"Boring. Boring. Boring."
"Gus Van Sant isn't bad, but... he's predictable; plus, he's past his creative peak, so there's no need to expect too much."
"Honestly, I'm surprised Gus Van Sant even chose Anson Wood. Wasn't the lesson from Keanu Reeves back in the day enough?"
"I just want to see how this film made it into the main competition."
"Heh, Anson must be regretting it now. He showed off too much during the opening ceremony, and now his own movie premiere might get completely overshadowed."
"I wonder what look Anson will go for tonight. Maybe he should just show up wrapped in a newspaper, haha. That would definitely go down in Cannes history."
All around, conversations buzzed.
The late afternoon sun trickled down, slowly transforming from a pale golden light to a bright orange, lazily and warmly spilling over the Palais des Festivals. There was no more of the midday heat, but the constant hum of activity along the seaside boulevard continued without pause.
Gradually, people gathered toward the Palais, waiting for the 6 PM screening of "Elephant."
Emmanuelle was among them.
The festival had just begun, and the faces around her were still fresh and energetic, not yet touched by fatigue or weariness.
Whether they liked it or not, whether they were supporters or critics, no one could deny one thing:
All eyes were on him.
At least thanks to Anson, this year's Cannes coverage and attention had exploded, reaching new heights across the internet.
Even the media buzzing around right now were no exception—every third sentence somehow led back to Anson.
Emmanuelle took a deep breath, trying her hardest to keep control, but her heart still pounded, almost ready to leap out of her chest.
Excitement.
Unlike the others, this was her only feeling. Cannes had only entered its third day, and Emmanuelle had already found her main focus—
Anson Wood.
While everyone else's attention was on Anson's show-stopping appearance at the opening ceremony, Emmanuelle had been tracking his movements for the past three days.
There were interviews, sponsor parties, and casual outings.
Each time he appeared, it was nothing short of stunning, like scenes straight out of a high-fashion campaign.
Especially when Emmanuelle learned that the U.S. edition of Vogue had sent a professional team to Cannes to shoot a feature on Anson, she was 100% sure that Anson came fully prepared.
As for "Elephant," Emmanuelle wasn't an expert, so she couldn't judge. But at least in terms of fashion, she was expecting surprises tonight.
No matter what others said, Emmanuelle believed Anson had a plan.
The focus was exactly here.
On the day of the opening, Anson had already set the bar so high. How could he possibly top it?
For the first time, Emmanuelle realized her imagination was too limited. She had no idea how Anson would present himself tonight.
Would he wear Dior again? Rumor had it that Hedi Slimane had personally come to Cannes to style Anson, but how could Hedi surpass the opening night look?
Other brands, other designers? Was there anyone in the fashion world who could top Hedi in menswear?
Everything was uncertain.
But it was precisely because of this uncertainty, this unpredictability, that Emmanuelle felt even more thrilled, more excited, more eager.
She took another deep breath, and yet another, looking down at her still trembling right hand, and couldn't help but laugh at herself. Was she getting too excited?
The buzz around her grew louder—
"He's here. He's here!"
Emmanuelle snapped out of her thoughts and immediately raised her camera, adjusting the focus and aperture with the practiced ease of a seasoned photographer.
At a typical film premiere, actors and directors usually arrived one by one, gradually building the atmosphere to a peak.
But Cannes was different. The entire film crew walked the red carpet together, presenting themselves as a group, all basking in the flashes of the cameras.
Of course, once they stepped onto the carpet, the actors and directors would spread out for individual and group photos. But the group entrance had become a Cannes tradition.
So, when someone shouted, "He's here!" it meant the entire "Elephant" crew had arrived on the scene—
Right on time.
It was indeed an indie film crew, no diva attitudes, no grandstanding. Everything was coordinated perfectly with the festival organizers, and the schedule proceeded smoothly.
The entire crowd focused their attention.
Emmanuelle could almost feel the air around her fall silent. The murmurs evaporated in the heat, as everyone instinctively held their breath, all eyes turning in the same direction.
No matter what they had said before, their bodies betrayed their excitement.
A black Mercedes arrived. Then another black Mercedes pulled up behind it, both stopping at the start of the red carpet.
So, which one was Anson in? The first car or the second?
He must be in the second, right? After all, Anson was the only superstar in the "Elephant" cast.
More accurately, based on the cast list so far, Anson was the only actor, standing out as if this were some kind of experimental film crew.
It made sense that Gus Van Sant would be in the first car, with Anson in the second.
As the security guards approached to open the car doors, time seemed to freeze. The entire crowd held its breath, fingers poised over the camera shutters—
Just a brief pause.
Snap.
The door opened.
A figure in red appeared.
Red?
Wait, red?
Before her brain could process it, Emmanuelle's instincts as a photographer took over, and she reflexively pressed the shutter.
Click, click, click...
In a brief moment of surprise and shock, the photographers at the entrance of the Palais realized that Anson had indeed arrived.
Indeed!
Once again, caught completely off guard. But their muscle memory kicked in faster than their minds, trained to handle surprises better.
Click, click, click!
Shutters fired in rapid succession.
When Emmanuelle's eyes finally adjusted to the light, and she saw the figure standing confidently at the start of the red carpet, she, along with everyone else, was struck dumb, jaws dropping in astonishment. For a split second, even their fingers forgot to move, leaving only the sound of camera shutters filling the air.
All the anticipation, all the provocations, all the criticisms—both positive and negative—vanished in that instant, swept away like dust. Everyone, without exception, was drawn into the storm, their souls trembling in awe, momentarily lost for words.
What was this scene?
Gasping, Emmanuelle finally willed her fingers to move.
Click, click, click, click...
Like thunder, the sound of camera shutters echoed everywhere. The entire world seemed to dissolve into a cascade of flashing lights.
History would remember this day.
More precisely, this year's Cannes would be immortalized.