Let’s be clear: there are no good or bad awards at Cannes, but rather an awards list reflecting the subjective choice of the men and women who make up the jury.
Therefore, I respect the choices of George Miller’s team (well, at the same time Mad Max isn’t The Leopard or Wings of Desire!) but it is the opposite of what I would have personally chosen.
With the exception of Bacalaureat, the very good Romanian film by Cristian Mungiu, which won the Best Director Award (in fact, in the order of protocol, the third prize!) and perhaps the Best Actor award for the Iranian Shahab Hosseini in Asghar Farhadi’s very moving film, I almost disagree with everything else.
I have great admiration for the work of Ken Loach, but I prefer about a dozen of his films to I, Daniel Blake, which I consider to be a minor work.
I believe that Xavier Dolan has in a few years unveiled a completely original cinematic universe. But the theatrical It’s Only the End of the World is far inferior to the provocative Mommy, which set the Croisette ablaze in 2014.
Olivier Assayas made a formidable Carlos and a subtle Sils Maria right here a year ago, but his Personal Shopper is quite anecdotal.
So, if beyond the film there should be a reward for a director, I stand by it: 2016 should have been Pedro Almodovar’s year.
Finally, it feels like Cannes (and the industry) once again played the politically correct card to give itself the illusion of having an impact on the world’s destiny. But all this is not serious, it’s only cinema.
by Patrick Mottard
