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Megalopolis, the film I was most excited about, had one last screening. E, Z, and I hadn’t seen it and thought we’d leave Cannes without it. Then a new, 9:30 am showing popped up.

We didn’t have tickets, but this was a high-priority showing: we decided to pull an all-nighter. We got to Agnès Varda at 4:30. There was only one guy ahead of us. It was dead quiet. 

By 8, the line stretched far.

Then things turned. A festival worker announced a second line—if you didn’t have a bag, you could skip ahead. People who’d just shown up now strolled right past us.

Four hours meant nothing.

When the gates opened, I sprinted. Through security. Up the stairs. A blaze of wild movement. 

Somehow, we found 3 adjoining seats. We’d made it. 

Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling: Cannes never cared if we did.

Cannes (Part IV), May 2024
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