941-945

Chapter 941: Unexpected Twists

It was madness, complete madness.

In an instant, the press room turned into the height of summer—not just hot and stifling, but also with torrential rain, the buzzing of voices morphing into deafening roars that pounded the eardrums. The entire world seemed to spin out of control, as if everything was fast-forwarded at ten times the speed, turning the view into a blur.

People thought this year's Cannes Film Festival had already been wild enough, with films like The Elephant, Dogville, and The Brown Bunny stirring controversy throughout the ten-day event. There was never a dull moment. But who could have predicted that the biggest shock was still to come? The jury had been holding back, waiting for this moment.

No Dogville, no Mystic River—the two biggest, most anticipated films of the festival had both been eliminated!

Suddenly, things became unpredictable.

This! This was beyond thrilling!

So, who would win the Palme d'Or?

Karl Rivet could barely breathe: as long as it wasn’t The Cotelette Family, he would be content. That was his one humble wish.

His mind was a tangled mess, overloaded with information. He didn’t know how to react; his thoughts spiraled in all directions, unable to grasp any clarity. In the end, he clung to a single thread of hope, silently praying that Cannes wouldn’t turn into a disaster this year.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

A muttered prayer reached his ears. Karl looked over and saw Nicholas Flynn silently casting a spell—or so it seemed.

Wait, even The New York Times reporters do this?

Sensing Karl’s gaze, Nicholas looked up to meet his eyes.

Karl was stunned. “Not The Cotelette Family?”

Nicholas nodded solemnly, “Not The Cotelette Family.”

They exchanged a look and shared a knowing smile, refraining from further conversation as both turned their attention back to the TV screen.

The Cannes Film Festival doesn’t broadcast the awards live. The ceremony is kept simple—just the awards, all over in thirty minutes, unlike the Oscars’ four-hour extravaganza.

But in the press room, a TV screen was streaming the events from the Lumière Hall, allowing the media to follow the ceremony in real-time.

After a brief introduction, without small talk or formalities, jury president Patrice Chéreau announced the start of the closing ceremony and awards—

They dove straight into the awards, wasting no time.

The first award presented was the Jury Prize, which is essentially third place.

At Five in the Afternoon.

Huh.

A surprise right from the start, as many had predicted At Five in the Afternoon would win Best Actress or Best Screenplay. But it got third place?

Seriously? The official jury score was 2.5—how did this end up in third place?

Then again, Cannes had already been full of surprises, and the jury scores had lost their significance. No need to be shocked. If The Cotelette Family was sitting in the Lumière Hall, At Five in the Afternoon’s Jury Prize was already worth applause.

Besides, with five films competing for seven awards, at least two of them were bound to take home two trophies. So, no need to overreact.

Nicholas was the first to clap for At Five in the Afternoon, and after a slight delay, Karl joined in.

This was good news. Great news!

But—

This year’s Cannes was destined to be unusual. Even though everyone was mentally prepared for surprises, even though they expected the unexpected, the bombs kept dropping, each one more shocking than the last. It was more thrilling than a rollercoaster.

Best Screenplay: The Barbarian Invasions.

Best Actress: The Barbarian Invasions.

Best Actor: Far Away.

Wait, what? What just happened?

Surprise after surprise, to the point where people forgot to gasp.

No one expected The Barbarian Invasions to be the first film to win two awards—and not just a minor one, but Best Screenplay and Best Actress!

No one expected the Best Actor award to go to both lead actors from Far Away, beating Mystic River, The Elephant, and The Cotelette Family.

Suddenly, everything became even more complicated.

People had been predicting Far Away would win the Palme d'Or, but now that it had won Best Actor—especially a shared award—its chances of taking the top prize dropped significantly.

People had predicted The Elephant would win Best Actor and The Cotelette Family would take Best Screenplay, but those guesses were now completely overturned.

The European “Big Three” film festivals, with their small juries, are always unpredictable. The awards depend on the tastes of the jury and how well they argue behind closed doors—

Some jurors are great debaters and fiercely defend their preferences. If they love a film, it might just win.

Some jurors, on the other hand, are peace-lovers, with gentle personalities. They avoid conflict and let their voices be drowned out.

Sometimes, the jury president is a puppet, with no real control over the awards, like Isabelle Adjani. Other times, the president dominates the discussion, turning the jury into a one-man show, like Quentin Tarantino.

