936-940

*Chapter 936: Stealing All the Attention*

With just one appearance, he effortlessly stole all the attention.

A suit, once again a suit—the thousandth and first suit, offering no novelty. Yet, because it was worn by Anson, even a conventional suit came alive.

The design was tailored and detailed, with precise and perfect cuts that showcased proportions and lines flawlessly. The subtlety couldn't hide its rock 'n' roll vibe, a blend of elegance and rebellion that instantly signaled it was Dior.

And Dior, once again, belonged to Anson. Hedi Slimane's designs only truly came to life on Anson, capturing the spirit of the design.

Defiant and proud, rebellious and sharp, yet there was a hidden resilience beneath the slender frame. Every move exuded a fatal attraction that held all eyes firmly.

Low-key yet flamboyant, rebellious yet fragile, simple yet luxurious.

How such contradictory qualities blended and became so natural on Anson, transforming into a different kind of vitality, was a mystery.

Moreover, it wasn't just about the look or the design. Fashion once again became an extension of the film—

Following the premiere, Anson was further blurring the lines between the movie and reality, bringing the character into real life. More shock, more impact, more thought—the red carpet became a part of the movie itself. Just one appearance, and memories of "The Elephant" flooded back.

The storm simply couldn't be stopped.

Involuntarily, everyone held their breath.

Simultaneously, cameras clicked like mad.

On the red carpet, there was a moment of silence, with only the chaotic shutter sounds filling the air, echoing loudly, showcasing a different facet of the red carpet.

Anson did it again—

After sweeping the opening and the premiere red carpet, he dominated the closing ceremony.

And he breathed life into Dior.

He made people truly understand why Anson was Hedi Slimane's muse. Only when Dior was on Anson did it become perfect.

It made people yearn.

Everyone wanted to be Anson, as if wearing that suit would transform them into Anson, giving them confidence and the power to change the world.

This was the true fashion icon, whose every move held unparalleled influence, ascending to the pinnacle.

Involuntarily, a surge of excitement filled the air.

Emmanuelle's fingers trembled as she continuously pressed the shutter. Despite being mentally prepared and having expectations beyond measure, being present at this moment and seeing Anson's appearance in person made that joy and excitement erupt like a volcano.

She loved her job.

Click, click, click—the shutters roared, creating the most wonderful symphony.

Gus turned around and saw that figure amidst the dazzling flashes, letting out a long breath. He quickly stepped aside and waved, signaling Anson to come over.

In the blinding light, Anson noticed and couldn't help but smile as he walked over, leisurely patting Gus on the back.

"Director, enjoy. Enjoy it to the fullest."

However, before Gus could respond, the flashes on the red carpet erupted with an incredible force, filling the space with a deafening roar.

Boom, boom, boom.

There was no need for Gus to reply. Looking at this crazed sea of people, he shrugged lightly. This was far more persuasive than words.

Anson laughed outright and turned to look at the stiff Alex and Eric.

Before Anson could ask, Alex took a deep breath and mouthed, "I'm scared."

Anson's eyes overflowed with amusement as he surveyed the surging crowd, "Me too."

Alex was stunned, and so was Eric.

Seeing this, Gus couldn't hold back and burst into laughter.

Click, click, click—the flashes roared, making the world spin.

Words weren't necessary to feel it; Cannes was once again enraptured by Anson. Yet, unlike the opening and the premiere, it was hard to tell if it was the movie, fashion, or Anson himself that captivated everyone. This exclusive town was quietly changing.

"Anson, Anson..."

"One more, Anson, just one more."

"A glance over the shoulder, Anson!"

Heart-wrenching, hoarse shouts filled the red carpet, an unceasing frenzy.

Typically, Anson didn't like staying too long on the red carpet: posing, changing angles—didn't it all look the same in the end?

But tonight, Eve instructed, "Stay a little longer, not too long, just a little bit"—

Firstly, to thank Hedi Slimane for standing by Anson's side and speaking out for him during difficult times.

Simultaneously, to show the Dior management the impact Dior had on Anson at Cannes. Even without an endorsement contract, Dior shouldn't miss this rare opportunity.

