What are we talking about when we talk about film festivals?
First, there are the major international film festivals that have, through consistent, historically meaningful work, established a bridge between artists and the business of distribution, and have come to dominate the media’s (and therefore the public’s) imagination in Western culture1. These festivals include (but are not limited to) Cannes, Berlin, Venice, Toronto, and, in the United States, Sundance. Each of these festivals has established its value over time, in dialogue with its own history and legacy and, because of that, there is a collective agreement among filmmakers, distributors, the press, and the festival’s programmers that these annual events will be totems, symbolizing the “state of the art” as it relates to their differing, established positions within the industry narrative.2
But like any narrative, there is the text, which is what we talk about and understand—the annual focus of the media and industry on the work shown and business that transpires at these festivals— and there is the unspoken, rarely discussed subtext which, as someone who labors within the fields of film festival programming/production and film exhibition, is perhaps my own obsession: how did these festivals become the institutions that they are today, and how do they maintain their positions within the industry? What does their example tell us about our own work?
Of course, these questions are deeply interrelated. Before I go any further, it is very important to me to say that, on a personal and professional level, I have no objection to the status afforded to these festivals; over time and through their work, they have absolutely earned their place in the industry and in the public imagination. Can they improve or change or expand their missions? Absolutely. But the reason those improvements and changes matter is because of the value these institutions have already built.
Because it is coming up next on the calendar3, let’s take Cannes as our example. Cannes is probably the most important festival in the world because it is deeply rooted in some very specific, core values: Cannes takes an international approach to the idea of auteurism, venerating the “filmmaker as artist” on a level unlike any other festival in the world and, crucially, it has always done so. Because of that consistent, heightened approach, and the festival’s enduring commitment to cinema as a theatrical experience, filmmakers who participate in the main selection at Cannes4 are not only part of a given year’s global film conversation, they are also part of the history of Cannes itself, in dialogue with the cinematic titans who have come before them, who have walked the red carpeted stairway and debuted their film to the world.
If you, perhaps cynically, believe that the historic and symbolic power of that moment really doesn’t matter all that much, I would ask you to look at what that history and process have built in terms of industry and media consensus for Cannes.
For the most part, because of its history and tradition, the festival has its pick of World Premieres by directors from around the world who, by being programmed by the festival, immediately join the global conversation as artists that matter now. World Premieres are crucial to critics and to film media, because they provide the attending press the opportunity to be among the first to consider the work and contribute to the narrative that is built around a film, which is key to framing how films arrive in the world. That narrative helps drive and is coupled with the acquisitions and distribution market for each film, whose rights are bought and sold across global territories, with industry buyers and their teams coming to screen films (or, if they already hold the rights, to launch them), announce deals, and compete with one another to add titles to their distribution slates. Film programmers, curators, and exhibitors also understand that premieres allow them to see and make decisions about which films might be a fit for their screens, positioning themselves to enhance their own place in the marketplace by sustaining the theatrical life of a film in cinemas and festivals around the world. All of these professionals come together at Cannes to play their role in developing a global path to reach audiences, make money, and compete for awards and prestige, for each and every film, each and every year.
In other words, Cannes has built an industry consensus of value and meaning for itself and, by association, for the filmmakers, companies, media, and professionals upon whom that consensus rests. And that consensus gives Cannes power. It gives Cannes the power to maintain its process, its values, its pomp, its curatorial exclusivity,5 and global its reach. It gives Cannes the power to go to the nation of France and receive half of its reported €20-€30 million6 budget from the state7. That power attracts luxury consumer brands to its periphery, stars, fashion icons, and photographers to its red carpets, and throngs of ticketless fans8 to the foot of the Palais des Festivals, quite literally, a palace for the festival and its films.
