Three Days in Cannes

Getting into Cannes isn’t easy - unless you’re famous, industry, or local. But if you’re under 29, Three Days in Cannes is the best way in.

The program is for 18–28 year olds and gives you access to premieres and screenings that are otherwise invite-only - at the film festival of film festivals. You just need to write a letter of motivation and pay a €20 fee (refunded if you’re not accepted).

Tip: Apply early - I hear spots go fast, and decisions are rolling. Although I can’t say I followed my own advice. I submitted close to the final week in 2022 (which to be fair, probably is early), and literally seconds before the final bell in 2024.

That said, I hear it really comes down to the strength of your statement.

If you want inspiration, you can read my first letter from 2022 below; and my final one from 2024.

¹ I realise these are both very chaotic timestamps. What was I doing submitting this before 6 AM on a Monday? LOL. I don’t remember.

“Why is it that English, drama and music teachers are most often recalled as our mentors and inspirations? Maybe because artists are rarely members of the popular crowd.”
— Roger Ebert

Accreditation to the Three Days in Cannes program would be a longstanding dream come true for me since I was a teenager. Let me tell you the story of how I fell in love with film.

My budding cinephile origins play out quite naturally like a classic movie trope - arguably not the most riveting of beginnings - but if I had to attribute it to one event in time, I would go back to when I was thirteen. My love of movies was sparked by the influence of my favourite teacher, Mr. Paul, who taught us music and English (as elementary schools, to my knowledge, still don’t yet offer elective film courses).

It’s a silly childhood tale - I was a mischievous and rambunctious kid trying to evade the chilly outdoors of our subzero Canadian winters during lunchtime recess. Then emerged the option of occasionally staying indoors for Movie Club, something Mr. Paul organised for us on Wednesdays, armed with a slightly askew projector screen draped against a dusty chalkboard (actually, I think we had a whiteboard).

The Movie Club group was small, mostly attracting the quirky oddball bunch at first. He had a captive audience of wide-eyed thirteen-year-olds, but he never treated us like children. He created a dedicated pseudo-curriculum that was varied and broad in scope and genre. He introduced us to the zany, the esoteric, long-loved classics, small no-name independents - always providing colour commentary and insight into why and how certain scenes worked, and why they were important. Nothing was off the table.

I still remember every single one of the movies he showed us. To name just a few:

• the expert storytelling and simplicity of Rashomon (1950);
• the iconic opening sequence in Touch of Evil (1958);
• The whimsical, exotic (and gorgeous) filmography of Tarsem Singh’s The Fall (2006);
• And even the ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ cult-like following of Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957).

Certainly, some of these classics were lost on me at the time - but today, I know that an early love for film has enriched my life endlessly. I remember sitting diligently, legs-crossed on the carpeted floor of the music room; and for those 75 minutes every Wednesday, I was taken on a journey - a welcome escape from reality.

We also kept a forum where we were able to trade notes and comment on the movies we watched in Movie Club. This paved the start of a period wherein I was engrossed with online movie forums throughout high school, as a hyperactive teenager that started to have a more lively online presence than in real life. Although I’m no longer a self-proclaimed ‘internet movie pundit’, I still look back at that time in my life very fondly as I shared many film discussions with virtual strangers across the globe - some of which I still have on social media - forming friendships on the basis of a shared love for cinema. It is truly empowering to see that a mutual hankering for Sam Raimi movies can bridge cultures and continents, not an easy feat in today’s disparate geopolitical climate.

From a young age, I also began an inventory of all the films I’d seen, and would rate them. First on IMDb, and then Criticker (does anyone remember that?… this was before the era of Letterboxd), and now I’ll write the occasional review on my personal blog. I categorise them into genre lists, sub-categories, and thematic clusters - films that speak to each other, even if no one else would pair them (I’m a nerd, I know 🤓). The list has officially entered quadruple-digit territory - a fact I’m both proud of and slightly alarmed by. Part of the joy of watching a new film is the habitual thrill of logging it and seeing where it fits in my evolving cinematic universe. It’s a chronological record and curation of my taste and growth through the years.

Now, at 26, I’m a marketing director at a sports and entertainment company. I don’t work in film, but occasionally, we concept, create, and shoot commercials. It’s easily my favourite part of the job, and arguably the sexiest part of marketing. Just two weeks ago, we filmed a new brand campaign in Mexico City. IIt was my first time on a large remote offsite, and we were lucky enough to have the (uncredited) Director of Photography from Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma on our production. I was fully enamoured by the brilliance of his visual eye and creative mind. I was fully enamoured with the brilliance of his visual eye and creative mind. It’s one thing to read about production, but a completely different thing when you are able to witness it.

I didn’t truly appreciate the intention and the intensity of planning, emotion, and thoughtfulness that all come together - and this all for a 30-second spot. The minute details and the painstaking efforts from scripting, casting, makeup, post-production, wardrobe, audio, music - it is truly a team effort. It takes a village, one could say. There are many unsung heroes with thankless jobs, all who have an incredible hand in the final product. It really makes me recognise and appreciate ton how much more effort and precision must be required for a full-length film.

That’s my limited exposure to what goes on behind the movie magic. I get to play a small part myself in architecting the brand story - and the best ones always follow classic storytelling structure: setting, conflict, climax, resolution. Like a good movie, the ads that resonate most are the ones that feel human.

As much as this letter is an ode to my love for film, it’s also a recognition of its human impact and the way movies bring us together, across languages, backgrounds, and belief systems. To be an delegate at Cannes would be an honour. To share space with the filmmakers and talent who dedicate their lives to this craft - and to appreciate their work, alongside other lovers of cinema - would be a privilege. Because at its core, film is about being human. It gives us joy, laughter, sadness, rage, escape - and sometimes, even understanding.

P.S. As for Mr. Paul - we kept in touch intermittently while I was in university (because he also taught my younger brother), occasionally swapping music favourites and trading movie recommendations. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly half a decade now, which probably means it’s time I sent him a note. He has no idea how much he colourised my life through film.