Secondly, it was for "The Elephant." Regardless of what happened at the awards ceremony tonight, whether the history Anson knew would continue as expected, as Eve said, they needed to start planning the film's release, promotion, and distribution.

A little more exposure would only help.

Especially for an independent art film like "The Elephant," which didn't have the budget for a premiere and didn't need one. Film festivals were the best platform to promote it, and the crew should seize the opportunity at Cannes to maximize its influence.

So.

Even though Anson thought the red carpet could end, he endured it and stayed a little longer.

He looked ahead to the side and noticed Alex, with a smile creeping up on his lips—

Alex was standing on the steps with his arms outstretched, taking a selfie.

This wasn't yet the era of smartphones, and selfies weren't popular. Even with a portable digital camera, selfies weren't that easy. So, Alex wanted to capture this moment with his camera, which was an interesting idea but indeed difficult, making him scratch his head.

Alex was considering whether to ask Eric or Anson for help, but a nearby photographer couldn't stand it and offered to assist.

Alex's smile fully bloomed.

It seemed Alex was finally starting to enjoy all this.

However.

At that moment, a tall, burly security guard in a black suit suddenly intervened. Without a word, he looked ahead without exchanging glances with Anson. He just extended his right arm to protect Anson and urged him to move forward—

Pushed.

It wasn't an exaggeration. The black suit was clearly exerting force, preparing to use brute strength to make Anson move.

Anson: ???

*Chapter 937: Vase Discrimination*

Anson: ?

What's going on?

Honestly, Anson still trusts others' professionalism. Just because he hasn't noticed anything doesn't mean nothing is happening. He knows he still lacks experience. Now, seeing the black-suited guard on high alert, Anson becomes vigilant as well, following the guard's gaze to scan the crowd.

Looking left, then right, Anson confirms there's nothing unusual around the red carpet. The journalists haven’t broken through the barricades, nor have any fans breached the security. All the other black-suited guards, media, and festival staff are calm, and there are no other film crews around. Everything seems normal.

So, what's going on here?

Is this guard just pretending to be a "bodyguard"?

Anson found it amusing. He patted the guard's arm and joked, "Relax, relax!"

However, the guard didn't turn his head, refusing to make eye contact or offer any explanation. He just shoved Anson up the stairs like he was herding chickens.

Something was off.

Caught off guard by the shove, Anson stumbled a step. Instinctively, he moved aside, stepping away from the guard's burly arm.

Suddenly, it felt like a crisis.

If this were a Hollywood movie like "Mission: Impossible," the guard would whip out a knife and stab Anson in the heart.

Then... there'd be no more story.

But this isn't a Hollywood movie.

The guard sensed Anson's resistance and the sharp, piercing gaze. Finally, he turned to Anson and said, "You've had your time. You should leave now and give the space to the real actors."

Anson: Huh?

What did he mean by that? What does he mean by "real actors"?

This story was starting to resemble a French comedy.

Anson didn't want to speculate on others' attitudes, especially since security was just doing their job, and he tried to cooperate as much as possible.

But what was with the disdain and contempt in the guard's eyes?

What, are "vases" not allowed on the red carpet? Or is there a time limit for how long they can appear at the festival? Or are they outright banned?

Unintentionally, Anson laughed.

It wasn’t a mocking laugh but a sincere one.

During his days in Cannes, Anson truly felt the festival's grandeur, everything centered around movies—a true haven for cinema.

Of course, there were also some hostile attitudes because Anson is a "vase." "Vase = brainless." They didn't think Anson understood movies, or even believed his opinions were worth sharing, listening to, or discussing, showing disdain in their words and rejecting him outright.

But Anson didn't mind.

Having been through social media trolls and overwhelming online hate in a previous life, these attacks were like water off a duck’s back.

Anson's attitude remained calm. If they wanted to talk, he was open to dialogue. He might not be a master debater, but he wouldn't back down. If they were blinded by prejudice and refused to open their minds, he wasn't about to waste his time on them.

Anson didn’t care about being labeled a "vase" and didn’t consider it shameful. He also wasn't looking to please everyone or expecting everyone to like him.

Attending the festival for the first time, he came to soak in the atmosphere and experience the movies.

But he never expected "vase discrimination" to happen right on the red carpet—

In front of everyone, under the spotlight.

