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The Lead Kevin Morby's eighth album "Little Wide Open" presents a contemplative journey through the complexities of life, love, and identity, rooted in his midwestern upbringing. The album showcases Morby's signature Americana style while embracing vulnerability and uncertainty in both lyrics and production. The Musical Landscape of "Little Wide Open" The album opens with "Badlands," a track that juxtaposes the harsh imagery of the American midwest with surprisingly laid-back musical elements. Morby's conversational vocals and gentle guitar riffs create a contrast with lyrics that reference both "the big disaster we call home" and the possibility that "heaven is a place on Earth beneath the golden sky." This duality sets the tone for an album that embraces ambiguity and complexity. Musically, Morby primarily works in introspection and understatement, building on his foundation of Americana influenced by Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Tom Petty, and Leonard Cohen. While his previous work has touched on soul and jazz elements, "Little Wide Open" returns to his core sound with subtle pleasures rather than flashy moments. Tracks like the title track and "Natural Disaster" both exceed seven minutes, allowing songs to gradually unfold and inviting listeners to sit with the music. The Collaborative Production The genesis of "Little Wide Open" offers insight into Morby's respected position in the music industry. The National's Aaron Dessner, whose production credits include work with Taylor Swift and Noah Kahan, approached Morby to collaborate on the album. Dessner has shared Morby's music "with everyone I've ever worked with," indicating high regard for the artist's craft. The album features an impressive supporting cast, including Justin Vernon of Bon Iver imitating a tornado siren with his voice and alt-country star Lucinda Williams delivering a monologue on "Natural Disaster." Additional contributors come from Muna, Sylvan Esso, Florence + the Machine, and Perfume Genius, creating a rich tapestry of sounds that reinforces Morby's Americana foundation. Themes of Vulnerability and Transition Morby has described "Little Wide Open" as his "most personal and vulnerable album," created as he approaches fatherhood with his partner Katie Crutchfield of Waxahatchee. The album captures the doubts and uncertainties that accompany this life transition, as evidenced in "Javelin" where he questions, "Am I a has-been? Am I a husband?" The album explores the push and pull of one's hometown, balancing comfort and nostalgia with feelings of not quite fitting in. Morby captures this tension in "Cowtown" with the line, "Where no one ever makes a sound except me on this guitar," a bluesy acoustic punctuating the austere sound. Similarly, "Natural Disaster" examines mood swings as either something to be managed through medication or meditation, or simply as natural occurrences like landslides that fuel his songwriting. The Art of Introspective Songwriting "Little Wide Open" demonstrates Morby's mastery of introspective songwriting that embraces uncertainty rather than providing definitive answers. The album creates a "welcome safe space for admitting you're not sure; that things are complicated," particularly valuable in a climate that tends to extremes. Key tracks showcase this approach: the lovely melancholy exhalation of the title track's chorus, the banjo-assisted closer "Field Guide for the Butterflies" that gradually builds from fragility to something tougher, and the beautiful piano and clarinet motif running through "Junebug." Even the more climactic moments, like the maelstrom of noisy guitar in "100,000," serve the album's overall theme of emotional complexity. Legacy and Future Directions While Morby has never achieved massive commercial success or written a breakout crossover hit, "Little Wide Open" reinforces his status as a respected artist within the indie and Americana scenes. The album's critical reception and high-profile collaborators suggest that Morby's thoughtful, introspective approach continues to resonate with both musicians and listeners. As Morby navigates fatherhood and continues to explore life's complexities through his music, "Little Wide Open" stands as a testament to his growth as an artist unafraid to embrace vulnerability and uncertainty. The album's blend of midwestern storytelling, musical craftsmanship, and emotional honesty positions Morby as a distinctive voice in contemporary Americana.

