fine French "boeuf," but he's also a) intellectual and b) benevolent as I discovered today. Not only did Garrel quench his literary thirst at the Ecume des Pages bookstore, but afterwards, the generous Gaulois stopped to give a homeless man on the street some money. Oui oui, les filles, he's not only absolutely gorgeous (offscreen and on), but Louis Garrel is also a thinker and a giver (and I can think of plenty of things he can give me ;)*

*such as a nickel, a quarter, fine conversation... get your minds out of la gutter!

Photo of the Day: “Jesus Walks” … right into the PLAYBOY launch party
Me and my man Kanye at the VIP Room. Holla!

PLAYBOY PLAYBOY PLAYBOY

! LE NOUVEAU PLAYBOY : 30 SEPTEMBRE 2007 !
PLAYBOY REVIENT LE 30 SEPTEMBRE 2007 - PLUS MYTHIQUE QUE JAMAIS.

PLUS MODE, PLUS SEXY, PLUS INTELLIGENT.
(COMME MOI, QUI ECRIT DEDANS!!)

PHOTOGRAPHES DE MODE QUE L'ON TROUVE D'HABITUDE DANS VOGUE, NUMÉRO OU DAZED & CONFUSED.

STARS FRANçAISES DU CINÉMA, DE LA TÉLÉVISION OU DE LA MUSIQUE.

GRANDS AUTEURS DE LA LITTÉRATURE.

REDACTEUR EN CHEF YAN CEH (ALIAS LE FAMEUX DJ DUMB) ET UNE NOUVELLE ÉQUIPE RÉDACTIONNELLE EXCLUSIVE INAUGURENT CETTE NOUVELLE FORMULE TRES MODE.

PHOTOS DE VAHINA GIOCANTE PAR KARL LAGERFELD, INTERVIEWS DE BENOIT MAGIMEL ET JULIEN DORE … AND MORE! NE LE MANQUEZ PAS.

http://www.myspace.com/playboy_france

Et en English ...

! NEW FRENCH PLAYBOY : SEPTEMBER 30TH 2007 !
PLAYBOY IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER ON SEPT 30TH 2007.

MORE FASHIONABLE, SEXIER AND MORE INTELLIGENT.
(JUST LIKE MOI, WHOSE ARTICLES YOU CAN READ IN IT)

FASHION PHOTGRAPHERS FROM VOGUE, NUMERO AND DAZED & CONFUSED.

FRENCH MOVIE STARS, TV STARS AND MUSICIANS.

FAMOUS FRENCH AUTHORS.

EDITOR IN CHIEF YAN CEH (AKA THE FAMOUS DJ DUMB) AND A NEW AND EXCLUSIVE EDITORIAL TEAM USHER IN A NEW, FASHIONABLE VERSION OF THE POPULAR MAGAZINE.

PHOTOS OF VAHINA GIOCANTE BY KARL LAGERFELD, INTERVIEWS WITH BENOIT MAGIMEL AND JULIEN DORE...AND MORE!
DON'T MISS IT.

http://www.myspace.com/playboy_france

L'Age d'Homme

L'age d'homme maintenant ou jamais teaser 2
Uploaded by caro8049

Au revoir, les enfants … hello to les hommes. Raphael Fejto, aka Jean Bonnet of “Au Revoir, Les Enfants” fame, has grown up into quite the director. The John Galliano look-a-like’s sophomore feature film, “L’Age d’Homme…Maintenant ou Jamais” (“The Age of Man…Now or Never”) is an entertaining, provocative romp through the male passage to the age of adulthood, namely 30 years old. The plot is ostensibly identical to pretty much all other French movies ever made – a French guy cheats on his girlfriend and mayhem ensues. In this version, however, the guy is the magnificently talented ubiquitous thesp Romain Duris, the girlfriend is the also magnificently talented ubiquitous thesp Aissa Maiga and the mayhem that ensues is actually quite funny. I even laughed out loud periodically. Duris is perfect as 30-year-old Samuel, a writer/director living with his photographer girlfriend of one year, Tina (Maiga). Samuel adores Tina but wonders if there’s something – or someone – better out there for him. He’s aided on his quest for the truth by Leonardo Da Vinci (also played by a bearded, beatboxing Duris), a caveman (Duris) and, because no quest for the truth would be complete without him, Jesus Christ (again, Duris). Not to mention his friends. Jorge (Clement Sibony), Mounir (Rachid Djaidani) and Vittorio (Tarubi) who form a smart entourage of eclectic characters. Not to mention the fact that, as Sibony spends almost an entire scene buttoning up his shirt in the bathroom while he talks to Duris, I was desperately wanting to UNbutton said chemise. What a stud. With a soundtrack featuring Mika, Amy Winehouse and LCD Soundsystem, pretty much 1h28 of Romain Duris shirtless and beautiful views of Paris, the film is definitely worth seeing “now” rather than “never.”
While the movie explores male coming-of-age, I definitely related. A guy turning 30 is a lot like a girl turning 25. (yes, it’s been scientifically proven that we do mature more quickly, gentlemen) In France, if you’re female, 25 and “célibataire”, you may as well have the plague.
Célibataire: adj. literal meaning: single; actual cultural meaning: what’s wrong with you?
Being single in this country is a fate considered to be worse than death. Thus, if a girl turns 25 and isn’t married, she has to go and pray to Saint Catherine.
Here’s the scoop on Cathy (thank you random website fisheaters.com):
“St. Catherine was a brilliant young woman of noble birth who went before the Emperor Maximinus to correct him for worshipping false gods and to upbraid him for his persecution of Christians. He sent some of his greatest scholars and philosophers to debate her -- but she ended up converting many of them, and they were put to death and Catherine was beaten and jailed. […] she was condemned to die on the wheel, but when she touched it, it shattered. She was then beheaded. Legend says that the angels carried her body to Mt. Sinai. She is the patron of unmarried women, students, philosophers, craftsmen who use wheels (e.g., potters), lacemakers, and milliners.”