The gravitational pull of Cannes is driven by the power it is given9 which, in return, feeds its gravitational pull. It is, heading into its 76th year, a self-sustaining international cinema machine. Even as the landscape of theatrical film exhibition continues to recover from the COVID-19 pandemic, as streaming challenges collective theatrical moviegoing, and as massive studio tentpoles come to dominate more and more space in the marketplace, Cannes has been able to maintain its gravity and power by insisting upon its historical model, which maintains its hold on our cinematic imaginations.10
And not just Cannes, of course. For each of the film festivals I have identified above, their relative position in the industry depends on a similar consensus of value and meaning, on all of the stakeholders in the industry agreeing to bring their films, talent, and teams to the festival in order to participate in the mutually beneficial exercise that is the modern major film festival. Their values and approaches may be different (Toronto, for example, reportedly attracts 480,000 patrons11 to its public screenings each year), but the industry consensus— the choice the industry makes to participate in the festival— makes everything else possible.
So, what happens when you have a film festival that operates without the industry consensus of meaning and value? What if, in fact, there were an entire global network of festivals that held relative value instead, that did not inspire the same near universal support of films and filmmakers for premieres, talent to attend, industry to buy and sell and launch, state and sponsor support, media engagement, and curatorial interest? What does this model of relative value mean for film culture, for building a sustainable industry as it continues to evolve?
Of course, these are the exact questions facing thousands of film festivals around the world.
In Part II of this piece, we’ll look at how the framing of film festivals contributes to current concerns about the culture of filmgoing, and in Part III, we’ll look at what we as a film industry can do to make that culture sustainable as we seek to move forward collectively.
Major festivals in Asia (Busan, Hong Kong), Africa (FESPACO), and South America (Mar Del Plata, Sao Paolo) are, of course, outstanding, but tend to draw less media and industry attention in the English-speaking world, and the United States in particular, alas. That is no judgment on their value or work, as the rest of this series will seek to demonstrate.
And those are, in brief: Cannes (international auteurist films in competition & a few spring studio premieres out of competition), Berlin (European co-productions), Venice & Toronto (awards-season bellwethers), Sundance (independent, streamer, and so-called “mini-major” documentary and fiction films).
And I strive to be nothing if not timely…*ha*
I cannot tell you how many young/ emerging filmmakers and producers tell me their “film played Cannes” when we both know what that sentence means and what their film really did. I shot a video on my iPhone in Cannes and watched it there, too, so I guess my “film” has also “played Cannes.” C’mon, man.
Which continues to draw scrutiny and concern as the values of equity and inclusion continue to press for access against an historically exclusive industry and its curatorial practices.
Estimates online vary… anyone have the real number?
“Life After Cannes”— Eric Kohn, Indiewire, May 28, 2022
Famously, for all of the space the drama of festival’s red carpet occupies in the public imagination, Cannes premieres are not public screenings; only credentialed and ticketed press & industry in black tie / formal attire are able to attend, which comes with its own history and hierarchy and process about which, the less said, the better for fear of coming off as an elitist whiner (boo hoo, you didn’t get a ticket to wear your tux to the 4 hour piece of Eastern European social-realist miserabilism premiering tonight, boo hoo).
Again, they earned it.
Even the language we use to discuss the films at Cannes speaks to its power. Films carry the festival’s laurels as a title card during and after the festival, forever designated as an “Official Selection” or, if they’re lucky, as the “Winner” of one of the festival’s awards. The subtext here is not that films and filmmakers give Cannes permission to include their work in the lineup, but instead, that the festival chooses who gets to participate (which is true) and that the power of selection, when we talk about festivals, is always framed as a unilateral curatorial choice. This has a profound impact on public perceptions of curation and gatekeeping. I always like to joke that you’ll never see a headline like “George Clooney Decides To Allow Film Festival To Show His New Movie,” which is probably a far more accurate representation of how things really work.
"The subtext here is not that films and filmmakers give Cannes permission to include their work in the lineup, but instead, that the festival chooses who gets to participate (which is true) and that the power of selection"... isn't this true for virtually ALL film festivals?
I think it would have been interesting to point out that filmmakers managed to shut down the festival in 1968 (see link below) which could never happen today and shows how much power film directors have lost over institutions. It is a power issue and there is certainly other places than festivals to invent for filmmakers to show their work.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1968_Cannes_Film_Festival