That was certainly a surprise.

So, did this guard think that the presence of a "vase" sullied the red carpet at the Palais des Festivals? Or did he believe that the "vase's" appearance lowered the festival's standards?

If he truly felt that way, he should address those who selected "The Elephant" for the competition. He should confront the jury who invited the "The Elephant" crew back.

But clearly, he didn’t dare.

So, he took it out on Anson, the "culprit," an easy target.

Unfortunately, Anson was not an easy target.

Anson directly laughed and looked at the guard confidently. "What if I refuse?"

The guard was taken aback, not expecting Anson to push back. Those clear, bright eyes looked straight into his own without flinching.

Calm, straightforward, and decisive.

The guard, on the other hand, felt a pang of guilt and avoided Anson's gaze.

Suddenly, he was enraged. The guard didn’t say anything else but raised his hands, ready to use force.

This time, Anson wasn't so obedient. He blocked the guard and firmly pushed his right arm away. "So, does Cannes have an official rule on how long someone can stay on the red carpet? How many minutes exactly? I'm all ears."

Not arrogant, not humble, not rushed, not slow.

Anson didn't make a scene, but he also wasn't going to let it slide.

The guard was stunned, a flicker of frustration and anger in his eyes. He barely managed to keep his composure and didn't directly respond to Anson's question, instead insisting, "You should leave."

Anson was thrilled, smiling brightly. "Says who, you?"

People often think that "vases" have a good temperament. It's not that they actually do; it's the PR image. They're reminded repeatedly by their agents and PR people to behave because if word gets out that a "vase" is being difficult, they'll get torn apart by the public.

But that doesn't mean "vases" don’t act up. They just do it behind closed doors, out of public view.

Now, in front of everyone, Anson wanted to see what it was like to "act up."

It was a bit thrilling.

Standing his ground, Anson smiled without raising his voice or making any aggressive moves. His clear blue eyes looked straight ahead, calm and composed.

Guard: Um.

He was stuck. His anger was now beyond control. He raised his right hand again, intending to use force. But Anson didn't back down; instead, he took half a step forward.

However, he didn’t strike. He just stared right back at the guard.

The guard's movements froze, his hand stopping in mid-air.

And just like that, the atmosphere became tense.

Click, click...

Camera shutters and flashes went off like a storm, capturing every moment of what was happening. Anyone who wasn't blind could see that something was going on.

Moreover, it was clear Anson was the victim.

But what's the actual situation? Why was that guard pushing Anson to leave the red carpet?

Damn it.

"Let him stay."

"Anson!"

"Let him stay!"

Emanuel hadn’t anticipated this scene at all. She was still trying to figure out what was happening when voices started erupting around her. She looked around in confusion, noticing that her colleagues all wore expressions of frustration. She quickly caught on—

Tonight's award ceremony was full of surprises, and all the unpredictability was making everyone uneasy. They finally found a focal point, only to encounter this kind of situation. Emotions were spiraling out of control.

"Let him stay."

One voice after another, the calls began to merge into a swelling chorus, the whole place becoming charged.

This scene was something no one had expected to happen.

So now, what kind of movie is this? An Italian absurdist comedy?

---

*Chapter 938: Calm in the Face of Danger*

On the red carpet, tensions ran high.

On both sides of the red carpet, the crowd was in an uproar.

The chaotic scene unfolding before everyone's eyes was entirely unexpected; the closing ceremony and awards presentation had suddenly morphed into something straight out of a movie.

Though the events seemed to stretch on for an eternity, it had only been twenty or thirty seconds—yet, in that time, the heated atmosphere had already engulfed the entire venue.

The tension reached a stalemate.

Thierry Frémaux: "Damn it!"

In 2001, the Cannes Film Festival underwent a significant leadership change, hoping to redefine its competitiveness in the new century.

Gilles Jacob, the former artistic director, was promoted to festival president, and Thierry Frémaux took over the role of artistic director.

Neither Cannes nor Thierry foresaw that this collaboration would spark a profound change, marking a turning point for the festival.

Over the next two decades, Thierry would serve as the artistic director, responsible for selecting films and shaping the direction of each year’s competition and artistic endeavors.

