Cannes Film Festival tourists always congregate around the entrances to the big hotels on the Croisette on weekends, obviously hoping to catch sight of a celebrity. The Martinez and the J.W. Marriott allow closest access to the unwashed masses. (The Carlton and the Majestic have security guys keeping onlookers from getting any closer than the street.) Is there any activity on the planet that more loudly screams “we have no shame, we are the world champions of lame”? Three or four giggly girls were squealing with delight over something (i.e., probably nothing) just before I took this in front of the Marriott. Regular guests had to be escorted inside by security.
Totally taken by Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson — a more beautiful Cannes snap than any I’ve ever taken here.