Thus, on St Catherine’s day, unmarried women over 25 all over France (I think there may be about 3 of us) called “Catherinettes” go to pray to St Catherine and ask her to find a husband for them. On September 6th, I will be turning the big 2-5 and will thus be forced to put my love life into the hands of poor, beheaded Cathy. Oh and I forgot to add that the Catherinettes are supposed to wear a hat all day long, and “they are usually feted with a meal among friends.” Does it say “The Ritz” anywhere in that Bible passage does anyone know? I think I saw that somewhere… Because of this hat-wearing custom, French milliners have big parades to show off their wares on this day.
Apparently, this is what I am supposed to say:
“St Catherine, St Catherine, O lend me thine aid
And grant that I never may die an old maid.”
As if turning 25 isn’t scary enough, there go those French to remind me that I may indeed die an old maid with 300 cats in a dusty old attic resembling the remains of Miss Havisham in Dickens’ “Great Expectations.” (okay so maybe they don’t go THAT far but hello “old maid”?? sacré bleu.) Oh and if you thought that was enough, it continues…”A husband, St. Catherine. A handsome one, St. Catherine. A rich one, St. Catherine. A nice one, St. Catherine. And soon, St. Catherine.” HA. They took the words right out of my mouth. I’m going to adapt my version to add: “A French one, St. Catherine. A Jewish one, St. Catherine. A Tall one, St. Catherine. A funny one, St. Catherine.” Or how specific are we allowed to be? How about: “One named Guillaume Canet, St. Catherine. Or George Clooney, St. Catherine.” I feel that Catherine and I would really relate. I mean, I don’t worship false gods or plan to be beheaded anytime soon, but her body was carried by angels to Mt. Sinai, I was born at Mt. Sinai hospital. She was a brilliant young woman of noble birth. So was I. (well perhaps no noble birth although I’d say Beryl and Steven Leffler are pretty noble people, wouldn’t you?) And when she touched the wheel, it shattered. I’ve broken so many glasses simply by touching them, I swear. I think we’d be BFF. Maybe she’s on myspace?

FRENCH HIGHS

I’ve finally figured out why everything takes so long in this country …
Everyone is high! A new study was just published in Gallic newspaper Le Monde with the headline: “Cannabis: a French Addiction.” According to the report, 1.2 million French people regularly smoke “hashish,” 550,000 of whom smoke every day. By age 17, half of the French population has already experimented with marijuana and 200,000 Frenchies admit to growing their own “shit” (pronounced “sheeeet”).
So THAT’s where the famous expression “Paris is burning” comes from. This explains so much. Why is my waiter taking 1.76 hours to bring out a boeuf tartare not even in need of cooking? He’s smoking a doobie with the pastry chef in the back room. Why can’t I get anyone on the phone before 11 am? They had a little “herbal tea” with breakfast. Why are there no taxis to be found on a Saturday night? Because the cabbies are cultivating their plants at home, of course. France spends an estimated 832 million euros per year on the drug (yet they can’t afford to give me free health care mind you.) French history makes so much more sense now.
Take this weekend’s upcoming Bastille Day celebration. Why did the people of Paris rise up and storm the Bastille on July 14th, 1789? Well, because the state prison symbolized the absolutism and arbitrariness of the Ancien Regime, right ? Mais non. In fact, there was a secret stash of weed hidden inside so storming the place with force was the only way to get a hold of the hash. When authorities questioned said druggies, they simply responded « it was in the name of freedom ! Vive la revolution ! » and the holiday was born.
The « Dark Ages » actually represented the years when the hashish crop was suffering and the French had to endure years of limited marijuana supplies.
And Louis XIV ? Nicknamed the « Sun King » of course because he was always wearing protective shades to hide his red eyes. Napoleon was so short because his growth was stunted from all of the pot his mother smoked before he was born. And how else do you explain all of the mirrors in Versailles ? When Marie Antoinette said « let them eat cake » she was actually referring to the munchies. The Eiffel Tower is really just a very tall joint. And why do you think Jacques Chirac always has that sly smile on his face ? Not to mention that US comedy “Weeds” is one of the most popular TV shows here. And you’d need to be high to laugh at most French humor. It’s all so clear now.

Resto of the Day: La Ferme Opéra. It’s the only “farm” you’ll probably ever find me at. “Le Ferme,” located just a stone’s throw away from Opéra, is my latest obsession. Totally “bio” (organic), La Ferme offers homemade, fresh products for breakfast and lunch. My personal favorites include their heavenly scones (dipped in a “noisette noisette,” an espresso mixed with milk, hazelnut syrup and shaved hazelnuts), amazing carrot cake, healthy salads (quinoa with avocado, almonds and tomatoes or bulgur taboulé with feta, olives, tomato and a mint pesto), wraps (chicken with eggplant spread, coriander and cucumbers or lemon-marinated chicken with avocado, carrots, and cucumbers), quiche (feta and sundried tomato or cucumber carbonara), rice pudding with mango and strawberries or fromage blanc with dried fruit, meusli and honey. Sit in the cute “garden” in the back room or take advantage of their free wireless in the main area in the front. And – sacré bleu! – they’re open on Sundays! (and do a great Sunday brunch mind you).

Crazy French expression of the day:
“Il ne faut pas vendre la peau de l’ours avant de l’avoir tué.” (“Don’t sell the bear skin before you’ve killed the bear.”)
In English, we say “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”



Musical selection of the day: Martin Rappeneau’s “Poupée Russe.” Martin Rappeneau, son of director Jean-Paul Rappeneau, is currently wowing France with his soft, lyrical tunes such as this wonderful ballad from his CD “L’Age d’Or.”
“Oh ma poupée russe, Le passé est semé d'embûches.” (“Oh my Russian doll, the past is scattered with traps” – yes doesn’t everything just sound better in French?) and “Sous ton visage d'autres visages, Dans tes yeux d'autres paysages Bien difficile à effacer. Dans tes mains d'autres caresses, Dans ta mémoire d'autres adresses,
Que l'on devrait laisser cachées. Oh ma poupée russe, On trouvera bien quelques astuces. (“Under your face, other faces. In your eyes, other landscapes, difficult to erase. In your hands, other caresses. In your memory, other addresses, that we should leave hidden. Oh my Russian doll, we’ll find tricks.”) Martin, feel free to Rapp(eneau) your hands around me any day ;)

