A bright, blunt-spoken Croatian distributor I know was sizing up the festival at Saturday night’s Taking Woodstock party. “Nothing…nothing has really turned anyone’s head here,” he said. He was speaking generally and a bit cynically, of course. But I agree with him, then and now.

No film shown at the festival so far has homered or even tripled. Some sevens and eights by the sights of certain critics and buyers but no nines and definitely no tens. No film overwhelmingly leads as a likely Palme d’Or winner. No film shown here seems destined to open in the States to huge commercial or critical acclaim. No film has attracted undiluted affection or excitement.

Besides Up, I mean. But that’s not really a Cannes film, or rather the kind of film that I associate with the particular specialness of this festival.

I’ll allow that Jacques Audiard‘s A Prophet, Andrea Arnold‘s Fish Tank and Jane Campion’s Bright Star have stirred admirers in certain corners.

The good news is that Michael Haneke‘s The White Ribbon is being screened on Wednesday night so at least I’ll have a shot at that before leaving on Thursday.