Anything is possible. The variables are endless.

Naturally, this makes it incredibly difficult for the media to predict the awards. Usually, once the closing ceremony starts and the jury summons the film crews, predictions become easier because—

Acting. Screenplay. Director.

These awards are relatively easier to predict. Once you know the winners in these categories, it’s a little easier to guess the top three.

But!

This year, all four awards that had been announced so far were upsets. It was one shock after another, leaving the entire press room stunned.

At this point, the five film crews called back tonight included The Elephant and The Cotelette Family, neither of which had won anything yet. And there were still three awards left:

Best Director, the Grand Prix, and the Palme d'Or.

How would they be divided?

Considering The Barbarian Invasions had already taken two awards, and At Five in the Afternoon had won the Jury Prize, the best possible outcome seemed clear.

The Cotelette Family would win Best Director, and The Elephant or Far Away would take the Grand Prix and Palme d'Or. Or perhaps The Elephant would win the Grand Prix, and The Barbarian Invasions would take the Palme d'Or.

This was the only acceptable outcome in this chaotic situation.

If The Cotelette Family didn’t win Best Director, it would mean the film would take either the Grand Prix or the Palme d'Or—

Was this some kind of Cannes horror story?

Come to think of it, Bertrand Blier had been in the industry for over forty-five years, and the last time he won an award at one of the European Big Three festivals was in 1989. If the Cannes jury awarded him Best Director in recognition of his contribution to French cinema, it wouldn’t be so hard to accept.

Especially compared to The Cotelette Family winning the Palme d'Or.

So, Best Director would be the best outcome. Yes, that’s it.

Given a choice between two evils, the lesser evil is clear. It wasn’t easy, but they found a way to rationalize it.

For a moment, the entire press room went silent. Everyone held their breath, and even their hearts seemed to stop.

*Chapter 942: A Heartfelt Moment*

Carl Rivett’s fingers were sore, and his entire body was tense. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, holding his breath.

Three hours earlier, if someone had told him he’d be praying with all his energy for the "Cottright Family" to win Best Director, he’d have thought they were crazy.

But now, that was exactly what he was doing—quietly praying to the universe. He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to hear the name "Cottright Family" called, just to get it over with.

The air froze for a moment.

Then, without building suspense, the answer came through the microphone:

“Gus Van Sant, Elephant.”

Carl: …

Nicholas: …

The entire press room was dead silent. The worst possible outcome had happened. Everyone was so shocked they forgot to congratulate Gus Van Sant, standing stiff like children frozen in a game of Red Light, Green Light, too caught up to break free.

No way!

Who could have predicted that the Best Director at this year's Cannes Film Festival wouldn't go to Lars von Trier, Clint Eastwood, or Nuri Bilge Ceylan, but to Gus Van Sant?

Who would have guessed that Bertrand Blier still wouldn’t get his award, and the Best Director prize would mysteriously go to Gus Van Sant? What kind of plot twist was this?

Elephant?

A film shot in mock-documentary style, Elephant winning Best Director? That’s a tough call.

Even the photographers on the balcony outside the Palais were stunned.

Emmanuel froze, while the photographers around him erupted into curses, confusion, and rage. It was chaos.

Though Emmanuel had never been to hell, this scene seemed close enough.

The entire night had been one shock after another, and now the madness peaked. The Cannes Film Festival reached its wildest point.

It wasn’t that Elephant was a bad film. In fact, people preferred it to win over the "Cottright Family." But with Elephant winning, the possibility of the "Cottright Family" taking the Palme d'Or was becoming too real, which was a sobering thought.

People forgot to congratulate Gus Van Sant.

At first, Emmanuel was just as stunned, thoughts racing through his mind. But seeing the scene unfold, he couldn’t help but smile.

From the way people were reacting, it looked like half of Cannes was protesting Gus’s win with their curses and fury. But only those in the know understood what was really happening.

It was hilarious.

This was absurd. Dark humor at its finest—true Italian comedy.

Meanwhile, inside the Lumière Hall, things were simpler. No time for calculations, no time for worries, no tricks or turns—just pure joy.

“Director!”

“Director!”

“Director! Ahhhh!”

Anson leaped to his feet, raising his arms high in celebration, beaming with joy, completely unreserved in his excitement.

