Those Cannes tweets about Paolo Sorrentino‘s This Must Be The Place, the Sean Penn/aging goth-rocker/Nazi-hunting drama, are fairly negative. Now I see why my efforts to catch a possible early screening on the rue d’Antibes (which sometimes occur for buyers) didn’t even get a reply.
“I thin they’re keeping it under wraps,” a buyer speculated two or three days ago. “Under
wraps?,” I replied. “Then why screen it at Cannes at all?”
It’s now 12:25 pm. I’m standing in front of my Paris pad at 11 rue Victor Cousin, waiting for Cedric-the-landlord who said he’d meet me at 11:30 am. I don’t like this. (Who would?) My mood is growing darker by the minute. Then again it’s a nice day and I have my health, etc.