Under his leadership, Cannes struck a delicate balance between art and commerce, helping the festival outshine both Berlin and Venice, solidifying its position as the most prestigious film event in Europe and globally, with influence rivaling the Oscars.

The name "Thierry Frémaux" would become synonymous with Cannes.

Of course, this was just the beginning for Thierry. He was still finding his footing, and his handling of situations was not yet as polished as it would become later on. He still had an air of inexperience.

Upon hearing about the situation on the red carpet, and with the jury and president already on stage to begin the awards ceremony, Thierry had no choice but to take action himself.

He stormed out, cursing under his breath.

This year’s main competition at Cannes had been fraught with controversy, drawing criticism from all sides. The last thing they needed was another incident, another scandal, placing the festival at the center of a storm of public scrutiny.

In a whirlwind, Thierry burst out of the Lumière Hall.

Bang.

He pushed through the glass doors and immediately saw the tense standoff. Without a second thought, he looked to the black-suited security guards.

"Get him out of here."

The security guards froze, looking at Thierry: Who?

Thierry felt his frustration rise. "Your colleague. The one acting like a runaway train."

The black-suited guards moved in like Agent Smiths from The Matrix, surrounding Anson and the security guard. They pulled the guard away.

The guard was about to resist, but when he turned and saw Thierry, his shoulders slumped instantly. Yet, the French pride in him made him defiantly shout at Thierry.

"This is a temple of art! We shouldn’t let clowns and eye candy in here. It’s a disgrace, an insult to cinema and to Cannes!"

Thierry didn’t even spare him a glance. With a look, he signaled the other guards to contain the situation and minimize the damage.

The guard was dragged away.

Thierry appeared in front of Anson. "I apologize."

That was grace.

No questions asked, no excuses made. Thierry took responsibility immediately.

Even though Thierry was the powerful artistic director of the Cannes Film Festival, a figure whom directors and actors alike would bend over backward to please, his apology was delivered without hesitation or reluctance. In an instant, he had the situation under control.

No wonder Thierry would go on to become the most influential figure at Cannes for the next two decades. You could already see his commanding presence.

It was, indeed, intriguing.

Anson looked at Thierry, the agitation in his chest settling down. He smiled and, with a trace of curiosity, said, "You don’t even know what happened."

Perhaps Anson had been at fault.

Thierry smiled warmly. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we ensure every guest who comes to Cannes enjoys their time here. If we failed in that, then we, as hosts, are at fault."

"Apologies."

In just two sentences, Thierry apologized a second time.

And Anson noticed something—Thierry didn’t refer to actors, directors, participants, or even guests. He said audience.

The subtle use of a single word set the tone for the entire conversation.

Anson lifted his chin slightly. "I’ve very much enjoyed my time at Cannes."

Thierry raised an eyebrow imperceptibly. "Including now?"

Anson chuckled. "Including now."

Thierry looked at Anson deeply, then stepped aside with a gesture of invitation. "Then, please continue enjoying yourself. This is your time."

With that, the crisis was neatly resolved.

Thierry turned to leave, but after taking a few steps, he stopped and glanced back at Anson, admiration evident in his eyes.

Elephant—a film Thierry had personally chosen for the main competition.

Initially, HBO hadn’t even applied to Cannes because they had considered it a TV movie project, but Thierry had heard about the film.

He had always been a fan of Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho, a film that had skipped Cannes and premiered at Venice, where it was critically acclaimed and earned River Phoenix the Best Actor award.

Thierry was less impressed with Good Will Hunting, which had been selected for competition at the Berlin Film Festival.

When Thierry heard that Gus was working on another low-budget independent film, he reached out to see if Gus would consider premiering it at Cannes that year, especially since the lineup had been rather underwhelming.

HBO sent the film to Cannes, and it was thus included in the main competition, to Gus's surprise.

In Elephant, Thierry had been deeply impressed by Alex and Eric’s performances, while Anson’s had seemed average. Perhaps the rave reviews for Spider-Man and Catch Me If You Can had set his expectations too high.

However, today, Thierry saw Anson in a whole new light.

He knew that Anson could have made a scene or used the opportunity to express dissatisfaction.