Gus, confused, looked at Anson: Huh?

Anson didn’t answer, just smiled brightly, clapping his hands enthusiastically, ignoring the cells dying in his palms. He was giving Gus the best treatment in the simplest way possible.

Alex and Eric were both clueless.

Alex looked around and saw that many of the guests had stood up, so he quickly stood too, moving closer to Anson and asking in surprise:

“…Did we win?”

Anson nodded emphatically, “Yes, we won.”

Alex’s eyes widened in disbelief. He clapped clumsily, then looked at Eric, and the two of them started jumping and cheering.

No hesitation, no restraint—just pure joy.

It was this unfiltered reaction that showed the innocence of the group.

They weren’t actors, just regular students, a bunch of kids. Maybe they didn’t even know what award the movie had won, but whatever it was, it was worth celebrating.

This scene didn’t escape Nicholas’s eyes.

He was overwhelmed with emotion.

Nicholas realized that their obsession with winning had thrown them off balance. Instead of feeling unhappy about the "Cottright Family" winning the Palme d'Or, why not cheer for the work they loved?

The point wasn’t the award—it was that Elephant had won.

With that thought, Nicholas felt his mood lighten.

No matter what anyone else thought, for Nicholas, Elephant was the best film at Cannes this year, an undeniable masterpiece. Even if the final results were off, at least it had been recognized.

Wasn’t that enough?

It was worth celebrating, worth cheering for.

Nicholas put his fingers in his mouth and whistled in celebration.

“Woo, woo woo woo!”

Carl glanced at Nicholas, then back at the screen showing the Lumière Hall—

Gus, looking a bit shy and awkward, was a beat or two behind in his reactions.

Anson was the first to hug Gus, and Alex and Eric were jumping around Gus, cheering. Gus couldn’t help but smile as his lips curled up.

Simple, pure, natural enthusiasm.

Watching this, Carl let out a long breath and started clapping too.

No matter what, Elephant deserved it.

Clap, clap, clap!

The sound grew, building like a tropical storm.

It swept across the hall.

Under the spotlight, Gus took the stage. The shy director looked awkward, clutching the trophy as if it were a lifeline. He fumbled for balance, finally grounding himself a little.

He thanked Cannes, the jury, HBO... After a round of thanks, Gus stood there, paused, then continued:

“This movie started as just a thought, an idea. The fact that it turned into a film and made it to Cannes is thanks to the kids.”

“Thanks to them for opening a window and letting us see their everyday lives. They showed us what they’re going through, what they’re facing—the pressure and violence no one their age should have to bear. This is the world we live in. We may try our best to ignore or deny it, but that’s the reality.”

“So, thank you to them for their bravery, for reminding us of our own fear and cowardice.”

His words were a little dry, a bit hesitant. Clearly, there were many more thoughts in his head he wanted to express. But Gus couldn’t find the words.

After a brief pause, he awkwardly raised the trophy and gave a slight nod.

Then, he turned and left the stage.

His acceptance speech wasn’t flashy or showy, even a bit plain, but it carried the same emotional impact as his film, which used simple imagery to deliver powerful feelings.

This time, Carl didn’t hesitate. He clapped his hands hard, cheering for Gus—

We need filmmakers like this. Directors who use their cameras to capture life and society, beyond fame and fortune.

He turned and saw Nicholas clapping with a big smile on his face.

With a glance exchanged between them, both clapped harder.

*Chapter 943: A Shocking Upset*

Roar! Roar! Roar!

Anson was cheering and celebrating wholeheartedly. As Gus stepped off the stage, Anson eagerly approached him again, giving the director a warm hug.

Some might say, "Is this necessary?"

Since the Elephant crew was called back, it meant they were guaranteed an award. At this point, they were just going through the motions of accepting it. Was it really worth this much excitement?

Moreover, it was a director’s award, not an actor’s award. Why act so proud, as if the honor was personally his? There was no need, truly no need.

To such comments, Anson didn't even bother responding. You could tell right away that they were coming from someone who didn’t understand the industry.

Indeed, the three major European film festivals have awards for Best Actor and Best Actress, and if you include the Oscars, these are collectively known as the Grand Slam for actors. Any actor who manages to collect all four trophies earns the highest honor. To this day, only a handful of actors in nearly a century of film history have achieved such a feat.

