Upstairs and downstairs at the Cannes Film Festival
We’re no strangers there, but a local film has yet to compete for the Palme d’Or, writes
charming the film buyer downstairs have no time to admire the works of wonder that have been masterfully curated by Thierry Frémaux and his team in the competition upstairs.
Instead, they are peddling what is assumed the best their country or company has to offer during the 10-day market.
When it comes to being downstairs, South Africa has been “in Cannes” for more than a decade. When it comes to upstairs, we have yet to receive an invitation.
The branding that the Cannes Film Festival offers to a filmmaker selected for the compe- tition is career-defining.
Being the darling of Cannes — or its rival, Venice — is what any filmmaker could spend all their lives hoping to experience. These festivals celebrate the art of cinema. They are mandated to highlight and identify the voices in cinema that are taking the art form to new places.
Members of the general public are not invited. Every person who is “in Cannes” has registered as a delegate, buyer or guest and carries a badge around their neck. Spare tickets to competition films are ultrarare. There are celebrities on every corner, yachts battling it out like pirate ships for preferred spots offshore, and the long promenade famously known as The Croisette is host to the world’s film press and home to the makeshift stalls of the national film bodies from dozens of countries.
As a filmmaking country, our history is quite impressive — it spans nearly a century, which is longer than most. We have become a shooting paradise over the past decade and much of this influx of Hollywood business is thanks to a favourable tax rebate, excellent crews and fantastic natural landscapes.
However, it is well known that our produce is not as impressive as our kitchen.
The National Film and Video Foundation will take six new South African films to the market. The foundation’s recently published audience research data revealed that most South Africans would choose a DVD at home over a cinema, find no real fault with South African films, and that the preferred languages were Zulu, English and Afrikaans, in that order.
If you have been to the cinema recently you may have noticed that Afrikaans films have taken up permanent residency. Afrikaans filmmakers have found a small oasis of fame that generates very impressive box-office results from titles such as Pad na Jou Hart, Faan se Trein, Klein Karoo and Ballade vir ’n Enkeling. This sector of our business is kept afloat by private TV channels such as kykNET. As for films in other indigenous languages, audience support pales in comparison.
Historically, access to skills development and training — especially for directors, writers and actors — suffered the same racial prejudices that stunted the development of many aspects of our society. The foundation’s survey suggests that more South Africans want to watch films in Zulu than in Afrikaans, yet only one film made in Zulu was theatrically released last year, Hard to Get. It was barely seen by anyone.
In many parts of the world, such as Egypt or Iran, cinema has its place as an agent of social change. Cinema is the grand equaliser and pastime that unites a country or even just a small town, but most all of cinema is a business. The numbers, more than ever, dictate what is shown at your local theatre.
Last year’s Palme d’Or winner, Winter Sleep, by Turkish auteur Nuri Bilge Ceylan, is yet to legally reach our shores. How does an aspiring filmmaker who wants to take our stories the rest of the world learn their craft?
Now the data have officially demystified what we in the business have all assumed for too long: “South African cinema” is no closer to a unified audience than it was before 1994. We are downstairs at the Marché du Film, but we have a way to go to get to the red carpet.
Hermanus is a South African filmmaker based in Cape Town. His film ‘Skoonheid’ was in the official selection at Cannes 2011
Afrikaans filmmakers have found a small oasis of fame