Night with the French Rat

No, I'm not referring to my latest boyfriend, I'm actually talking about a French rat. THE French rat.
Step aside Mickey Mouse, there’s a new rodent in town. Remy the rat joined Disney execs and a stew of French stars at the Paris premiere party for animated hit “Ratatouille.” Following an afternoon screening on the Champs-Elysees, waiters with giant forks and knives, valets on stilts and singing waitresses animated the red carpet before guests enjoyed a night of dining and dancing under the Alexandre III Bridge.
Disney served up a magical evening with the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance and a massive food tent filled with gourmet grub from caterer Le Notre wishing all guests a bon appetit.
“I’m so proud of this film. I love Paris so it makes it really fun that the film was set here,” said director Brad Bird who flew into Paris for the occasion. Producers John Lasseter and Brad Lewis, Disney President and CEO Bob Iger and Chairman Dick Cook also made their way to “zee most beautiful city” for the gastronomic gala.
“It’s really quite a love letter to France,” said Cook. He added: “There’s no sequel in the works yet but a little dessert would be good.”
Speaking of desserts, Le Nôtre can be “le mien” anytime – not only was the room decorated with a giant puff pastry, but the chocolate fountain and colorful, tasty mini-éclairs were like out of a dream (actually, I’m almost certain I’ve had dreams just like that.) If you are what you eat, I’d like to be an éclair from Le Notre – long, lean, sweet, hard on the outside and smooth on the inside. Le Notre served up palette-pleasing cuisine fit for a king…or a seven-inch high rat with a keen sense of smell.

It was the cheesiest party I’ve been to in awhile. Literally – there were at least ten different kinds of fromage to choose from, and bread to accompany it. Chefs in white hats served differnt kinds of pastas, raviolis, meat and potatoes on tiny little plates. The Disney execs sat at reserved tables in a special “VIP” section as waiters brought them a selection of the culinary offerings. Us plebians, however, had to visit each food station ourselves, carry our own plates, lift our own forks to our own mouths – it’s a rough life, I tell you.
A handful of sommeliers also proposed wine-tasting for guests. After 178 glasses of said wine, the rat pack moved to the large dance floor of Showcase for night of tail-swinging and booty shaking.
Brad Bird told me on his way inside: “It’s great to be in Paris, especially when someone else is paying for it.”
I’m sure it is, Brad. Disney, would you care to donate to the “Rebecca Leffler is a poor journalist” Society? Cash, check or free catering from Le Notre accepted.
The event was star-studded, but certainly not a celebrity galaxy. French B-list stars brought their children to the event, and, to my utter disappointment, Guy Savoy was a no-show. However, celebrity chef Cyril Lignac, who lent his voice to the French version of the film, did make an appearance. It was love at first bite. No, he didn't actually bite me (not yet anyway) but I think his soup of life could use a little sprinkle of Leffler sauce. "The cooking world is very enclosed, so in order to achieve such detail, Disney needed to consult real chefs. It's thanks to their precision that the film succeeded," he told me. The conversation continued as follows:
Me: Do you make a Ratatouille in your restaurant?
Cyril Lignac: Actually, yes, it's funny, I make a stuffed zucchini flower filled with [insert long, complicated amazingly delicious sounding french recipe details here, I was too focused on his beautiful eyes and inviting smile to really pay attention but I know it sounded good]
Me: So when are you coming over to cook for me?
Cyril: Is that a proposition?
Me (speaking): Ben non!
Me (thinking): Of course, anytime baby!

Bob Iger told me: “We’re very pleased with this film. The reviews are well-deserved. It’s a magnificent film. It’s animation in its most evolved form. You could almost smell the food when you watched the film.”
He’s right. Pixar’s attention to detail is so incredible, I wanted to stick a fork into the screen and taste the little rat’s creations. It was honestly one of the best films I’ve seen all year – and not just the best starring a rodent, humans included as well. I had a smile on my face from start to finish. I sincerely hope an animation Oscar will fly into Brad Bird's nest of awards come February.
“One of the challenging things we didn’t anticipate was how difficult it would be to get the food to be delicious-looking,” said executive producer John Lasseter.
Well they certainly succeeded – santé!

Too Days Een Parees

I just spent “2 Days in Paris” with Julie Delpy, Adam Goldberg and a potpourri of strange French characters and I must say, 48 hours isn’t enough. I haven’t laughed so hard at a Franco-American romantic comedy based in Paris since … well, this is the first Franco-American romantic comedy based in Paris I’ve seen. (The season finale of “Sex&TheCity” does NOT count, thank you.) Delpy, une Française living in the US (and my doppelganger I’d like to think), has written, directed, edited AND provided the music for this hysterical romp through Paris which manages to poke fun at the French, but avoid nearly all “an American in Paris” humor clichés. Dialogue-driven humor combined with postcard-like panoramas of Paris and uproarious performances from ubiquitous paranoid Jew Adam Goldberg and Delpy’s real-life parents make the film a two-day French vacation not to be missed.
“2 Days” is a satire of Yankee-Gallic cultural differences disguised as a moving love story, disguised as a biting comedy disguised as a cheap way to experience the real Paris without buying a plane ticket or paying for a tour guide.
The movie opens with a close-up of a sleeping Jack (Goldberg) and Marion (Delpy) on a train on the way back from vacation in Venice. The couple – she, a quirky photographer and he, a mysteriously tattooed interior designer – decide to stop over in Paris for a couple of days on their way back home to New York. Goldberg plays the typical neurotic New York Jew transplanted into what appears to be another galaxy in a Woody Allen-like coup de comedy. Delpy is back in her “Before Sunrise”/”After Sunset” shoes traversing the city of lights, but this time with little make-up and a far more idiosyncratic, unglamorous role.
It was as if Delpy took the past three years of my life in France, stole the funniest moments, and compacted them into a 1h36minute film. My American-living-in-Paris friend Mademoiselle Ange, who I took to the screening, and I were howling for most of the film, but noticed that the French viewers among us were silent for the most part. Perhaps it is because, after all, the film not only pokes fun at the French, but also exaggerates the experience of clueless Americans reacting to the ostensibly normal in France yet strange, strange practices of les Français. Yet, at the same time, from the opening scene where Jack sends poor, unsuspecting, Bush-supporting middle Americans on a Da Vinci Code tour on a wrong path to the Louvre to Jack’s fear of Muslim terrorist attacks on the Metro, the film also makes fun of Americans in Paris. And Jack’s reaction to Marion’s tiny studio apartment (above that of her parents) was an exact reincarnation of my own mother’s reaction to my apartment. “It’s…er…quaint. And very…uhh…Parisian,” he says, then enters the bathroom and starts screaming. “OH MY G-D! Is that black mold on the wall??” “it’s like a Petri dish for allergens,” he adds. Did Delpy arrange a meeting with my own Jewish mother before finishing the script I wonder?