This is undeniable.

However, that’s not the whole story.

What sets the three major European film festivals apart is their approach to directors and to the work as a whole, which is fundamentally different from the Oscars. At these festivals, the top prize holds the highest prestige.

The Golden Bear. The Palme d'Or. The Golden Lion.

These three trophies honor not just the director but also the actors, the script, and the entire film project, immortalizing it in the annals of film history.

The work is what truly matters.

Years from now, people might forget who the youngest Best Actress winner at the Berlin Film Festival was, but no one will forget A Separation reaching the top.

Years from now, people might forget that Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux jointly won the Cannes Best Actress Award, but no one will forget Blue is the Warmest Color taking the Palme d'Or.

It’s as simple as that—

Actors should naturally take pride in their work, at least at the three major European film festivals.

Here’s a simple question: if you had to choose between your film winning the Palme d'Or or you personally winning Best Actor/Best Actress at Cannes, which would you choose?

Without hesitation: the Palme d'Or.

So, when Elephant won Best Director, Anson was genuinely happy for Gus. Even though it wasn’t the Palme d'Or, it was a real recognition of the film, and it validated Gus’s creative vision.

It wasn’t just Anson; Alex and Eric were equally ecstatic.

When they returned to Cannes, they knew the film was 100% going to win something. But knowing is one thing; actually seeing Gus bring home a trophy was another. The joy and excitement were overwhelming.

Roar! Roar! Roar! Ahhh!

A group of young people were shouting and celebrating wildly, completely savoring the moment.

The guests in the Lumière Hall were also all smiles.

Even the shy and reserved Gus couldn’t help but awkwardly wiggle a bit. Just a little though, before he quickly covered his face and waved off the attention.

Haha.

Laughter rippled through the crowd, the atmosphere light and joyful.

Finally, the group settled into their seats, and Anson reminded himself:

The climax of tonight’s award ceremony was still to come, with two major trophies left to be awarded.

"Anson..."

From his right, someone called his name. Anson turned slightly.

Alex seemed a bit nervous. "Anson."

He called again, and this time Anson turned to face him, noticing Alex’s flushed cheeks and the bright light in his eyes, a product of his excitement.

Noticing Anson’s gaze, Alex quickly looked back toward the stage. "I want to become an actor."

Dreams often sprout in the simplest of moments.

When he acted in Elephant, Alex had been nonchalant, showing little interest. But now, the aimless years of youth had found a guiding light, illuminating the path ahead.

Of course, Anson knew how difficult it would be. Every day, thousands of young people flock to Los Angeles with dreams of becoming actors. Yet only a tiny fraction ever make it.

But, so what?

Youth is for taking risks. Besides, you have to dream—what if it comes true?

At least Alex was already ahead of most other young people:

He’d acted in Elephant and walked the red carpet at Cannes.

"Welcome to Hollywood." Anson smiled at Alex.

Alex nodded eagerly, his eyes once again fixed on the stage, filled with stars and oceans of possibilities. He could hardly contain his excitement as the entire hall held its breath—

The Jury Prize was about to be announced.

Everyone held their breath.

If—just hypothetically—if The Cotlet Family took home the Jury Prize, though it would still be hard to accept, at least it wouldn’t be the Palme d'Or, right?

Plus!

That would mean the Palme d'Or would go to a film other than The Cotlet Family and At Five in the Afternoon, perhaps even The Barbarian Invasions, which had already won Best Screenplay and Best Actress. That would make sense—at least more so than the alternatives.

After all, the Palme d'Or, Jury Prize, and Jury Award are meant to honor three different films. It’s only natural for three different films to win.

After a brief moment of celebration, the tension returned.

Hearts pounded—

Thump thump thump, thump thump thump.

Even though only a second or two had passed, it felt like an eternity. Just before everyone collectively stopped breathing, the answer echoed through the speakers.

“The Jury Prize goes to... Distant...”

Buzz...

There was a persistent buzzing in their ears, as if all sound had vanished, leaving only the flatline of a heart monitor after it stops beating.

Distant—it was Distant!

A shocking upset!

The film that seemed most poised to win the Palme d'Or had unexpectedly come to a halt, only managing to secure second place with the Jury Prize.

