The Festival de Cannes is often hailed as some kind of dream destination by cinephiles around the world, and after four years of attending as a journalist—this year’s edition being my first as Letterboxd’s London Editor—I’m slowly starting to see some truth in that. 

It is, like any film festival, about the people: both those behind the camera (Marty! Wes! The one and only Alice Rohrwacher!) and, because of the very global, very early, very traditional and prestigious status of the long-running festival (Cannes was one of the few fests during the Covid years that simply postponed, no virtual versions here), those patiently queuing out front to see movies that have been on a lot of film lovers’ minds, sometimes for years. It’s a bucket list for many, including those making the movies themselves. 

Ramata-Toulaye Sy was told at midnight, the night before the Cannes press conference, that Banel & Adama, her debut feature as writer and director, would compete in the Official Selection––not the Un Certain Regard sidebar where she had submitted it. “They called me on the phone and I screamed. I screamed and screamed,” Sy tells me in Cannes. “It was, ‘You’re in there, good luck!’. It’s everyone’s dream. I’ve definitely dreamt of it, maybe not for this film as it’s my first film, but I’ve dreamed about it forever.”

Sy thinks much of the appeal of Cannes comes from the scale, but also the tradition. “This part of the film industry is old, it’s very famous, the films selected are of such a high quality. So many filmmakers were discovered by Cannes, including now me!” She’ll remember the moment she walked up the historic red steps forever––if her body can ever recall actually doing it. “I was there, but I wasn’t,” she says. “When I see the videos, I think, ‘Did I do that?’ I’m sure Leonardo DiCaprio felt very present, as did Cate Blanchett. They’re used to it. But it was my first time. I just thought, “Don’t fall. It’s raining, don’t fall.” And she wasn’t the only one: “My actors, it was the first time they had been on a plane. They’d never left Senegal before. But they loved it.” 

One demystifying note: “The steps look so much bigger on TV,” Sy laughs, telling us the walk up into the Palais only takes about 10 minutes. “When I first arrived I was like, ‘Oh, it’s quite small, actually!’ It makes it less scary.” 

Away from the famed staircase, the vibe this year was not scary as such, although the festival security and Police felt strangely tense. Perhaps because it was busy: tickets were in high demand (I wanna run to you, Strange Way Of Life) and the streets of the otherwise sleepy French town were bustling. With me for Letterboxd was fellow London correspondent George Fenwick, and we were tasked with seeking out the greatest new titles but also, and as importantly, getting to know our global community. Plus, I was able to practice my long-dormant French un peu. 

We were, from day one, low-key blown away by our real-life meetings. As we made our way onto the Croisette (the main walkway stretching from one key venue, the Palais des Festivals, all the way down the waterfront, past a string of beach clubs and more cinemas) with the Letterboxd mic in one hand and fistfuls of jangling little enamel pins in our pockets, we weren’t too sure what to expect. Would we just be interviewing each other? Coming home with a stack of Polaroids of just the two of us? 

This ranged from a whole crew of exchange students working in the American Pavilion (hi Piper!), to the greatest hustler we’ve ever met, Letterboxd member Natalia, who managed to watch thirteen films in three days with no press pass. This is a feat because so much of the festival is described in hushed tones about who you know, which stars are heading down, how many invitations you’ve received. Many journalists and creatives across the film industry are there to work, but unlike other festivals you can’t buy tickets to public screenings. You’re invited, or you queue, or you hustle like Natalia does. So there were also many other valiant film lovers dressed to the nines hoping to secure a ticket to a premiere —that’s the likes of Jose, Billy, Marina and tons more. 

We also enjoyed really leaning in to the global platform of it all. The in-person aspect of a major film festival such as this is a chance to deepen virtual connections, to work out who you see eye-to-eye with in the vast and strange screen industry. We shared many a rosé with Letterboxd forever-fave Courtney Mayhew, repping Ahi Films (they’re one of the earliest studios involved with much talked about upcoming Aussie horror Talk to Me), and high-fived our TikTok bestie Reece right outside the Palais.

We expanded upon our beautiful community on stage with the European Film Market (a European hub with close ties to the Berlinale film festival, connecting audiences with business and trade film folks), at a panel chaired by Little White Lies editor Hannah Strong. Alongside us were Jacqueline Coley from Rotten Tomatoes, Valeria Richter of the Torino Film Lab (and the 2015 kerfuffle in which the festival refused her red carpet access for not wearing high heels), and our own George, who represented the emotional cinephiles of Letterboxd when he stepped in for me—I was required on some urgent Asteroid City business. 

You always wonder what’s happening on the other side of the screen in this online community. Places like Cannes remind us just how fun, rewarding and surprising it can be to take that leap and put two firm feet on the ground somewhere else. So, all that leaves me to ask is: where shall we all hang out next? (I can answer that: Tribeca Film Festival fans, keep your eyes peeled for Mia, Flynn, Adesola and Brett in NYC this coming week.)