The Cannes Brûlé Palme

The 70th annual Cannes Film Festival wrapped up last week. Movies were screened and whatever. We here at Cinema Romantico have never been big festival-goers as we prefer to see fewer films at a time and ruminate on the films we see a little longer. Critical rumination has no place at a festival, of course, at least not for critics, whose obligation is to see and then instantly spew, getting to Twitter FIRST with their capsule cum review, not only diagnosing what might not have even settled in their minds but providing fuel for headlines which too often these days comes across like the most valuable currency in movie discourse. It’s a real shame. Still, for all the unfortunate aspects of film festivals, this blog will never deny our affection for the frivolous bliss of Cannes, which is really all that should matter, and which is what reviewers in their spew should cop to straight away, an ecosphere of silver screen endorphins intended to yield euphoria rather than analysis.

As such, it is in that euphoric state that Cinema Romantico, from the cozy confines of its couch, where we spent our time observing Cannes from afar due to the traditional confluence of the Big 10 Track & Field Championships and the fact that the only outlet willing to grant us accreditation was Horse & Hound, officially bestow our famously un-exalted Brûlé Palme, this blog’s variation on Cannes’ prestigious Palme d’Or, awarded each year to Cinema Romantico’s favorite Cannes Film Festival attendee. Past winners include Kylie Minogue, Bill Murray and Kristen Stewart, and while this year’s recipient of Cinema Romantico’s non-notable Brûlé Palme is, if you have followed this blog for any length of time, or simply seen our Twitter avatar, incredibly foregone, that is, in so many ways, keeping with the festival attitude of mostly going to re-confirm your biases.

That is to say, the winner of this year’s quite insignificant Brûlé Palme is Nicole Kidman.

The what’s-that-then? Brûlé Palme goes to Nicole Kidman because Ms. Kidman, just as she so ably toggles between countless character types, played all Five Roles of Festival Attendee to remarkable precision.

She went alone.

She blended into an ensemble. 

She attended with her significant other, humbly accepting his (rightful) deference. 

She brought a friend.

She fronted a supergroup.

She did it all. Because she can do everything.