Objectively speaking, Distant was only the third film by director Nuri Bilge Ceylan. His previous two films had been in competition at the Berlin Film Festival—one in the Youth Forum, the other in the Main Competition. This time, his entry into Cannes earned him both the Jury Prize and Best Actor—

The latter being a rare double win.

Such accomplishments were eye-catching and certainly deserving of applause.

Yet at this moment, the entire press room was in shock, as if they had been dragged into hell.

Despair.

The results were now clear.

Jury Prize: Distant.

Jury Award: At Five in the Afternoon.

Best Director: Elephant.

Best Actor: Distant.

Best Actress: The Barbarian Invasions.

Best Screenplay: The Barbarian Invasions.

Out of the five recalled crews, The Barbarian Invasions and Distant each took home two awards, emerging as the biggest winners, with Ceylan becoming a standout figure among a new generation of directors. Elephant claimed Best Director, marking yet another milestone in Gus Van Sant’s career.

And then...

Then, The Cotlet Family won the Palme d'Or. Everyone’s worst nightmare was coming true step by step. After all, of the recalled films, The Cotlet Family was the only one left without an award.

People speculated that Jury President Patrice Chéreau was trying to secure an award for his fellow Frenchman Bertrand Blier, as Blier’s career was nearing its end, and without this, he might never receive a lifetime achievement award.

But no one imagined it would be the Palme d'Or.

Wasn’t this prize a bit too heavy of a gift?

*Chapter 944: A Dramatic Turn of Events*

Deep breaths. Another deep breath. He tried his best to control his racing heart.

But it was no use. His heart kept pounding, feeling like it was about to explode.

Nicholas tasted bitterness in his mouth.

He thought he had come to terms with it all—remaining calm and collected, accepting that whether it was the jury or the official festival catalog, they only represented a small group’s aesthetic tastes. It didn’t have to perfectly align with his own, and the opposite was true as well.

He had tried to keep an open mind, truly immersing himself in the festival’s atmosphere. There was no need to obsess over the awards like with the Oscars. The real focus should be on the films—that’s what a film festival is really about.

Yet here he was, unraveling—

Falling apart.

Nicholas took another deep breath, trying to convince himself not to let bias cloud his judgment. There was no need to be so harsh on The Cotrell Family.

Unfortunately, he failed.

Nicholas didn’t like The Cotrell Family, not because of the 0.3 rating in the official catalog, but because he couldn’t comprehend how this film made it into the main competition. To him, it was a complete farce.

The truth was, Bertrand Blier, now in his later years, had seen his creative abilities decline dramatically. His comedies had devolved into chaos, and the quality of his films had plummeted.

It was what it was. Plain and simple.

But now?

The Cotrell Family had not only made it into the main competition but was called back on the final day, just one step away from winning the Palme d’Or.

The very thought made Nicholas’s stomach churn.

He wanted to throw up.

And it wasn’t just him. The entire press room felt the same.

Sighs. Groans. Shouts of disbelief filled the air—

Some stood staring at the TV screen, unable to believe their eyes, as if they could burn holes into it; others were tugging at their hair—whatever was left of it; and some stormed through the press room like enraged dinosaurs.

Some quietly stepped outside to light a cigarette; others gulped down whiskey for courage, sat in front of their laptops, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but their minds were blank.

It was all different, yet the shock was universal.

Nicholas noticed Carl’s stunned expression and gently patted him on the shoulder.

Startled, Carl finally remembered to breathe.

Taking a deep breath, though his flushed face wasn’t likely to calm down anytime soon, Carl rubbed his face and struggled to find the right words.

“The Cotrell Family... it’s not that bad...”

But the sentence never finished. Carl just stared blankly at Nicholas.

Nicholas shrugged, “Just admit it, The Cotrell Family is awful.”

Carl gave a bitter smile. “So, has the Palme d’Or ever gone to a film that ranked at the bottom of the official catalog?”

Nicholas stroked his chin, “Huh, I haven’t thought about that. Might need to dig through my memory. Worth researching.”

Carl chuckled. “So, would it be better if the Palme went to The Cotrell Family or The Brown Bunny?”

Nicholas’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Now that’s a good question.”

So, were they finding humor in their misery?

At that moment, a ripple of disturbance spread through the room like a wave.

“Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!”

Someone in the crowd couldn’t hold it in any longer, muttering angrily as they stormed out of the press room, unwilling to witness this moment in history.