He also knew that, even if Anson had chosen not to escalate the situation, he could have demanded an explanation and lodged a formal complaint, as was his right.

But Anson did none of that.

He had handled the matter with decisiveness and grace, helping Thierry defuse the situation before it could spiral out of control.

That kind of composure and character was impressive.

This young man was destined for greatness.

Thierry had originally planned to offer Anson some words of caution before the press got hold of the story after the ceremony, but now, it seemed there was no need to add anything more.

Thierry gave Anson one last glance, satisfied, before turning and walking away.

He felt confident this wouldn’t be Anson’s last time on the Cannes red carpet.

Chapter 939: Absurd Comedy

As it turned out, Thierry was right.

The closing ceremony and award presentation were still ongoing when media reporters, through reliable sources, had already gathered some inside information. By piecing it together with what they witnessed firsthand, the truth emerged—

That security guard clearly wasn’t happy about Anson stepping onto the red carpet and becoming the center of attention.

A film enthusiast and advocate of the arts, this guard came to work at Cannes but eventually couldn’t tolerate the absurd sight of a “flower vase” destroying Cannes' artistic heritage. His emotions overtook his rationality, leading him to act impulsively and unprofessionally.

This… was very French.

Clearly, Anson was the victim.

But the point is, the position of this victim was somewhat awkward too.

How should a “flower vase” react to those contemptuous stares? And how should one defend themselves?

Anson was very calm and honest about it.

“To be honest, I’m not surprised. This isn’t the first time I’ve been embroiled in controversy at Cannes. The difference is, before it was all verbal attacks, but this time, it’s physical.”

Ha ha ha.

The reporters burst into laughter. Anson had cleverly poked fun at the French film enthusiasts’ passion, and given Anson's reputation during his time at Cannes, the irony was doubled.

“But who could blame him? I’ve often wondered why I’m here myself. Oh, right, I’m accompanying the director.”

“I guess even artistic films need a little ‘flower vase’ now and then. Come on, French folks, you love movies, but I believe cinema can’t simply be divided into commercial and artistic films, right?”

“Hey, only Hollywood does that. You don’t want to stoop to that level.”

Ha ha, ha ha ha!

Thunderous applause and nonstop laughter.

It was hard to imagine such a tricky situation could be handled so lightly by Anson, with wit and humor that made people want to applaud.

In just a few remarks, he poked fun at French cinephiles while also taking a jab at Hollywood films. Clearly, he knew all too well how French art film lovers felt about Hollywood. With ease, he turned the whole incident into something completely different in tone.

Brilliant!

As the Cannes Film Festival came to a lively close, the “flower vase discrimination” incident on the red carpet became a hot topic—

Some attacked Anson, saying he deserved it, and that a “flower vase” shouldn’t be at Cannes in the first place.

Some praised the security guard as a passionate, sincere individual.

Others protested, saying Anson had done nothing wrong, that he brought his work to Cannes' main competition and deserved every bit of his treatment.

Amidst all the fuss, Anson’s response to the press was widely praised. His confident, humorous, and composed manner, from how he handled the incident on the red carpet to his post-event press conference, showcased grace under pressure, earning admiration.

The controversy gradually faded away in the hubbub of praise and amazement, becoming a trivial part of the narrative. Instead, it became part of the publicity that only enhanced Anson’s image.

Thanks to this incident, the news from the closing ceremony’s red carpet flooded the media, and Anson’s third outfit of the festival once again dominated the headlines. Cannes, yet again, went viral in an unexpected way, though the promotional effect was undeniably perfect.

No one saw that coming.

In fact, there was no need to wait for feedback from netizens. The reaction from reporters on the red carpet already showed a clear trend:

They were charmed by Anson.

After Thierry left, Anson lingered on the red carpet for a little while longer—

Not too long.

Alex and the others were worried about Anson’s condition. Despite Anson repeatedly assuring them he was fine, even the usually easygoing Gus was shaking his head.

If they stayed any longer, they might start swearing in front of the press.

Before things got out of hand, Anson led them into the ground floor of the Palais des Festivals, leaving all the photographers’ lenses behind the glass doors.

However—

On the red carpet, the air still buzzed.

