The jewels are long gone, the Psy impostor has been unmasked and barnacles have started forming on yachts and models, both super and regular alike; another year, another Festival de Cannes is in the can.
Overnight Abdellatif Kechiche’s lesbian coming-of-age drama, which features an explicit ten minute sex scene, “Blue is the Warmest Color” won the coveted blingee, the Palme d’Or. Joel and Ethan Coen’s folk music comedy starring Justin Timberlake, Carey Mulligan and Adam Driver from Girls, “Inside Llewyn Davis,” took out the Grand Prix. Kore-Eda Hirokazu’s domestic drama “Life Father, Like Son” was awarded the Prix du Jury and Best Director went to Mexican cineaste Amat Escalante for “Heli.”
In a surprising series of upsets, Bruce Dern won Best Actor for his role in Alexander Payne’s “Nebraska,” beating out popular favorite Michael Douglas, whose role as Liberace (the embodiment of camp itself) in Steven Soderbergh’s “Behind the Candelabra” is drawing apt excesses of gilded praise. Berenice Bejo, of “The Artist” fame won Best Actress for “The Past,” eking out “Blue is the Warmest Color” breakout Adéle Exarchopoulos (pictured above left with Kechiche and co-star Lea Seydoux).
Cannes isn’t just about rewarding the finest motion pictures, it’s mostly about what’s happening outside the cinemas on the red carpet…
Liya Kibede’s heavily embellished Roberto Cavalli gown does a slightly better job of hiding her bo-day than her facial expression and body language do at concealing her thinly-veiled unease. It’s a natural reaction produced by the body when you’re within arms-reach of a slightly unhinged looking Bai Ling, who accessorises her flamingo Deco crotch vector dress with a matching clutch and the pallor of a cadaver. See you Bai!
I literally Dior.
Overgrown child empress KiKi Dunst does maximal-minimal in a leopard print (?) plus sheer chinoiserie Michael van der Ham column stacked with Chanel fine jewels. Ugh. Someone get me a green juice.
Familiarise yourself with Carey Mulligan’s poop face. Can you imagine two human beings you would rather be sandwiched between than these two in this exact moment? What are they talking about? Inside The Mind of Llewelyn Davis? Poop? Carey wears a chic, structural Vionnet number; JT wears Balenciaga and looks like a million bucks.
Speaking of human sandwiches and tenuous segues, nothing could possibly have any more filling than Keith Urban’s stacked Cuban heel patent brogues lady boots. Nicole of Monaco wears L’Wren Scott and resplendent Veronica Lake curls, knows she’s a movie star and looks to the heavens [her agent] for a sign of her next blowout.
Resident model turned actress who acts exclusively in post-apocalyptic zombie flicks, Milla Jovovich, smoulders in relatively demure Chanel Haute Couture. This was one of many excellent red carpet looks from MiJoVo, which leads me to think she’s got way too much time on her hands and needs to expand her oeuvre to include movies without sentient flesh-eating corpses.
The French are an elaborate practical joke designed to make the rest of the world look bad, oui? In a ‘retro’ beehive and bias cut number from last week’s Cruise collection, Marion Cotillard puts her best contractually obliged, nearly vertical foot forward in Dior and with Chopard ice.
There’s always a chance where Valentino is concerned that one will end up looking like an expensive window. Zoe Saldana brushes aside any suggestion of drapery with a swift hairflick and a DGAF smize, piercing your soul with David Yurman jewels and the realisation that you will never look this majestic and effortless all at the same time.
Dusky porcelain doll that your grandma just loves, Jessica Chastain gazes wistfully at a pit of photographers, radiating light itself in a Versace Collection toga party gown accessorised with the Heart of the Ocean; something Kathryn Bigelow no doubt won from James Cameron in their divorce settlement.
Looking for a good time gal with high fashion credentials who isn’t afraid to look like Liberace’s personal matador? Look no further than Li Yuchin in ruffled, caped and flared Gareth Pugh the colour of bloody murder.
My thoughts exactly, James.
Here’s Li again in glittering ombré Givenchy Haute Couture from Fall ’12. It’s a relatively simple number, with embroidered epaulets and a cascading waterfall of beading, plus sequinned trousers (?). Li accessorises with the smug smile of one who relishes looking like a diminutive drag Cher wig.
Jess Hart? In Cannes? In a garish pink one-shouldered number topped off with a thigh high split? Sure, I mean, why not?
Face for hire Liu Wen looks like a tall glass of sparkling mineral water, hold the lime, please, in Roberto Cavalli and Chopard jewels. She’s joined in frame by Dat Ass.
Noted red carpet dahrlink Ziyi Zhang looks positively equine in Chanel Haute Couture, safe in the knowledge that SJP would be ill-advised to tackle a tulle tail of this kind.
French gals, amirite?
Exhibit B.
Next time I get my hair cut/life coached I’m getting a Tilda, please. The inimitable Scot is pictured below with Loki Hiddleston and director Jim Jarmusch at the premiere of the highly-anticipated vampire romance Only Lovers Left Alive wearing what are almost certainly her comfy PJs. Bless.
This is a joke, no? What is life?
Lead photo: Loic Venance via Getty; all other images via Getty
