The hotel we were staying at was too heavenly to be summed up as merely “nice.”
It had a French ocean view and was close to the Debussy theater, where the films invited to Un Certain Regard were screened. Hearing there was a fitness center, Jinsu hyung grinned from ear to ear.
“A French gym, huh… my pecs are thump-thumping.”
“Hyung, we came to the Cannes Film Festival… Doesn’t your reason for being excited seem a little off?”
“A festival’s a festival, and a workout’s a workout. You can spot me today.”
“Sorry… what?”
He looked at me like I was prey and gave a lecherous smile.
“We’re resting today anyway, right? Huh? They say a sound mind dwells in a sound body. If you want to go long, you’ve gotta train overseas too.”
“Excuse me?”
Most of the directors I like are a bit chubby—no, closer to fat if you look at Guillermo del Toro…
“People who do art aren’t supposed to fuss over their bodies.”
“Then why’d you quit smoking?”
“That’s…”
I racked my brain as hard as I could.
If I worked out with Jinsu hyung, whose shoulders are bigger than most people’s heads, I’d get wrecked head to toe.
“Oh! Jet lag! I need to… adjust to the time zone…”
“You sweat it all out and sleep. That’s jet lag adjustment. What else is there?”
I looked around for Junseong, who’d been behind me a second ago, but he’d vanished into thin air.
“I’m sharing a room with Junseong, okay? I’ll go fetch him.”
“If he doesn’t come out, I’m storming in. Boom-chak-chak, boom-chak. You know?”
“What decade’s catchphrase is that?”
“It’s a classic. My daughter loves it.”
“…”
Leaving Jinsu hyung behind, I fled into the elevator and slipped into my assigned room. Junseong was already in pajamas, sprawled on the bed.
“Man, this bed is insane. Have a good time out there.”
“You ran away, didn’t you?”
“His face looked suspicious. I’m going to sleep.”
“You should work out too. The sun’s high. Sleep again?”
“I’ve gotta adjust to the time zone.”
I kicked off his blanket and shouted:
“You sweat it all out and sleep. That’s jet lag adjustment!”
The next day.
“Are… you alive?”
At his question, I couldn’t answer.
“I said are you alive! How did we get to Cannes? You can’t die! Win the award and then die!”
“Shut up… please.”
Yesterday, seeing us enter the fitness center, Jinsu hyung went into god-mode and “taught” us a workout.
But it wasn’t teaching. It was a tour of hell.
“Just one more. One more! Okay, now one more for real!”
I could still hear his voice ringing in my ears.
“We’ve gotta go to the opening ceremony… we should get up…”
“I’m done for today.”
“You’ve got to work the market, you hustler…”
Knock, knock.
At the knocking, we groaned and managed to pull ourselves upright.
Crackle, crack, crack.
It felt like every last joint and corner of my body was screaming.
All my muscles seemed to plead with me: please, just stay still.
“Gaaah. Hooaa…”
When I finally opened the door, Go Sangwoo and Kwak Yeonji were there.
Yeonji looked completely ready, wearing a glamorous dress.
I was briefly stunned by how beautiful she looked, and then her words snapped me back.
“Sunbae, you’ve been sleeping till now? And what’s with that posture?”
Seeing me propped against the doorknob to stay upright, she stared as if something were off.
“There’s… a story.”
“At this rate you’ll be late. We’ve got to hustle. Photos and everything. We should watch the invited films, too. There are a ton of events!”
“Got it. I’ll wash up and be right down. Tell them to wait in the lobby…”
I shut the door and dragged myself to the shower.
My neck and back hurt so much that even washing my hair took ages.
I came out, pulled the tuxedo carefully folded in my suitcase, stifled the groans escaping me, put it on, and tied my bow tie.
“Hey, I’ll be at our market booth anyway, so I’ll come a little…”
“Move it. The people heading to the booth with you are waiting downstairs.”
“Urrgh…”
He got up and started getting ready too, and together we went down to the lobby.
The whole crew was there in sharp outfits, waiting for us.
When we emerged grimacing, one crew member asked, worried:
“Are you sick?”
“I-I’m fine… haha…”
“If you’re fine, should we sweat it all out again today?”
Jinsu hyung bounded over, excited.
“Just kill us instead…”
Worried we might get dragged off again, we sat as far from him as possible on the bus and headed to the Grand Théâtre Lumière for the opening ceremony.
FESTIVAL DE CANNES
VIVA IL CINEMA
We walked the opening night red carpet, but it seemed like no one cared about us.
Me, Junsik hyung, and Kwak Yeonji, just the three of us, stepped onto the carpet, and only a few camera flashes popped.
There were way more people than at the Cheongpung Film Festival, but somehow that one had felt far more blinding.
Maybe because we were bookended by world-famous stars, our presence felt all the more pitiful.
“Oh! Nicole Kidman’s right behind us!”
Yeonji squealed at the sight of a famous actor behind us. I wanted to look too, but even turning my body hurt, so I just stared straight ahead.
My face scrunched up on its own.
“Is it always like this…?”