By all accounts, reporters aren’t particularly fond of “flower vases.” They may not hate them, as humans are visual creatures and naturally appreciate beauty. But neither do they admire them, as there’s often some prejudice involved.

Yet, having just seen the black-suited security guard trying to forcibly remove Anson, the reporters felt uneasy, with one after another voicing support for Anson.

Why?

Clearly, the reporters had selectively forgotten that just ten days ago, before “The Elephant” premiered at Cannes, they were all mocking Anson for “delusionally thinking he could transition so easily.” And now, they were defending him.

The reason wasn’t complicated—

When people crudely define someone as a “flower vase,” things seem simple. A flower vase is just a pretty face. But once you peel back the label and truly get to know them, you realize there’s a real person behind the image, with edges, depth, and a soul.

Over the past week, that’s exactly what Anson had shown at Cannes.

A person with independent thoughts, sharp edges, and a real soul underneath the “flower vase” label, not all that different from you or me. So when people mindlessly attacked Anson again, what popped into their heads wasn’t a mere “flower vase,” but a person of flesh and blood.

Quietly, the image in their minds had changed, without even realizing it.

“At least he has his own views on cinema. He’s not just an empty-headed pretty boy.”

“Say what you will, but he’s still easy on the eyes.”

“I think those prejudices need to stop.”

“Can I just say it? I thought his performance in ‘Catch Me If You Can’ was brilliant.”

“At least he has good taste in picking films, even with something as light as ‘The Princess Diaries.’”

“So what if he’s a flower vase? At least he owns it.”

“Hey, ‘The Elephant’ is a good film. And the fact that he chose to work with Charlie Kaufman shows he has taste.”

The hushed discussions on the red carpet continued, even after the cast of “The Elephant” had disappeared. The lingering sentiments were still palpable—

Unanimously, and overwhelmingly, in support of Anson. This was something the black-suited security guard never could have imagined—his reckless act had become Anson’s ticket to gaining more fans.

This...

It wasn’t until the event staff urged everyone to leave, signaling the end of the red carpet, that the reporters snapped out of it, finally pulling their thoughts away from the buzz and surprises.

Emmanuel began packing up his gear, heading to the outdoor terrace on the side of the Palais to await the awards ceremony's conclusion, where all the winning teams would gather with their trophies to face the flashing cameras.

Wait!

Emmanuel stopped in his tracks. Something wasn’t quite right—

They had missed something.

Anson’s appearance, the red carpet surprise, and “The Elephant” cast’s prominence were undoubtedly impressive, but why did it feel like this wasn’t the end?

Was that feeling normal?

Chapter 940: Can’t Laugh

Sometimes, there's a feeling that nags at you, like you've forgotten something important but can't figure out what it is no matter how hard you try. You stand there, racking your brain, but nothing comes to mind. That feeling is truly annoying, yet you're helpless against it.

Just like now.

Immanuel felt a bit melancholic. She knew something was off but couldn't pinpoint the reason. She wrestled with her thoughts, but there were no results. Just as she was about to give up, she heard other photographers exclaim:

"What about the Mystic River crew?"

Immanuel gasped, and suddenly, all her thoughts flooded back. The next second, other photographers around her snapped out of their daze too. They had all been distracted by the unexpected red carpet event and had completely forgotten about another important matter.

Where was Clint Eastwood?

Initially, everyone thought the Elephant crew would be the second-to-last to appear, leaving Mystic River as the final one. Given the prestige of the cast, everyone assumed that this would be the big finale of the night. It made sense—considering the star power of the cast, the film seemed destined to claim the top awards.

But now, the event staff were announcing the end of the red carpet?

What does that mean?

…No way.

Elephant was the last crew, and Mystic River hadn't been recalled.

What was going on?

The photographers exchanged bewildered looks, thoughts racing. Immanuel glanced around and saw the same dumbfounded expressions on everyone’s faces.

The entire day, there hadn't been any official news about Mystic River being recalled. The journalists had just assumed it would happen based on previous years and the fact that the crew was stationed in Cannes. Plus, Mystic River ranked third in the official magazine, so naturally, they concluded that the jury wouldn’t overlook it.

But what if... Mystic River was never meant to be recalled?

