The festivalâs director, Thierry FrĂ©maux, said he believes that these rules are needed to keep up Cannesâ long-established standards â and he is probably right. As maddening as all the dos and donâts might be, the worldâs most famous film festival would not be the same without them.
â NoSelfies
Anyone walking up the red carpet to a Cannes premiere in 2018 had to pass a scary sign that said, âPas de selfie et de photo sur le tapis rouge, merci!â Anyone who tried to snap a selfie anyway was pounced on by an even scarier security guard.
Wasnât that going a bit too far? Not according to FrĂ©maux, who decried the taking of selfies as a âridiculousâ and âgrotesqueâ habit that encouraged people to hang around on the red carpet, thus turning a carefully choreographed premiere into âa vast mess.â
Although the selfie ban didnât become official policy until 2018, FrĂ©maux announced in 2015 that he was âwaging a campaignâ against the practice.
That was the year I saw Salma Hayek emerging from a news conference, only to be accosted by a journalist (not me, honest) who wanted to take a selfie with her. âAw, I wish you could,â lamented Hayek, âbut Iâd get in trouble with Thierry. Sorry!â And with that, she ducked into a waiting Renault and was gone.
â High Life
Every year, the festival is chided for not doing enough to support women in the film industry, so it was unfortunate in 2015 that several women were turned away from the premiere of Todd Haynesâ âCarolâ â yes, a drama about breaking free of patriarchal control â because they were wearing flat shoes instead of high heels.
FrĂ©maux insisted on Twitter that any such stipulation was a mere rumor, and the festivalâs media office agreed that the dress code had âno specific mention about the height of the womenâs heels.â
But apparently, the officials outside the Palais des Festivals didnât get the memo. Asif Kapadia, director of the Amy Winehouse documentary âAmy,â wrote in a tweet that his wife had been barred from a premiere (although she was let in afterward) because her heels werenât high enough.
And Valeria Richter, a Danish producer, said that she had been stopped four times on her way into Gus Van Santâs âThe Sea of Treesâ â and that she had opted for flats because part of her left foot had been amputated.
Frivolous on one level and serious on another, the scandal gave newspapers an excuse to run glamorous photos alongside feminist think pieces, and the festivalâs organizers could enjoy all the free publicity while maintaining that they hadnât done anything wrong.
â Photogenic Photographers
If your shoes are deemed unworthy of the Cannes red carpet, you can console yourself with the thought that not only the celebrities must dress up for occasion, but also the press photographers who crowd the adjacent gantries. Yes, they, too, have to wear black tie.
Some male photographers have grumbled that their female counterparts can get away with wearing casual tops paired with black skirts or trousers, while the men have to sweat it out in bow ties and dinner jackets. But letâs be honest: This has to be the one and only film industry event at which the dress code is tougher on men than on women.
â Big Screen, Not Small
Bong Joon-hoâs âOkjaâ and Noah Baumbachâs âThe Meyerowitz Storiesâ were both booed at their Cannes press screenings in 2017 â but it wasnât because of the films, it was the Netflix logo that appeared before the opening credits. The issue was that Netflix films arenât shown in French cinemas before they go online, and so cinema-loving traditionalists (as well as cinema owners) were angry that Cannes was giving them houseroom.
Netflixâs argument was that, under French law, any film released in cinemas cannot be streamed for three more years â a delay that would wreck the companyâs business model. But Fremaux sided with the traditionalists. From then on, he said, no film would be eligible for the Palme dâOr or any of the festivalâs other prizes unless it was booked into cinemas shortly afterward.
Ted Sarandos, chief content officer for Netflix, responded by saying that, in that case, the company wouldnât bring its films to the festival at all, adding that Cannes had âchosen to celebrate distribution rather than the art of cinema.â
Sure enough, Alfonso CuarĂłnâs âRomaâ skipped Cannes in 2018 and premiered at the Venice Film Festival, where it did pretty well for itself. But Fremaux was unrepentant: âEventually we will understand,â he said, âthat the history of cinema and the history of the internet is not the same thing.â
â No Spoilers
Until recently, press screenings of the biggest films at Cannes were held in the morning, with their star-studded gala premieres in the evening. But, in the social-media age, that meant that a filmâs cast and crew would sometimes be forced to grin away on the red carpet, knowing that their labor of love had already been trashed by thousands of critics. (Have I mentioned âThe Sea of Treesâ?)
Last year was different. Press screenings were delayed until the premieres were underway, so that a bad review could not spoil the party. As FrĂ©maux put it, âThe suspense will be total!â
This year, the schedule is changing again, with some critics allowed into morning screenings, some allowed into afternoon ones â with no one allowed to breathe (or tweet) a word about the film before its premiere.
As ever at Cannes: You might not understand the rules of the game (or âla rĂšgle du jeu,â as Jean Renoir would have it), but you break the rules at your peril.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.