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| How
to Party Crash
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| Ladies, if you're on your way to one
of the big soirees being held on a private beach this festival, here's
a tip: grab a pillow – or a marine. It seems the only way to break through
the barriers and past security (who fail miserably at crowd control) is
for the person you're with to yell "pregnant woman." That, or jump in line
behind a uniformed serviceman and hold tight – and that's if you have a
ticket. If not, you better just forget the whole thing. Sceptical? At Friday
night's Fear and Loathing party – which is, by the way, an appropriate
name if ever there was one – it worked for some.
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| Talk about barbarians at the gate. Standing in line, or rather being
shoved, poked and stepped on, some hundred ticket-holders waited and waited
as security tried to manage the revellers through some studied shouting.
Claiming they were simply waiting until Harvey Weinstein, Johnny Depp,
Kate Moss, Julie Delpy and others made their exit, the Gallic gatekeepers
held everyone back including various studio executives and Jeff Goldblum.
So, what did Goldblum do? Apparently, he went down to one of the public beaches and slunk his way along until he made it to the Carlton. Copycat sneaks be advised: the sand is hell on your Pradas. Nancy Tartaglione |
Jeff Goldblum with AndresVicente Gomez |
| CRITICS' POLL
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is the most aptly titled film in competition
if the Moving Pictures' Critics' Poll is taken as the litmus test. The
response to Terry Gilliam's Hunter S. Thompson adaptation has been lukewarm
at best, downright dismissive at worst. (One critic
*****
Everyone passes through Euro-Tromaville in the Salon Esterel at the
Carlton, from Steve Tish and Quentin Tarantino (pitching some nonsense
called Forrest Gump or Pulp Fiction) to Michelangelo Antonioni and the
demented guy with the spinning eyeballs trying to sell us on a project
about the life of his pet hamster. We get to see it all, which gives us
the option of rejecting Forrest Gumps and Pulp Fictions and brilliantly
opt instead for Me and My Hamster, which will be ready for Cannes next
year.
The embarrassing thing is that the salad dressing is out-grossing my
films.
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