And it wasn’t just one or two.

Once the first person left, a small group followed, their frustration and anxiety fuming like hot air, ready to set the dry paper in the room ablaze.

True, they were journalists, and they had a job to do, but was there really any reason to stick around?

Not really.

After the brief storm, those remaining in the press room couldn’t help but sigh. They couldn’t blame those who had left.

Refocusing, one by one, they started typing away, getting back to work.

From a movie lover’s perspective, this was a complete disaster; but from a journalist’s perspective, they were about to witness history:

Patrice Chéreau and his jury were about to award the Palme d’Or to The Cotrell Family, the lowest-rated film in the history of the Cannes official catalog.

At the same time, five films would share seven awards, with The Barbarian Invasions taking both Best Actress and Best Screenplay, and two winners sharing Best Actor. Bold, unexpected decisions were made at every turn, shattering expectations.

This year’s festival was different.

Just as everyone was debating whether the highest-rated film in the catalog deserved the Palme d’Or, the Cannes jury was about to make history by going the other way entirely.

It was clear that after tonight, the global film community would be in an uproar.

Nicholas took another deep breath and got to work.

Fingers hovering over his keyboard, he gathered his thoughts.

“Controversy.

That is the one word that defines the 2003 Cannes Film Festival. It’s both positive and negative, as Patrice Chéreau’s jury leaves history with a question that only time can answer...”

Click-clack.

Nicholas’s mind raced. Though he was frustrated, angry, and disappointed, he managed to focus, channeling all those emotions into his writing.

On the TV screen, Patrice Chéreau took the stage.

No ceremony, no skits, no breaks. One award after another was being announced, with the Palme d’Or coming up next.

But there was no suspense.

Not just in the press room, but in the Lumière Theatre as well—

Using a process of elimination, everyone knew the answer. All eyes were on Bertrand Blier. This extraordinary Cannes Film Festival was about to conclude in an extraordinary way.

The Palme d’Or, one of the highest honors of the European film festivals, is a career-defining achievement for any filmmaker.

The room buzzed with anticipation.

The guests weren’t even paying attention to Chéreau. Instead, all eyes were on Blier.

Even Alex and Eric, two outsiders, sensed the tension and glanced at Anson, but now wasn’t the time for explanations. Anson signaled them to be patient, then turned his gaze back to the stage.

Under the spotlight, Patrice Chéreau could feel the room’s restlessness. The attention that should’ve been on him had shifted, but he remained calm and composed, like a serene Buddha.

He went through the motions, giving a brief speech and symbolically opening the envelope. Even though everyone knew the answer, the ceremony had to play out. Otherwise, it would lose its flair.

Procedure mattered.

But unlike the Oscars, there was no drawn-out drama. After a simple breath, Chéreau revealed the winner.

"...Palme d’Or goes to Elephant."

Chapter 945: Heart-Pounding Explosion

"...Palme d'Or, 'Elephant.'"

Patrice-Xiahou's voice echoed through every corner of the Lumière Hall and the press room, revealing the ultimate suspense.

Clap, clap, clap.

Applause erupted, and all eyes discreetly turned toward Bertrand-Brialy. No matter what thoughts they harbored, at this moment, congratulations were in order—basic etiquette could not be forgotten.

However...

Bertrand stood with an unhurried expression, calmly smiling in another direction and applauding—Gus Van Sant.

Wait, what?

The brain froze, unable to process. Who... what just happened? Didn’t Patrice just announce the winner?

One by one, people looked at each other, confused.

Nicolas froze, his brain halted, but his fingers still worked the keyboard, recording the remaining thoughts until his mind went blank, and his hands stopped.

Stunned, Nicolas felt that something was off.

Next to him, Karl's voice broke the silence. "I think... I just heard Patrice say 'Elephant'... could I be wrong?"

Nicolas jolted.

"Elephant."

Yes, "Elephant"—no mistake.

The 2003 Cannes Film Festival's Palme d'Or winner was not The Cotillard Family, but Elephant!

History!

They were indeed witnessing history!

Patrice-Xiahou's jury made a bold statement of artistic integrity, refusing to settle or compromise. They followed their own vision, completely disregarding the official festival ratings. They selected only four films out of twenty from the main competition to receive awards.

Just four films, dividing seven awards among them.

