By Pamela Collins
Alexandria, VA – Somewhere between Prince and Princess cobblestoned streets of Old Town Alexandria, and nights sharing Aperitifs and stories at Ramparts “L” shaped bar, where everyone not only knows your names but their phone numbers, an idea simmered.
Marcus, the ‘Last Word’ columnist, always entertained a desire to write for film. So, with the new title of “International Bureau Chief,” and a press pass in hand, he decided, with the help of his champion advisor wife, that it would be fun to crash the Festival de Cannes.
We wouldn’t have to sneak in through the service entrance or hide behind some potted plant. We had credentials. We had ambition. And we had a dark drawer full of Marcus’ screenplays just waiting for their moment in the sun.
Why not go? Maybe meet a few people. Maybe sell one of Marcus’s scripts that have been lounging in that dark bottom drawer like forgotten unwatered houseplants. Worst case? We could walk a red carpet, soak in the glitz, and enjoy an overpriced glass of wine and gin and tonic.
Of course, navigating the Cannes accreditation process via a French website—especially with the English translation button—was like trying to have your cat do your taxes, where you only get frustrated, angry, and covered in scratches. The effort proved only slightly less maddening than moving to France. Then came Cannes minus the little black badge that was truly the golden badge to get in, and to have access to the stars, writers, and directors themselves.
Here’s the thing. Sometimes, life opens a tiny door when you show up with big dreams and a laminated press badge. And sometimes, it opens a red velvet rope. In our case – not this year.
If one of Marcus’s screenplays ever hits the big screen, it might have to be titled “Lost in Translation: Cannes Edition.” Because, friends, we missed the entire first week of the festival. You know, the week when everyone was there. And not just your casual B-list crowd. We’re talking Tom Cruise, Quentin Tarantino, Robert De Niro, and Angelina Jolie – stars whose names even your mom knows.
We did see Wes Anderson, and Jodie Foster, and ate lunch near Benedict Cumberbatch.
Day one of the festival kicked off with France’s beloved Gérard Depardieu being sentenced in court on sexual abuse charges—a dramatic kickoff if there ever was one. And if that wasn’t enough, the festival announced that women were no longer allowed to wear long trains or show nudity on the red carpet.
Halle Berry was one of the premiere judges. She gained some notoriety at the 2025 Met Gala, wearing a provocative black gown with sheer paneling, and reportedly, no underwear. Cannes no longer allows nudity on the Red Carpet – not for modesty, but supposedly as a sign of respect. Also, in the last few years, influencers hogged the red carpet with their gowns trailing behind like wild bridal trains designed to block the spotlight from actual movie stars. Red carpet real estate has become competitive. Cannes, it seemed, was not immune to influencer culture. They wanted to try to stop it this year.
Alas, our red carpet moment never materialized, even though we followed the fashion rules and covered up. Our photo moment came in front of Campari’s red-themed beach setup. Shot “not by a professional photographer” but by a bartender walking by, pausing mid-step to see if we wanted another two drinks for 65 euros. NOPE!
Along with the rest of the gawking crowd, we huddled behind the barricades like eager paparazzi without cameras. We carried only our outdated iPhones, competing with other iPhones. We watched as limousines rolled up, releasing movie stars and film attendees.
Surprisingly, the crowds weren’t as huge as you’d expect. Most people seemed to be strutting on their own imaginary red carpets through the streets of Cannes, dressed to impress, and starring in whatever cinematic masterpiece was currently playing in their heads.
The missed moments, miscommunications, and Festival rule changes aside, there’s something electric about Cannes. It whispers, “You belong here.” Even if you’re fumbling your French. Even if you showed up on the wrong week. Even if your outfit is more thrift store than couture. Even If your dreams are not about making it into the Hollywood Walk of Fame. What is important is daring to show up at all and trying to follow your own star.
Of the amazing filmmakers present, the dreams that come true will probably come to your attention during the Academy Awards.
And who knows? Maybe next year we’ll arrive on time With a film or at the very least, a press pass to get interviews and photos. We could have an updated iPhone on the inside of the fence or maybe even on the Red Carpet.
Pamela Collins is guest columnist this month for The Last Word. The former Alexandria resident is the wife of Marcus Fisk. She is the author of The Innkeeper’s Diary and is working on her next book, Wisdom in the Woods, the story of two young girls who meet an enchanted healer in the woods in 18th century France.
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