A few moments later, when the couple attempt to have sex in her tiny bed (try adding 81 steps sans elevator, a ladder and a bed “en mezzanine” which, in French means, “LIKE SLEEPING IN A COFFIN” and THEN expect some pity from me, kids), Jack is astounded by the small size of French condoms. “No wonder French men have to be so romantic,” he says. And the French idea of fidelity (actually, the idea of fidelity doesn’t exist in France), breakups, and love clash with Jack’s Americanized views on such issues when the two run into several of Marion’s former boyfriends and lovers.
The lunch scene that follows had me peeing in my tiny French pants. Delpy’s father steals the show as a vulgar yet loveable French man who forgets to think before he speaks and quizzes Jack on American and French literature while eating the head of a rabbit and declaring that “real men eat the head” as Jack tries to stomach le lapin while trying to forget memories of his childhood bunny. This scene brought me back to a dinner I had when I first spent time in Paris one summer when I was 16. A friend’s father took us out to a fancy 8-course meal and I had to eat everything on my plate. After suffering through shellfish with eyes, some strange jelly-like pâté and snails, I was given the main course: rabbit. My friend then starting singing “Little Bunny Foo Foo” and I just couldn’t handle it, so I opted to eat the small white pasta-like chunks on the side of the plate, only to learn later from our waiter that these weren’t indeed chunks of pasta, but instead pieces of RABBIT LARD. Ah oui, I’ve never been able to see Easter in quite the same way.
In another scene, the lovers get into a taxi and the conversation that follows is the exact same conversation I have pretty much every time I enter a cab.
Taxi driver: “Vous êtes américains?”
Deply: “Lui, oui, on habite à NY.”
(He is, yes, We live in NY.)
Taxi driver: “Ah New York? J’ADORE New York!”
Delpy also has to explain to friends at a party that Jack cannot drink red wine – he has an allergy and gets headaches. So when I announce a similar red wine allergy to French people and they look at me like I am an alien with 4 heads and a cheeseburger attached to the side of my face, now they’ll see that I’m not alone in my physical sensitivity to the red grape.
Speaking of allergies, I think perhaps the funniest scene is when Marion eats muscles and has a reaction. Amidst the screaming and panic, Jack yells “Somebody call 911! Wait is it 911 here?” And Marion is screaming “Allergie! Moules!” (“meaning I have a muscle allergy!”) And Jack starts yelling “Quick somebody call Allergie Moules! Allergie Moules!”



The last scenes are a bit strange as Marion turns into a borderline bipolar crazy woman (again, it was like looking into a mirror. JUST KIDDING) and Jack meets a strange animal rights activist in a fast-food joint (a cameo from German actor Daniel Bruhl), but all’s well that ends well and Delpy doesn’t hesitate to end the film with a love scene in Paris, as all romantic comedies taking place in Paris should end. Delpy isn’t afraid of cliché or slapstick humor, but manages to create a film virtually without both. Many of the jokes and lines are extremely funny and usually subtle. It’s as if Woody Allen cloned himself but came out instead as a blond French woman poking fun at her own people. Her chemistry with Goldberg is wonderful and it was nice to see scenes of Paris not out of a Frommer’s tour book. Très bien, Madame Delpy, très bien.
“2 Days in Paris” opens in France on July 11th and in the U.S. on August 10th. Courez-y!

Quote of the Day: "J'ai aimé et j'ai été aimé, mais jamais les deux en mêmê temps." ("I've loved and I've been loved, but never both at the same time.")
-Frédéric Beigbeder, from "Au Secours Pardon" out in French bookstores today.

Café of the Day: Exciting news! No, Paris Hilton is STILL in jail and Demi and Ashton haven't gotten divorced (yet) but... Cojean has opened a new café right next to the Louvre! And, yes that's correct, right across the river from chez moi! Not only does the new location provide a scenic view of the French capital's most famous museum and all of Cojean's light, delicious, fresh products to munch on, but it's also - are you sitting down? - open on Sundays! Sure, G-d may have rested on Sundays but Cojean doesn't need to, vive le healthy sandwich! They actually just put out their new summer menu which features an orzo pasta salad with parmesan, zucchini, sundried tomatoes and a lemon-olive sauce, a mini-sandwich with grilled veggies on brioche, fresh melon and a carrot salad with cinnamon, pistachio and raspberries. All worth eating if you're spending at least "2 Days in Paris" anytime soon.

Word of the Day: La Palettiquette: n. m. an ethics code to follow when visiting 43, rue de Seine 75006 Paris, France.
It’s pretty much the same story for most popular Parisian spots. Someone decides that a place is cool and it becomes the place to be for no ostensible reason other than somebody decided that it’s cool and no one is about to contest such a decision. (see: Le Baron, le Bar du Marché and Mathis.) Take La Palette, for example. Located on the rue de Seine, in between art galleries and, well, more art galleries, La Palette resembles every other café in the capital – tiny, round tables and little chairs outside, tiny, round tables and little chairs inside, a bathroom for 1 complete with a toilet that flushes when it pleases, and a few beverage choices on the menu, namely an oenephile’s nightmare “red wine, white wine or rosé.” Yet French hipsters and unsuspecting tourists wandering past the art galleries come from near and far to crowd around tables, drink whatever is on tap and smoke cigarettes. Pourquoi, you may ask? Is it the view? Other people drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. The cuisine? Cheese on toast. Ham on toast. Or a mix of the two. The beverages? Wine. Beer. And Perrier. Yet neither rain nor sleet nor snow will keep these French soldiers from their Palette. As soon as the sun even hints that it’s about to make an appearance, everyone in France between the age of 20 and 25 heads to La Palette to sit side-by-side (almost on each other’s laps in fact), drink wine and stare those waiting for tables up and down. Ah oui, waiting for a table. Getting a table during “Palette prime time” (read: from around 7 PM to midnight) is about as easy as finding a Frenchman with big muscles or a sandwich without butter in this town. Translation: eeem-poos-eee-buuul. And the Code of La Palethics doesn’t seem to exist. La Palogic states that no matter how many people are waiting for a table, one has the right to simply walk up and sit down if one sees someone getting up. La Palettiquette also implies that blowing cigarette smoke into someone’s face directly is OK. However, despite the lack of La Palettiquette, La Palette is a crowded, smoky yet unfailingly fun place to drink wine with friends, run into everyone you’ve ever met in life (or at least during your French life) and enter into stage 4 lung cancer faster than you can say “But I was here first!”