Stubborn, willful, even brutal.

But at the same time, resolute, rational, and sharp.

Respect.

Patrice-Xiahou's jury voiced their artistic opinion with a clear, bold stance. And the ultimate touch: awarding the Palme d'Or to Elephant, perfectly encapsulating their artistic manifesto.

Art, born from reality and elevated above it.

Elephant, filmed in a pseudo-documentary style, cleverly portrays societal issues through a seemingly ordinary day at school. The film never explicitly discusses elephants, but each viewer can feel their presence. No one can continue pretending they don't see it.

Rough, minimalist, yet achieving the profound effect of "hearing thunder in silence."

When viewers thought Gus Van Sant was irrelevant, it was a testament to his directorial success—much like Abbas Kiarostami, blurring the lines between reality and film, seamlessly shifting between drama and truth, showing the true power of cinema.

This is more significant than the film's theme of school violence.

After Good Will Hunting, Gus Van Sant had delved deep into the realm of art films, refining his style. It's no wonder Thierry Frémaux personally invited Gus and HBO to bring Elephant to Cannes.

Of course, the film’s theme—both shocking and thought-provoking—left a lasting impact. Compared to the controversies of this year's Cannes entries, Elephant stood out as a true catalyst for reflection.

Boom. Boom, boom, boom—

Did you hear that?

It was a silent thunderclap, the proclamation of the 56th Cannes Film Festival.

Wow.

Nicolas was overwhelmed, finally realizing what had happened. He stared blankly at Karl, feeling a roar build up in his chest.

Ahhhh!

In the next moment, Nicolas heard his own voice echoing in his ears, pulling his body back to reality with the force of gravity.

"‘Elephant,’ Palme d'Or! Ahhhh!"

Nicolas completely lost it.

The entire press room followed, descending into chaos.

Compared to The Cotillard Family winning the Palme d'Or, Elephant claiming the prize was like a miracle, transforming despair into joy in an instant.

Ahhhh, ahhhh!

A wave of heat surged from the Palais des Festivals, rolling out in an unstoppable rush.

The journalists who had just left the press room paused, immediately noticing the tremors coming from the building. The world itself seemed to be shaking.

The earth trembled.

Wait, what happened? If The Cotillard Family had won the Palme d'Or, there wouldn’t have been such a reaction. Did something change?

Hearts tightened.

Could The Cotillard Family have been a red herring?

In previous years, it wasn’t unheard of for a recalled film crew to leave empty-handed, serving as mere placeholders.

If Patrice-Xiahou’s jury had only recalled four crews, Gilles Jacob and Thierry Frémaux would surely have been in a difficult position. Bertrand-Brialy, the French director still in Cannes, probably wouldn’t mind helping out. After all, the old man had seen it all—fame meant little to him at this point. Sitting there all night as a decoy would be no trouble at all.

That would explain the media’s confusion.

So, if not The Cotillard Family, then who?

Steps halted, and rumors spread in the heated atmosphere.

Elephant, Palme d'Or!

Emmanuelle spun around to look back at the Lumière Hall. Even through the walls, the madness inside was palpable.

Cheers. Applause. Screams. Whistles.

A surging wave filled the room, shaking the entire building.

An ocean of fervor.

Gus Van Sant stood bewildered, having no idea what had just happened. Hadn’t Elephant already won Best Director? That was more than enough, and he hadn’t even had time to process the joy. So what was happening now?

"Anson?"

Gus turned to Anson, seeing the radiant smile on his handsome face as he yelled with all his might.

"Palme d'Or, Director! The Palme d'Or!"

Gus blinked, nodding. "Oh, oh, so...?"

Anson pushed Gus toward the stage, clapping behind him and encouraging him with his eyes.

Gus took a couple of confused steps toward the stage, then stopped, turning back.

Anson: ????

Without thinking, Anson noticed Gus still holding the Best Director trophy. He quickly reached out to take it, clearing Gus’s hands to accept the grander Palme d'Or trophy.

But Gus beckoned Anson to join him on stage. Turning around, he saw Alex and Eric, equally bewildered.

The two were frozen in shock.

Because the entire audience had risen to their feet. Though there were no spotlights, the ecstatic, excited gazes were more blinding and intense than any light, swallowing them whole.

They were speechless, as stiff as wooden stakes.

What... was happening?