By Lubna Abdel-Aziz Once Cannes could, and once Cannes did. Now at age 60, the years are showing their wear and tear in form and substance. Resplendent in its Mediterranean lustre, Le Festival International du Film de Cannes, has for half a century reigned supreme in the cinematic realm, the second oldest festival (1938), the oldest being Venice (1932). It was here that all the cinefiles came to see the most important movies in the world. Cannes became a popular venue for film producers to show and sell their new movies to theatre owners, and distributors who descended on the famous Croisette from the four corners of the globe. The parade of some stunning semi-nude starlets added to the glitz and glitter of the singular event on the Riviera and to the massive media exposure that is now part of the Cannes folklore. In an effort to shed an image of flirtatious, frivolity, Cannes began to concentrate on selecting special films that determine a country's image, honouring its budding filmmakers and nurturing genuine efforts to produce ideal "art" cinema. This was the birth of the auteur movement that swept Cannes off its feet, as it fell head over heels in love with les filmes d'auteurs, director/author films, usually conceived, written, directed, sometimes even photographed by one individual. Like any ageing starlet however, Cannes is simply ageing badly. Oblivious to its many wrinkles, it remains shamelessly defiant against the march of time. The result, as now seen at 60, simply makes her look even older, and only a face lift, some hormonal boost, or even a shot of stem cells can revive this ageing beauty, or it will soon fade. "Sundance", "Toronto", and the other younger film festivals are waiting in the wings, ready to dethrone her. Will Cannes allow it, after this year's feeble display? Cannes' contribution in years past has been immeasurable, catapulting to the public's conscience, the worthy creations of such directors as Japan's Kirosami, India's Stjajit Ray, Iran's Abbas Kiorostami, as well as many others from Europe and the US. While that was a worthy cause, it began to lose its appeal as Cannes developed a tunnel vision to all else but les filmes auteurs. The number of auteurs increased as quality and substance diminished. Unseen art is useless, especially a viewer's art. In order to fulfil its purpose of elevating, educating and enriching, it needs to be seen. Films that see no light, fulfil no mission. As for the slogan "Art for art's sake", well, it is just that, a beautiful slogan. Art for the millions inspires and empowers, as it hands its legacy from generation to generation. The 60th birthday bash (16 May) at Cannes was somewhat of a letdown. The numbers were still up, 8,800 motion pictures, 900 films in different categories, the official competition had 200 films from 12 different countries. Some 76 countries participated in competitions, 4,000 journalists attended, with 266 TV channels, and 1700 media representatives. This year's annual Cannes party was less than spectacular. To inaugurate the festivities, Cannes officials chose Hong Kong director Wong Kar Wai. It was the wrong choice. Wong, who wooed and won Cannes' heart since 1987, has become a perennial favourite. In 2000 he blew away critics with In the Mood for Love and in 2004 with 2046. Last year he served as jury president, and was invited back to kick off the 2007 festival opening with his first English-spoken creation whichwas given a less than lukewarm reception. Year after year, Cannes has been bull-dogged in her endless homage to "auteurism". One look at the 22 films in Competition from 12 countries is indication enough. Its oui, oui, oui to any directeur/auteur's highly personal work, is a pitfall. Such films follow the continuity of previous works, perhaps unbeknownst to the viewer. The public can seldom relate to these efforts, in theme, style, or story. Besides Wong Kar Wai, Cannes invited her standard favourites from France, Russia, Turkey, Mexico, Japan, and the US. All US entries were eerily familiar, David Fincher, Zodiac, the Coen brothers Ethen and Joel, No Country for Old Men, Quentin Tarantino Death Proof, Gus Van Sant Paranoid Park, and James Gray We Own the Night. Three of the American directors have been bestowed the coveted Palme d'Or in past years. This year's Palmares (May 27) was handed to " 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days " by Roumanian director Cristian Mungiu. While magnifisantly acted, depicting universal challenges of human existence, it was achingly painful to viewers and critics. So have been previous choices by inept juries in past years. Steven Soderberg's Ocean's 13 made its debut at the palm-lined resort, and its star-studded cast was this festival's highlight on the red carpet. Brad Pitt was accompanied by his jolie Angelina, who promoted her Out of Competition A Mighty Heart, directed by Michael Winterbottom. Past Palmares winner Michael Moore was back with " Sicho ", his version of the complicated American healthcare system. Why should the world care? Beating on the same theme of endless criticism of every aspect of life in the US, makes viewers suspicious and uneasy. Perhaps he should consider living elsewhere! One auteur/directeur worthy of note is award winning Serbian director Emir Kusturica, whose competition entry Promise Me This was a popular media event but was no winner. The film is set outside of Belgrade, where an old man prays for his son to go to the city and bring a wife. Emir Kusturica with his impressive string of internationally acclaimed features is seen as one of the most creative directors in cinema of the 1980s and 1990s. Besides several prestigious awards, he is one of the few directors to win the Palme d'Or at Cannes twice for When Father was Away for Business (1985), and Underground (1995). On 10 Feb 2007, Kusturica received France's highest order in recognition of significant contributions to the arts, Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. The cooling romance may have already started between Cannes and auteurism. Perhaps at 61, Cannes will appear younger, more magnetic and magnanimous. She may now say non, non, non, to most of her auteurs, and return back to where she once was, combining fresh faces with established masters and presenting once again a diverse and colourful spring bouquet worthy of its fragrant Mediterranean home. There are no rules in filmmaking. Only sins. And the cardinal sin is dullness