Link of le day: http://www.gogoparis.com/gogogo/node/1399

CAMP CANNES 2007

French film camp is over. Every May, the crème-de-la-crème of international big screen stars make their way to the Croisette to celebrate the 7th art. Film executives from all over the world gather in an oversized cabin (called the Palais), sit around the fire (namely, the lavish fireplaces of the Majestic and Martinez hotels), tell stories (via images on a giant screen the size of a small French village) and stay up all night drinking bug juice (also known as champagne). Each day, herds of movie campers hustle into the Palais for the morning screening, then head to daily activities such as sports (running up and down the Croisette to and from meetings), arts&crafts (yes, in France, cinema is indeed the “7th art”), relay races (you try getting up and down that red carpet in 4-inch heels) and sing-alongs (think: 3 am. Jimmy’z. Drunken film executives belting out Britney Spears), and there’s even naptime (see: the morning screening) and snacktime (caviar, anyone?). 12 days, 23 films in competition, 0 hours of sleep and hundreds of glasses of champagne later, everyone packs their bags and heads back to their respective countries. Everyone spends all year getting ready for it, and then, before you can say “cut!” the credits roll and its all over in a flash. As Catherine Deneuve told me just a few days ago: “There’s so much excitation in so few days. It’s so quick, so fast. I’m always depressed after Cannes.”
The Cannes Film Festival is like a drug – you’re high for 12 days then its only inevitable that you come down from such a crazy/exciting/colorful/hallucinatory trip. Though only a 5-hour train ride from Paris, Cannes is a planet all to itself, complete with its own time zone, its own language, its own rules and even its own royal family topped off by King Gilles Jacob. It’s a land where if you’re not VIP, it’s RIP for you.
This year, Cannes campers from all over the world spent “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days” with “Alexandra,” “The Man from London” and “An Old Mistress” with a pit stop at “Paranoid Park” on the way to “Persepolis,” trying not to get lost in “The Mourning Forest” along the way. Cinephiles approached “The Edge of Heaven” and saw a “Silent Light” and a ‘Secret Sunshine,” but discovered that it was “No Country for Old Men.” “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” got together to sing “Love Songs” and declare “We Own the Night.” (“My Blueberry Nights,” that is.) Without stopping for a “Breath,” filmmakers tried to “Import Export” their “Death Proof” movies in order to avoid “The Banishment” from Cannes. “Promise Me This,” spectators, including the “Zodiac” : distribute “Tehilim” on your way up the red carpet steps to the Palais theater so you can avoid the inevitable “Days of Darkness” when you return to reality after the festival.
Here are some highlights from the festival’s 60th year and my third. Tighten up those fanny packs, wave goodbye to Mom and Dad and welcome to Camp Cannes.

May 16


The first of 12 blueberry nights kicked off in Cannes as director Wong Kar Wai led the cast of "My Blueberry Nights" up the red carpet to the Grand Palais theater for the film's world premiere. Wong accompanied Jude Law and songbird Norah Jones, stars of the Hong Kong director's first English-language feature, which, I must say, I really liked. It’s just like the blueberry pie that carries the plot – very sugary but also quite delicious. Jude Law plays, well Jude Law – the charmingly humble stud with a hot British accent – and Norah Jones proves that there’s a lot of acting talent behind that pretty voice. With a strong supporting cast (Rachel Weisz, David Strathairn, Natalie Portman), a fabulous soundtrack and enough pie to feed all of America, “My Blueberry Nights” is an aesthetically beautiful road trip through the United States that will put filmgoers “in the mood for love.”
Although Wong certainly was in the mood for the red carpet in his signature dark shades and tux, members of the film's supporting cast — including Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman and David Strathairn — were no-shows. Yet the Croisette was glittering with star power as swarms of celebs including Elizabeth Hurley (who bumped into me while walking to her seat – bitch! No, I kid, Lizzie, I’ve seen “Austin Powers” you could totally kick my ass), Minnie Driver (in a fabulous hip-hugging white dress) Juliette Binoche (still the epitome of French glamour, class and elegance in my opinion) and Cannes vet Luc Besson sent photographers into a snapping frenzy.
Diane Kruger, German-born actress and mistress of ceremonies (and, more importantly, former spouse of THE Guillaume Canet himself, now dating Joshua Jackson, rumored to have separated from him, however he was with her at the closing night ceremony for the premiere of her film “Days of Darkness” sitting next to Karl Lagerfeld, thus, I am led to believe that they are indeed back on. Don’t cry, Guillaume, I am here to console you) was host of the hoopla and wowed the crowd with a trilingual welcome in French, English and German. "In Cannes, anything is possible," Kruger said, adding that "For 12 days, we all speak the same language, that of cinema."
The event stuck to its traditional proceedings, with Kruger calling the 2007 jury onstage, finishing with a musical entrance fit for a "Queen" for its president, Stephen Frears. A series of clips from each of the films In Competition followed.
David Lynch made the long trip from Mulholland Drive to the Croisette to present his "surprise gift" to the festival for its 60th anniversary, a short film titled "Absurda," also the name of the distribution company Lynch owns and a very appropriate title for a film that may as well have been subtitled in a rare Malaysian-African dialect from the 17th century because it went so far over my head – and the heads of the hundreds of people in the Palais – that it will take another 60 years for all of us to figure out what the hell was going on.
The almost 100-year-old Manoel de Oliveira came onstage to say a few words before Taiwanese actress Shu Ki declared the festival officially open. Let the games begin!
Audience members not full from the Wong film's many slices of pie refilled their plates at an official dinner in the Palais where very important people (and me!) gathered for cocktails, conversation and cuisine (and by that I mean, the “dinner” was more of a parade of finger food fit for a small town of Lilliputians – come on, King Gilles, FEED US!). Kerry Washington and Andie MacDowell represented L’Oréal with some fancy schmancy dresses and the brightest red lips I’ve ever seen.
But I must confess: I broke the law at this party – Jude Law, that is. It was the greatest (blueberry) night of my life – our eyes met and it was as if I was the blueberry and he was the pie crust and we were just meant to be together. (Yup, I’m still going with the blueberry pie analogies, it doesn’t get stale does it?)
We exchanged a few words:
Jude: I love you. I want to spend the rest of my blueberry nights with you. Forget Sienna - Will you marry me?
Rebecca: Oui!
Or something like that…
Harvey Weinstein was in tow and, when I was introduced to him for the 450th time and he said “Hi, Harvey,” I replied “I’m still Rebecca.”
Bai Ling was there. Bai Ling is everywhere in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party and NOT bumped into Bai. Or Ling? Let’s just call her BL…Anyway, she’s totally ubiquitous. Last year in Cannes, at the Wild Bunch party for “Southland Tales,” she almost knocked me over with her very large white dress. She’s dangerous, I tell you.
After I’d had my fill of hot shot film executives, Jude Law’s extended gaze (I mean really, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, can you take your eyes off of me for one minute please?), Norah Jones (who is quite tiny in real life but seemed very sweet, I adored her dark blue long dress) and way too many mini éclairs, I headed to the StudioCanal afterparty for the film. Just like camp, we all piled into buses to take us to East Bumblefuck, Cannes for a packed party in a huge tent.

