1996 Cannes Film Festival Diaries
Diary #7: Not One to Poo-Poo Cannes

by Leslie Rigoulot

I'm going to have to invent some really great story about spraining my ankle and wrist in Cannes. After all, hundreds of magical stories are being shown, written and otherwise bandied about in this beautiful city. So what is one more fanciful tale. You see, Steve Buscemi and I were plotting a pivotal shot for his follow-up to "Trees Lounge" and I fell out of a palm tree... No, I don't climb trees. Okay, Al Pacino and I are so engrossed in conversation about his "Looking for Richard" that I misstep off a curb and....No, that isn't exciting enough. Spike Lee and I get into a heated discussion about my opinion of "Girl 6" and he takes a swing....too libelous. Kate Winslet and I are posing for a photo when the stage collapses....that would have made headlines. Kenneth Branagh and I are out for a night on the town and I've had a little too much to drink when Emma Thompson attempts a reconciliation....highly unlikely.

So the truth is that after a late night screening I'm walking home from the Noga Hilton when I'm suddenly on the ground. As I try to get up I realize that I've been undone by the French love of dogs and the lack of a pooper scooper. I limp home to the comfort of the Hotel Touring cursing my trainer who warned me not to hurt myself. That's like telling the quarterback not to drop the ball. The shower having been designed by the same guy who did the toilets on airplanes, I lean precariously and notice the lump rising on my wrist. All will be better in the morning I blindly assure myself.

But it isn't better in the morning and I limp to the doctor's office that the hotel staff has been kind enough to direct me to. There are no lengthy forms to fill out, just a prescription for anti-inflammatory, pain pills and x-rays. The only problem is I can't find the radiologist's office. As I get in the elevator after discovering that the office has been moved 10 blocks, I am outraged to find I've broken a finger nail. That is it! I'm going home. I'm retreating from the battlefield and taking a medical discharge.

I choose from the list of 40 movies as the flight attendant refills my champagne glass. "Mighty Aphrodite" unspools on my video screen and I decide that when I return to the Cannes Film Festival things will be very different: half as many clothes, twice as much money and some heavy duty credentials.