So—

That meant that tonight, only five crews were recalled, and these five would compete for seven awards. At least two films would walk away with multiple prizes.

Including The Cotwright Family.

Wow.

Everyone gasped. Their minds went blank.

Patrice Chéreau was stirring the pot—big time.

This was the real Italian absurdist comedy, wasn’t it?

As they exchanged glances, no one knew how to react. They needed a moment to process this.

For months, the media had been complaining that the quality of the films in competition was underwhelming. None of them were exceptional, and many were downright awful, making the entire experience unbearable. Critics, distributors, filmmakers—everyone had the same opinion, and even the film market had been sluggish.

Given the poor quality of the lineup, it was admirable that the jury refused to fill all seven slots with mediocre films. They had stuck to their standards. Even if one film won multiple awards, it was better than giving out prizes just for the sake of it. The jury members clearly valued their reputations.

Seven awards, six films—including The Cotwright Family. It didn’t seem too bad, and maybe there was even a glimmer of hope.

But now, the situation was different.

Seven awards, five films, and still The Cotwright Family. The entire landscape had shifted, and no combination of winners could ease the anxiety that was building.

No one could laugh anymore.

Looking at it another way, it wasn’t just about Mystic River being snubbed. The real shocker was that, even in a lineup of such poor quality, the jury had completely ignored the top-rated films from the official magazine, refusing to recall them or compromise. While the decisions left many scratching their heads, you couldn’t help but admire the jury's integrity. They were making a bold statement.

Patrice Chéreau, as the jury president, was truly a French director. He made his opinions clear and refused to budge. If he didn’t like something, that was that. His strict approach to art was on full display.

But still—

The Cotwright Family? Was this a joke?

Despite the respect and admiration Chéreau had earned, a sense of dread crept in. If he genuinely liked The Cotwright Family, there was a chance he might award the Palme d'Or to a film that scored 0.3 in the official magazine.

The thought made their stomachs churn. Even the possibility of it had the reporters ready to lose it.

In an instant, the red carpet turned into chaos.

One moment, the media was still buzzing about how well the red carpet scandal had been handled. The next, they were panicking, feeling like their minds were about to explode.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The area outside the Palais des Festivals was like boiling water, bubbling with excitement and noise. It hadn’t been this lively during the entire festival.

Immanuel looked around. Amid the shock and confusion, there was something oddly amusing about the situation. This was Cannes, after all. Even the reporters had momentarily set aside their usual sensationalism to focus entirely on the films. Their passion for cinema was on full display. Any small development related to the films caused a massive stir.

Even the photographers weren’t immune.

They, too, sincerely wanted to see great films recognized, to nurture the growth of more artistic cinema. Their desire for this was pure and simple.

Yet, Cannes being Cannes... it wasn’t the first time they’d seen such a scene.

Controversy, even provocation—this had always been the Cannes way. It was also how the three major European film festivals approached art.

But still... what happened to Mystic River? Did Clint Eastwood really deserve this treatment?

Anyone who truly knows cinema would understand that Clint Eastwood is a classic conservative. His films often carry strong personal messages, quietly expressing his values. The major European festivals, on the other hand, tend to lean more liberal. Despite his many nominations over the years, Clint had never won at one of these festivals.

However, Mystic River was a bit different. Its themes and storytelling diverged from Clint’s usual style. The old cowboy, now in his seventies, had softened. He was reflecting on life, on childhood, and this transformation was evident in his direction.

If Dogville was too provocative, too sharp, then surely the gentleness of Mystic River deserved recognition. And if Elephant was recalled, then why not Mystic River or Dogville?

Besides, in yesterday’s Directors’ Fortnight, Mystic River had won the top prize, the Carrosse d’Or. That was a significant honor.

It was the first time in Clint Eastwood’s four visits to Cannes that he had been acknowledged.

And yet, here in the main competition, Mystic River was left out again.

It didn’t make sense. It just didn’t.

The chatter wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t just the red carpet. Inside the press room, the journalists quickly learned the news. After a brief moment of shock, everything started to make sense, but the reality was still hard to accept. Soon, the room was filled with frantic energy.

A single stone had caused a thousand ripples.

Is it okay to swear now?