Here’s the official party wrap up from moi and my fellow THR party attendees:
For the opening-night Cannes premiere of revered director Wong Kar Wai's first English-language film, these folks took the title seriously. Remember Violet in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," the girl who turned into an exploding blueberry? That was how La Palestre looked from the outside the Canal Plus party, surrounded by metallic trailers serving diner food.

Attendees: Norah Jones, Jude Law (sans Sienna or Lindsay), Bai Ling, cineaste fave Jessica Simpson, Endeavor's Patrick Whitesall and the exploding U.S. distributor himself, Harvey Weinstein. Of course, the Wongster also was on hand, sporting his signature shades and in the mood for snapping photos with partygoing fans.

Cuisine: Hot dogs in a bun, chicken thighs and mini hamburgers virtually screamed, "Wong, welcome to America." The VIP bar had jugs of blueberry puree, and the Ben & Jerry's ice cream cart had strawberry, mixed berry but ... no blueberry! Quel scandale!

Highlights/lowlights: Three intrepid reporters made their way up to the VIP area without wristbands, but most were forced to stay below the raised platform. The large widescreen displays showing guests and film clips were impressive. Given the film's Ry Cooder score and Jones as its star, however, there was an inexplicable disco theme (including a remix of Dolly Parton's "Jolene") with a revolving metal grid dance floor (but no injuries were reported).

May 17
My first official day of Canal+’s “le Palmomètre”, part of “Le Grand Journal” daily Cannes edition during which time I tell over 3 million French viewers that I LIKE CHEESE. Yes, going to jump on one of these nice yachts in the harbor and escape…

My evening began at the annual Marché du Film opening night bash at the Majestic Beach – a who’s who of international buyers, sellers, distributors…and of course Jerome Paillard, the Master of the Market.
Then onto the “Red Balloon” party at the 3.14 Baron Beach…
The fete for Un Certain Regard opener "The Flight of the Red Balloon" was missing helmer Hou Hsiao Hsien and star Juliette Binoche, who chose to head home after dinner at the 3.14. Industry members and a select few famous French faces sipped Chivas Regal, Beefeater dry gin, champagne and Wyborowa vodka at the bash thrown by Margo Films, Les Films du Lendemain, Films Distribution and the Ile de France Film Commission. Though stomachs grumbled with no food in sight, guests enjoyed mellow music and a beachfront view at the swank 3.14 Baron beach.

Attendees: Director Pascale Ferran, Cesar winner for "Lady Chatterley," looked striking. Gallic actress Aissa Maiga floated about the beachside space with Ile de France Film Commission topper Olivier Rene-Veillon and a potpourri of international industry execs.

Cuisine: None!

Highlights/lowlights: With so many other events going on, star sightings were scarce, and the party became a sort of transition stopover for many on their way from the Marche du Film fete and to other events. And with not even minuscule munchies on offer, guests seemed ready to take flight.
Then onto the “Water Lilies” afterparty at the 3.14 Baron club just up the street…

First-time director Celine Sciamma celebrated a warm reception to her first feature film screened in Un Certain Regard category with live music, drinks and the creme de la creme of the hipster chic French scene. Para One, straight from the film's soundtrack, provided the music for the early morning bash at the Club Le Baron Hotel 3.14 as guests left the theater with images of synchronized swimming scenes as they headed for some synchronized -- and unsynchronized -- dancing courtesy of Les Productions Balthazar, Haut et Court and Films Distribution.

Attendees: Films Distribution's Francois Yon worked the room alongside Sciamma and talent, with the ubiquitous Harvey Weinstein making a late-night appearance. Gallic actor Melvil Poupaud, star of "Un Homme Perdu," which is screening in the Directors' Fortnight, and his producer, MK2's Nathanael Karmitz, also swam into the party.

Cuisine: None!

Highlights/lowlights: The film's afterparty turned into a smoky, crowded, elbow-rubbing bash as habitues of Paris' chic nightclub Le Baron headed to the 3.14 for a romp on the Riviera.


MAY 19


The Festival de Cannes received a rockin' gift for its 60th birthday as Irish band U2 played to an enthusiastic crowd from the steps of the Palais des Festivals around 12:30 a.m. Sunday.
The band missed an afternoon press conference and other festival events when their flight from Dublin was delayed, but they made up for their tardiness with a live, unscheduled concert.
Thousands of filmgoers and fans gathered by the famous Cannes red carpet to hear Bono, the Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. belt out the hits "Vertigo" and "Where the Streets Have No Name."
Traffic stopped on the Croisette as Bono and company left the official festival cars and marched to the top of the Palais steps where their instruments awaited them. Cheers could be heard all the way down the Croisette as "No Country for Old Men" star Javier Bardem danced alongside the band.
The concert preceded the 1 a.m. world premiere of concert documentary "U2 3D," screening Out of Competition, which tracks the band during their recent "Vertigo" world tour with advanced 3-D technology.

May 20
Gilles Jacob and Thierry Fremaux had a lot of hands to shake Sunday night as the Festival de Cannes rolled out the red carpet for a star-studded 60th anniversary ceremony and screening of the shorts compilation "To Each His Own Cinema" at the Grand Palais.

The film's 35 directors were present, and cinema legends Gerard Depardieu, Fanny Ardant, Pedro Almodovar, Faye Dunaway, Helen Mirren, Javier Bardem and Sharon Stone also graced the massive swarm of fans on the Croisette with their presence. After a seemingly never-ending red carpet run complete with French Minister of Culture and Communication manning the top of the Palais steps, the ceremony began. Recently crowned French President Nicolas Sarkozy was a no-show despite rumors that he would make an appearance in Cannes over the weekend.

