Cannes is a fight. It’s a long, unfair and exhausting battle against a tough guy: an unbeatable giant who, ironically, you always wanted to meet. Your adversary is a sixty-two-year-old piece of culture and if you are not a professional wrestler then you are definitely going to lose. In fact you are fighting with a myth: not a historical or cultural one, but a personal one. Although you can be hypnotized by the luxurious buildings and publicity banners around you, or feel seduced by the sound of the sea, Cannes is not a paradise. It is more than that. Cannes is real; the world stops when this show begins, and your personal battle ends when all the lights turn on.

Cannes is a pagan spectacle and cinema is a God, but not the only one. Cannes is a sanctuary by the sea, and the sidewalks are full of pilgrims in the search of one instant of spiritual bliss. I wanted to join them, but, I’ve just realized… I no longer believe. I think it’s a curious religion (or a curious God) because it constantly makes you observe the mechanism of its power. It’s a big production machine at work. This machine sells prestige and produces art at the same time. There are no secrets in this religion. What’s left, then? Many other things: success, exquisite films, aesthetics manifestos, new filmmakers to be discovered, new talents to pay attention to, great comebacks, and ravishing performances. Tradition, contemporary spirit, the illusion of knowledge; this is the cinema business in its most elaborate form - and one of the most astonishing revelations I’ve ever had. I’ve suddenly grown up, older and wiser now, but as I said before, no longer a believer.

Enrique Vivar