This year's Cannes Film Festival is noticeably lacking something: star power. While Jane Fonda, Demi Moore, and John Travolta still grace La Croisette, the absence of major US studio premieres is palpable. Gone are the blockbuster debuts of yesteryear, replaced by a desperate call from festival director Thierry Fremaux to Universal for last-minute A-list magic, which arrived in the form of a 25th anniversary screening of The Fast and the Furious.
For some, this signals that Cannes has lost its magic. Normally the pinnacle of the film industry calendar, the festival feels different this year. The mood on the ground is subdued, with a slower run-up to bigger films that usually dominate the first week. Yet, the same glitz and glamour still exist on this tiny patch of the French Riviera, as it has nearly every year since 1946.
Dame Joan Collins lit up the red carpet at the opening ceremony, and Scarlett Johansson and Michael Fassbender are expected to attend to support their upcoming projects. While walking along La Croisette, I bumped into Zendaya's stylist, Law Roach, who enjoys a bit more anonymity here, particularly among older crowds. He told me he was winding down after a busy day and preparing to host a party with Magnum.
Beyond the A-listers, however, a nagging feeling persists that the atmosphere is much more muted. One director, a 10-year veteran who wished to remain anonymous, remarked on how much quieter the streets of Cannes are. While still crowded, it's not the Oxford Circus levels of previous years. They also expressed dissatisfaction with the film lineup, noting that Cannes is often a soft launch for awards season—last year, 19 Oscar nominations went to films launched here, including Sentimental Value, The Secret Agent, and It Was Just an Accident.
'They can be a bit s**t,' the director said. 'I think there's definitely a type of film one can get tired of seeing after 10 years. Most of the films are not the best, but I've probably seen some of my favorite films here.' One year, they joined a random queue and ended up seeing Debra Granik's Leave No Trace. 'I went in with no expectations and was blown away by something unbelievably powerful and moving. Another nice thing is seeing films you'd otherwise be uninterested in, in the setting of the Grand Theatre. Like that year I saw Star Wars [Solo]. It's a pretty s**t film, but seeing it like that was f**king cool.'
What has dulled the festival's sheen? 'As glitzy and glamorous as it is,' the director explained, 'you can't escape the fact that it's fundamentally a marketplace, and the whole thing feels unbelievably corporate. Even the 30-pound glasses of rose at the Carlton feel like they're for businessmen in suits rather than film people.' This sentiment about price gouging is shared by locals. I asked an ice cream parlour worker if he enjoys this time of year. 'Do you want the truth?' he asked before bluntly responding: 'No.'
Straight 8 festival organiser Alex Glynn is not as worried about Hollywood's diminished engagement but agrees that things have steadily declined. 'I feel like there are a lot of screenings and events over the years that feel like they could have more soul.' Some in the industry point to another shift: the growing presence of influencers. Cannes has always struggled to balance cinema at its heart with the need for social media visibility. The appearance of the likes of Molly-Mae Hague at previous events has frustrated cinema buffs.
This year, the festival has partnered with the owner of Facebook and Instagram, bringing TikTok influencer Reece Feldman to the red carpet again to conduct interviews on his Ray-Ban Meta glasses, alongside other content creators. Notably, a beach party that is normally hard to get into had no queue and plenty of room inside. It made me wonder if there's been more control over invitations, more chaos behind the scenes during an uncertain year, or if influencers were simply put off because it wasn't as 'showbizzy' as usual. Thankfully, the anti-influencer rule of 'no red-carpet selfies' stands firm.
There are still, of course, die-hard Cannes fans. They lurk around the Palais des Festivals, dressed in black tie, hoping to score a last-minute ticket for a premiere. I spoke to a pair who had been waiting for two and a half hours. With just half an hour until opening, they hadn't given up hope. One told me they bagged plenty of tickets using this 'begging on a placard' method last year, though they had to flip a coin when only one managed to get a ticket the previous night.
This leaves me wondering whether Cannes can hold its place at the centre of the film world. I'm not convinced it's over—but, as my director source put it: 'I highly doubt it.'