Chairs were set up in front of the big screen, with the movie's directors including Roman Polanski, Nanni Moretti and the brothers Coen and Dardenne, with Jane Campion the lone female helmer on the scene.
The empty seat at the end of the row was soon filled with hostess of the evening Juliette Binoche, who lent her bilingual, bi-cultural touch to the occasion by telling the crowd: "Tonight's celebration is a little different. It's a world premiere for the directors themselves." A standing ovation preceded the "move theater"-themed film dedicated to Federico Fellini described in the opening credits as "that thrill when the lights dim and the movie begins."
The film received a positive response from the crowd, who clapped especially hard for the eclectic submissions from Amos Gitai, Joel and Ethan Coen, Moretti and Lars von Trier. The film was broadcast simultaneously on Canal Plus and will air on Arte on Saturday night, with Studio Canal preparing a DVD release in Gaul in the coming days.
As the sky exploded with fireworks, the celebration continued with a dinner and star-studded afterparty at the Parc De La Roseraie.
Thanks to Guillermo del Toro who continued to refill my champagne glass despite my reluctance, it was a long, fun-filled evening complete with movie stars, champagne and dancing.
After the film ended, I hopped aboard the Arte yacht for the “Tehilim” afterparty then headed to the Roseraie for Chopard’s event. I stood outside slowly sipping my champagne as the catwalk unfolded before my eyes. Within seconds, every French actor/actress/major producer/director with a pulse walked by – my future husband Louis Garrel (sorry, Guillaume you had your chance), Juliette Binoche, Isabelle Huppert, Emmanuelle Seigner, Ludivine Sagnier – not to mention more famous directors than are probably present at an Oscars ceremony – Roman Polanski, Jim Jarmusch, Pedro Almodovar, David Cronenberg, Ken Loach, Amos Gitai, Olivier Assayas, and, of course, my best friend Brett Ratner. Not to mention Faye Dunaway, Josh Brolin, jury member Michel Piccoli, and the Fest’s very own Prince Thierry Fremaux.

My assessment of le bash:
"To each his own champagne" was the theme of the Festival de Cannes' 60th birthday bash on Sunday sponsored by Chopard, and Gilles Jacob made sure that the bubbly flowed after the cameras rolled. Following the official 60th anniversary ceremony and screening of "To Each His Own Cinema" and an official dinner, the best of the best of the world's directors and talent headed to Le Parc de la Roseraie to fete 60 years of Cannes with at least 60 famous faces present. A who's who of the Gallic big screen scattered throughout the large dome, some heading to the dance floor, but most chose to schmooze outdoors. With hostesses offering mini-desserts on silver trays and servers seeming to walk by with an endless supply of already-filled champagne glasses, the ambiance was just what you'd expect from an official celebration: mellow and tres, tres chic thanks to Chopard's elegant touch. The crowd was mostly French, with relatively no stars and stripes in sight. It was certainly a Gallic affair. The bash was short-lived, with most guests opting to jump into official black cars to head to after-parties at Jimmy'z and Le Baron 3.14.

Attendees: Thierry Fremaux put a pause in his hand-shaking to raise a glass with Roman Polanski, Faye Dunaway, Isabelle Huppert and Juliette Binoche. Guillermo del Toro guarded his signature smile as he awaited his flight back to Budapest to continue filming "Hellboy 2." Brett Ratner made an early "X"-it after the dinner, perhaps to avoid the late-night "rush hour" on the Croisette, and Josh Brolin also snuck out early. Jim Jarmusch added a bit of international flavor to the oh-so French evening complete with Ludivine Sagnier, Emmanuelle Seigner, "Lady Chatterley" Cesar winner Pascale Ferran and Louis Garrel, star of Christophe Honore's "Love Songs."

Cuisine: Guests ended the night on a sweet note with no salty appetizers offered. Desserts included Mini fruit cups, mini walnut tarts, mini lemon tarts and mini cream puffs.

Highlights/lowlights: Few Americans present. The parquet floors were easy to slip on and a corner area resembled more of a black hole than a dance floor.


May 21

As they say, when it rains it pours. And, while the sky remained blue all week and I got good use out of my new 5 pairs of Fendi sunglasses, there was quite a lot going on Monday night. After an accidental nap (I blame the previous six days of 2 hrs of sleep per night), I headed off to the CanalPlus patio for a delicious dinner overlooking the water alongside Gallic TV personalities and finished off with a delectable Tarte Tropezienne with fresh strawberries and a kiss hello from Alain Delon, equally as delectable.
I then headed to the 3.14 beach for the After “After Him” After party (say that 5 times fast) where I hung with the film’s director, the incredibly talented Gael Morel
(see: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/awards_festivals/cannes/features/e3ifa4ea4954736d9da18674a211123652f), the film’s stars Catherine Deneuve and Thomas Dumerchez and lots of fun “camp friends,” namely fellow journalists and industry execs who I get to see every year.
I then headed to the Baron 3.14 for the after party for Gus Van Sant’s “Paranoid Park” where Van Sant, the real Penny Lane, the film’s young stars and lots of important Frenchies (the film was produced by MK2) sipped vodka and champagne on one side of a velvet rope and other guests were anything but paranoid, showing their moves on the dance floor inside.
(Note: My invitation said “Olivier Assayas” whose name was crossed out and replaced with “Rebecca Leffler.” Fantastic.)

May 22

Tonight, I discovered that I am not indeed “Death Proof” and, after a week of extremely high stress, work and champagne levels, my body revolted against me and I was forced to give up my very precious invites to the Weinstein Company/TF1 bash for Tarantino’s film and do something shocking – go to sleep early.

May 23



May 24
I can safely say that I have absolutely no recollection of the day or night's activities. Oh la la la la la la...

May 25



May 26
The scene: The Martinez lobby
Quentin Tarantino: Your dress blends into the chair.
Me: Yup, I did it on purpose.
Quentin Tarantino: No really, it's the same design - crazy!

And to think there was a time when I attacked celebrities, now they're coming to ME!