Beside me, Junsik hyung spoke awkwardly, maybe because the flashes were barely firing for us.
“To them, we’re strangers. Our screening hasn’t even happened yet.”
“Even so, isn’t this a bit much…”
Dressed to the nines, Yeonji’s lips jutted in disappointment at the total lack of attention.
“I put so much effort in today…”
She glanced back, clearly envious of the actor getting showered with flashes as she walked the carpet.
“Once our screening’s done, it’ll be a whole different story. Just hang on.”
“Huh?”
Cannes is a ten-day film festival.
<Jawol> was set to have its first screening on day five at the Debussy theater.
Industry people hadn’t seen our film yet.
And if Korean films had never caught on overseas, it made sense no one cared about us.
Even so, Yeonji seemed rattled by the indifference; she looked anxious right up until we took our seats for the opening.
“Let’s watch the opening film and move. We’re free until our screening starts. When Jawol screens? People will swarm us, and we won’t even be able to move.”
“How can you be that sure?”
“Because Jaweol is a masterpiece.”
Thwack.
She gave a small disbelieving laugh and lightly smacked me, but for me, fresh from a trip to hell, it was agony.
“Urrk.”
“Whoa, are you okay?”
“I feel like I might really die… don’t touch me…”
One of the jurors, director Brian, noticed an East Asian director at the opening.
First-time festival attendees often pasted on smiles or fidgeted shyly to make a good impression, but this East Asian director was different.
A proud bearing, like he lived alone in the world. An aloof air that said he didn’t care what anyone thought.
As if coming to Cannes were no big deal, he walked with a scowl, and Brian, inwardly, was impressed.
“Find out that Asian guy’s name.”
“Yes, sir.”
He asked a staffer to check, and the name that came back was unfamiliar.
“‘Gyeong’? How’s it spelled?”
“G-y-e-o-n-g Chan Hyeon.”
“Hm… so that’s Hyeon.”
He’d already stood out on the red carpet coming in.
Even as global stars and directors passed before and behind him, he walked calmly, unshrinking, like he didn’t need any spotlight at all. It was hard to miss.
“What is that confidence…”
If you were the first ever invited from your country, you’d expect the gawking of a country mouse in the big city. Instead, the guy’s constant scowl, like he was annoyed by everything, made Brian irrationally prickly.
“Brian, is something wrong?”
Another juror beside him asked.
“See that guy?”
“The one next to the short-haired Asian woman?”
At that, Brian finally noticed the short-haired Asian woman he hadn’t been paying attention to.
A mysterious allure. The short cut heightened it, lending her an elegant mystique.
He stared a second, dumbstruck by Kwak Yeonji, then snapped out of it.
“Uh… the scowling guy.”
The juror next to him studied the man Brian meant.
“Good-looking. Is he an actor or something?”
“That’s the director Chester was blathering about. Hyeon.”
“Oh, the one Chester pushed into Un Certain Regard?”
“Look at his face. Doesn’t he seem full of irritation?”
The other juror nodded, seeming to agree.
“True. He does look disgruntled about something…”
“When Nicole Kidman walked past behind him earlier, he didn’t even react.”
“Really? Strange guy. You’d think he’d at least glance. Now I’m curious what his film is like.”
Even as the opening began, Brian couldn’t stop thinking about the spinning question mark that was this Asian director.
Thinking back to his own first Cannes, he hadn’t been anywhere near that self-possessed.
In fact, no first-time Cannes director looked like that.
And the guy was twenty-eight.
If he was “young,” he was still very young. How could he carry himself with that kind of swagger…?
Was it confidence in his film, or what…?
‘Snake, Desirelessness. Those two kept me up for days.’
Chester’s words during deliberations flashed through his mind.
He and Chester Baker didn’t get along, but he couldn’t remember the last time Chester had gushed about a film.
Maybe that confidence was pride in his work…
“I am a bit curious. When does this Hyeon guy’s film screen?”
After the opening ceremony, I dragged my battered body to screenings for a few days.
I mostly checked out films in Un Certain Regard.
As expected of younger directors, they felt brash and a bit adolescent.
A show-off impulse, wanting to prove they could pull off this kind of shot.
Maybe because of that vanity, a few of the films felt oppressive.
“Hm…”
“What, are you worried? You’ve been watching films nonstop.”
He stank of booze as he flopped onto the bed.
“Our screening’s tomorrow. How could I not be worried?”
“If it goes well, great; if not, oh well. Just setting foot in Cannes is already huge.”
“Why the sudden change? You’re the one who said ‘win the award and then die.’”
Knock, knock.
“Hey, pretend you’re asleep. Kill the lights!”
Knock, knock.
“If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.”
At Jinsu hyung’s voice, goosebumps rose all over me.
“Boom-chak-chak… boom-chak.”
Knock, knock.
“I can’t. I’ve been drinking. You go.”
“No…”
“I can hear everything in there~.”
Hands shaking, I opened the door. Jinsu hyung was smiling.
“You’ve rested a few days, so tonight we go hard again. Eve of opening day. Too nervous to sleep anyway, right?”
“L-let’s… go…”
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