CANNES, France — "This is my worst Cannes."
The dripping-wet young woman standing to my right had every reason to complain. There we were, lining up for the one and only Cannes Film Festival screening of Pedro Almodóvar's short film "Strange Way of Life," in a long, amorphous queue rendered even more confusing by a sudden afternoon downpour. With hundreds of badge-wearing, ticket-waving, umbrella-holding festivalgoers still standing in line minutes before the screening was due to begin, some of us reassured ourselves that the show clearly wasn't going to start on time. And since we all had reserved tickets in a 1,068-seat theater, surely we'd eventually get in, right?
Wrong. At a certain point, the dreaded official chorus of "C'est finis! C'est finis!" began, and security guards began turning the crowd away. Some of those waiting in line stayed behind to splutter indignantly and argue their case, to no avail. A few friends and I decided there was nothing to do but to duck into a cafe, have a glass of rosé and chuckle over the strange waste of life we'd just been through.