May 27
At the summer camp I attended every summer since the age of 8, on the last night, we’d all gather around the fire and roast marshmallows, light candles, reflect on our memories from the summer and cry and hug a lot. The last night of Camp Cannes was sort of the same, only there was a chocolate fountain and a foie gras stand instead of marshmallows, there were photographers camera flashes instead of candlelight, and the only fire in sight were the flames of cigar lighters but there was still quite a lot of reminiscing and crying and hugging.
After 12 days, 22 Competition films and 60 years of the Festival de Cannes, Stephen Frears' jury reached its verdict and gave the coveted Palme d'Or to Cristian Mungiu's Romanian film "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days." Mungiu pretty much summed up my Cannes experience when he said: "It looks a little like a fairy tale.”
I was thrilled to see the second place Grand Prix go to Japanese underdog "Mogari No Mori" (The Mourning Forest), directed by Naomi Kawase, about an old man and a caretaker at his retirement home struggling to overcome the death of their loved ones. This film I thought was very underrated among critics, and really moved me.
Props to Julian Schnabel for being named best director for "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.” What can I say – he’s a New Yorker who made a French movie. Yay for New Yorkers and French films, what a winning combination =)
Turkey's German-born Fatih Akin won the best screenplay award for "The Edge of Heaven." Jeon Do-yeon's portrayal of a mother dealing with tragedy earned her the best actress prize for Lee Chang-dong's "Secret Sunshine," and Konstantin Lavronenko took home the best actor award for his role in Andrei Zviaguintsev's Russian entry "The Banishment."
The jury prize was split between Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud's "Persepolis" -- a black-and-white animated adaptation of her comic book about growing up during the Iranian Revolution -- and "Stellet Licht," Carlos Reygadas' tale of forbidden love among Mennonite farmers.

The jury gave its 60th Anniversary Prize to Gus Van Sant for his skater drama "Paranoid Park" "for his career and because he made a lovely film," Frears said.
I give the Best Acceptance Speech prize of the evening to Etgar Keret when he and co-director Shira Geffen accepted their Camera d’Or award, given to the best first film in selection, for their Israeli film "Meduzot" (Jellyfish). "I haven't felt anything like this since my Bar Mitzvah," Keret said.
Before presenting the prize for best actress, Alain Delon requested 25 seconds of applause for Romy Schneider, who died 25 years ago to the day. Alain and I go way back (see: May 21 entry).
"I'm told by you people who come here every year that this has been a terrific festival. On behalf of the jury, the films have been a pleasure to watch," jury president Frears said. After seeing pretty much every film in competition this year for le Grand Journal (yes, I cannot tell a lie. I chopped down the cherry tree and cheated for a couple of movies), I'd rephrase that to say "MOST of the films have been a pleasure to watch. Some have been quite frankly, TORTURE."
Here are the Palmes de Leffler:
Best Film: "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" (Julian Schnabel)
Best Actress: The female cast of Fatih Akin's "The Edge of Heaven"
Best Actor: Mathieu Amalric "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"
other honorable mentions: Naomi Kawase's "The Mourning Forest," James Gray's "We Own the Night," Gus Van Sant's "Paranoid Park," Wong Kar Wai's "My Blueberry Nights," and Christophe Honoré's "Love Songs"
Hottest actor award: Louis Garrel, "Love Songs"
Most hardcore actor award: Mark Whalberg (the artist formerly known as Marky Mark), "We Own the Night"
Actor with most charming accent award: Jude Law, "My Blueberry Nights"
Longest film ever in life award: "Zodiac," David Fincher
Most critically acclaimed film that wasn't actually very good award: "No Country for Old Men," the Coen Brothers
Most not talked about yet really wonderful film that deserves more credit award: Raphael Nadjari's "Tehilim"
Best 60th anniversary short from "To Each His Own Cinema" : a tough choice between Joel & Ethan Coen's humorous "World Cinema," Amos Gitai's moving "Le Dibbouk de Haifa," Nanni Moretti's personal, funny, very Italiano "Diary of a Movie-Goer," and Zhang Yimou's very cute "Movie Night." But My top prize is shared between Roman Polanski's "Cinéma érotique" and Walter Salles' "5.557 Miles from Cannes."
(honorable mention to David Cronenberg for "At the Suicide of the Last Jew in the World in the Last Cinema in the World" simply for the topic itself)
The awards were handed out at a gala ceremony presided over by mistress of ceremonies Diane Kruger (who arrived, as previously mentioned, with Canadian boy toy Joshua Jackson and the uber-fashionable Karl Lagerfeld) ahead of a screening of the Out of Competition film "Days of Darkness," directed by Canadian Denys Arcand. I only caught the last ½ hour and all I can say is that I hope the previous hour and a half are much better.
All of the important people (and me!) then headed to a closing-night dinner and soiree at La Roseraie. After attacking the – for a change actually quite copious and tasty – cuisine offered by the Festival (risotto, foie gras, mozzarella/tomato, some sort of fish and potatoes and hundreds of thousands of mini-desserts) I sat with my new best friend Gus Van Sant. Most people, when confronted with a Palme d’Or-winning, world-renowned film director might choose to discuss, say film, or directing. I, however, chatted with Monsieur Van Sant about the fact that New Jersey and Oregon (he lives in Portland) are the only two states in the US where its illegal to pump one’s own gas. Gus was very down to earth and friendly, and it was an added bonus that sitting next to him became an assembly line for the who’s who of international film talent all eager to meet Gus, and the mysterious girl talking to him. Maggie Cheung, Emmanuelle Seigner, Sarah Polley, etc. Actually, talking to Polley was definitely a highlight for me- I think she is one of the most talented actresses-turned directors out there. Her most recent film, just released in Paris and in NY, “Away from Her” is an emotional, terribly sad yet hopeful and well-done portrait of Alzheimers. Go see it if you haven’t. I congratulated Fatih Akin on his incredible film (which I think should have won the Palme d’Or mind you) and then spoke with Jia Zhang Ke, the cutest little man ever but better known for his directing career. I loved “Still Life” earlier this year. It was as if the entire past 12 days of my life were flashing before my eyes as the actors and directors from every competition film I’d seen walked by me. What a memorable evening.
Afterwards, I headed to the Baron beach for what I’ll refer to as the “who’s left” party – it was the strangest mix of people ever, pretty much everyone still in Cannes as the Fest wrapped, everyone from Rosario Dawson to major film execs to plebians such as myself. But everyone was raging until the very last minute, drinking and dancing until the party finally moved to the 3.14 hotel and I made my way back to my bunk/hotel.
Camp Cannes 2007 is over, but I can’t wait to head back next year for star-gazing, hiking (up and down the Croisette), barbecues and memorable evenings with the friends I look forward to seeing each year.
Au revoir!