"So, do you like him?"
A straightforward question.
Carl froze, almost choking on his own saliva. He widened his eyes in disbelief, "Cough, cough... W-what?" Then he lost control and began to cough violently as air rushed down his windpipe, making it impossible to stop.
But the man in sunglasses remained calm and unfazed, repeating the question, "I asked, do you like him?"
Carl blinked, utterly bewildered, unable to hide his confusion.
The man in sunglasses shook his head with an air of seriousness. "I don't like him."
"I think he's too handsome. All the women just stare at that face. I'm so disappointed in this world where people only care about looks and ignore talent and ability. What's the point of being so handsome? I'd love to scratch up that face."
Carl: Cough, cough! Cough!
After a brief pause, Carl said, "Actually, I think he's pretty good... really good. Don't you like 'Spider-Man'?"
The man in sunglasses shrugged slightly. "That depends on how you look at it. Is it a superhero movie or a coming-of-age story?"
Carl swallowed nervously, still recovering from the shock, but now his gaze toward the man had a spark of curiosity.
As a rookie film blogger, this was Carl's first time attending the Cannes Film Festival. He was eager to dive into the festival and its fan parties, filled with excitement and anticipation. But the reality was quite different—running from one screening to another, rushing to meet deadlines for articles, it felt like he was trapped in a never-ending loop of chaos.
Perhaps the only time he could truly relax and talk was while waiting in line.
After all, with his low-level yellow pass, the wait for popular films often stretched over two hours, sometimes even three. What else could you do during that long wait besides strike up a conversation?
But there was one downside:
The chances of finding like-minded individuals were slim. Everyone had their own opinions and preferences, and disagreements were inevitable.
At this moment, excitement and eagerness took over, and Carl, attending Cannes for the first time, couldn't hold back. His voice trembled slightly.
"Do you also think that 'Spider-Man' is, at its core, a coming-of-age story?"
The man in sunglasses neither confirmed nor denied, "If we're discussing the essence, then so is 'Catch Me If You Can,' so is 'Elephant.' Anson still hasn't escaped the comfort zone of coming-of-age films. He hasn't truly grown up."
Carl's eyes lit up. His chest swelled with enthusiasm, and he nodded eagerly, stammering.
"Y-yes, exactly!"
"I said the same thing on my blog. Anson hasn't been able to shake off the struggles of adolescence. Of course, I'm not saying these films are bad. Quite the opposite, the fact that he can extract a similar core from such different genres and themes shows that Anson is an actor."
"No, what I mean is, he's not just a pretty face—he's an actor with his own thoughts."
"I imagine everyone talks about his looks, and that must bother him. In his next project, if he gets the chance, he needs to step out of that adolescent shadow and take the next step, showing more of his range in different roles."
"Honestly, I think that's why he chose Charlie Kaufman."
"I think he's an interesting actor, and those media outlets who keep treating him like a pretty boy should really reflect on that. There's no need to follow the crowd."
The man in sunglasses gave a faint smile. "I thought you didn't like him."
Cough, cough.
Carl choked on his own saliva again. "No, I never said that. But to be honest, with so many people going crazy over him, I doubt he cares about the opinion of a small-time movie lover like me."
"No, trust me. You matter. Really," the man in sunglasses said meaningfully. "Hope you have a great day and enjoy the screening."
Carl stood frozen, watching the man in sunglasses walk away, circling around the line to find the VIP entrance.
Something felt off. Carl kept his eyes on the man as he moved through the crowd, standing out despite being in a sea of people. His ordinary attire still carried a distinct style.
Wait a second...
Suddenly, Carl remembered something. If the man in sunglasses had just arrived at Cannes today and hadn't had time to watch "Elephant," then how did he know that "Elephant" could also be interpreted as a painful coming-of-age story?
Wait, sunglasses, "Elephant," Anson—
Hiccup.
The surprise was too much. Carl let out an involuntary hiccup.
The next second, he clamped his mouth shut, wide-eyed and filled with shock. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, and he barely noticed his eyes almost popping out of his head. His mind buzzed endlessly, frozen in place.
No way.
No way...
No way!
Carl felt like he couldn't breathe.
But when he looked again, the man was gone from the VIP entrance.
Reluctantly, Carl tore his gaze away, feeling restless.
His mind buzzed with chaotic thoughts. The two-hour wait in line didn't seem so unbearable anymore, and before he knew it, the loud, fevered screams from the red carpet pulled him back to reality.
The cast of "Dogville" had arrived.
As expected, the film, one of the most highly anticipated in the main competition, had drawn a massive crowd. The red carpet was surrounded by three layers of fans, and the queue to enter the Lumière Theatre was record-breaking—
A sea of people, with no end in sight.
But!
Carl's luck was on fire today. He made it in, leaving a long tail of disappointed attendees stuck outside the Lumière Theatre. While others sighed in frustration, Carl didn't notice, his feet already carrying him into the screening hall.
Instinctively, Carl scanned the crowd in the Lumière Theatre.
Maybe he'd see that man in sunglasses again?
Unfortunately, no.
Taking a deep breath, Carl forced himself to calm down and focus on the film.
"Dogville"—he had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. Ever since the list of main competition films had been announced, Carl had been eagerly anticipating this one.
What new madness would Lars von Trier come up with this time?
The movie ended—
The audience rose to their feet, applause thunderous. The entire Lumière Theatre was swept into a storm, the faces of the crowd lit up with shock and excitement.
Carl stood up too.
There was no doubt, Lars von Trier was one of the most provocative, rebellious directors of our time. Once again, he had delivered his views with force, baring the brutality and evil of human nature in a raw and confrontational way, almost daring the audience to feel assaulted, every punch landing right in your face, menacing and relentless.
Yet, maybe because his expectations had been so high, Carl felt a little disappointed.
But one thing was certain: the film was dense with information, and it left both psychological and physical discomfort. It was going to take Carl some time to digest it all and gather his thoughts.
The Lumière Theatre was in a frenzy again.
A full fifteen minutes of standing ovation greeted Lars von Trier and Nicole Kidman. It was clear that Cannes was about to be shaken up once again.
Finally, the applause died down, and the audience began to exit in an orderly fashion.
Next was the post-screening press conference. The crowd started moving toward the press hall, but a tall figure darted swiftly through the throng.
Carl's eyes followed it, wait, was that—