As May approaches, so does the Cannes Film Festival, where the red carpet will soon be rolled out along the façade of the Palais des Festivals. But like all glamorous affairs steeped in the prestige of the past, it raises a familiar question: Does any of this still matter?
It is difficult to ignore the moment we are living in. One that makes premieres, designer gowns, and flashbulbs feel out of step against the mass loss of human life during a disgraceful period of political warfare. Perhaps it would have felt different in another era, when ignorance could be excused by not having smartphones constantly delivering the news, whether we choose to engage with it or not. Now, it feels as though we are more removed than ever from the substance of what we consume, for better or worse.
With Netflix, Amazon, and other platforms producing increasingly polished, hyper-palatable content, the centre of storytelling has completely changed. These films are widely accessible, especially outside the cinema, but often lack the imperfections that give older classics their sense of honesty.
Right now, the trend seems to be emotionally investing in aesthetics and striking, isolated moments, specific scenes that feel controversial or visually impressive. And this trend is outweighing the value of a great narrative. In Marty Supreme, Timothée Chalamet going down on Gwyneth Paltrow in Central Park was the only moment that felt memorable to me. The rest of the story held very little. If I want to see a man winning against all odds, I’ll watch Forrest Gump.