The Candid Champion's Career TransformationThere are few experiences on the professional tennis circuit more uncomfortable than being Alexander Bublik's opponent. The task of deciphering one of the more talented and unpredictable players is challenging enough, but there is also a risk of being on the receiving end of a few stinging insults. Over the years, Bublik has become notorious among Russian-speaking fans for his scathing rants about his rivals, while reserving plenty of scorn for himself and the sport as a whole.From Underachiever to Top Ten: Bublik's Remarkable RiseThis past year has marked a significant transformation for the Russian-born Kazakhstani player. Just twelve months ago, Bublik had fallen out of the top 80 and his dire form forced him to drop back down to the ATP Challenger circuit—a desperate low for someone already considered an underachiever. However, his enviable talent has propelled a rapid turnaround: Bublik ended the clay-court season by defeating Alex de Minaur and Jack Draper (ranked No 9 and No 5), en route to his first grand slam quarter-final at the French Open. He then toppled the world No 1 Jannik Sinner on his way to winning the ATP 500 title in Halle.The Financial Reality of Professional TennisWhile most millionaire players are hesitant to speak about their earnings, money is another subject that Bublik often speaks freely on. "I think you realise that quickly once you start making your first money playing tennis that it's a big business," he says. "It's nice to win trophies, it's nice to be playing in a beautiful arena, it's all nice but at the end of the day you got to pay yourself and I think that was the very first motivation that I had when I became a professional tennis player." This pragmatic approach to tennis as a business has been central to his career strategy, even during his less committed years.The Changing Landscape of Tennis AuthenticityBublik's outspoken nature has sparked debate about authenticity in professional sports. "I think emotions are emotions," Bublik explains. "I guess it's just we live in a world where everyone tries to fake and I think there's nothing wrong in just releasing your emotions in a way because it's a stressful sport." His perspective extends to social media as well: "I guess the entire social media is fake, so I guess all the people who are there pretending to be someone they're not. I guess it's fake." This stance positions Bublik as a counterpoint to the carefully curated public personas common in modern sports.Maintaining Momentum: The Challenges AheadReaching the top 10 is impressive, but as Bublik's recent defeat at the Italian Open demonstrates, it is far tougher to maintain that status week in, week out. The top players have targets on their backs and it is far easier to swing freely with nothing to lose. Bublik will have a significant amount of points to defend over the coming months, starting with his return to Roland Garros one year on from the most beautiful moment of his career. His handling of these new experiences will say plenty about whether his transformation is complete or merely a remarkable career resurgence.

The Western Australian Government's Climate Stance Western Australia has been known for its beautiful landscapes, beaches, and roads. However, its government has taken a stance on climate change that is concerning. They believe they shouldn't be expected to act on the climate crisis in the same way as the rest of Australia. Climate Targets and Emissions Documents released under freedom of information laws show that Western Australia's gas exports risk slowing Asia's shift to clean energy. The state's annual pollution increased by 4% last year, and its emissions have grown 17% since 2005. In contrast, other states have reduced their emissions. The Impact of Fossil Fuel Expansion The Western Australian government has continued to back fossil fuel expansions, arguing that gas exports reduce coal burning in Asia. However, experts say that gas is still a fossil fuel and contributes to greenhouse gas emissions. A US study found that liquified natural gas exports can be dirtier than coal when emissions from extraction, piping, processing, and shipping are counted. The Role of the Federal Government The Albanese government has given implicit support to Western Australia's climate position. However, experts say that the federal government should take action to address the issue. A question for the prime minister is whether he intends to do anything about Western Australia's climate targets risk. The Future of Fossil Fuel Projects A big decision lies ahead for the federal government: a verdict on the Browse development, Australia's largest untapped gas basin, is expected before the end of the year. Experts say there is a stronger than usual legal case that it could be blocked on environmental grounds, given the risk to protected species.

The Lead The V&A;'s "Rising Voices" exhibition attempts to condense three decades of art from across Asia, Australia, and the Pacific into just three rooms, creating both an impressive display and significant limitations in telling the full story of the region's diverse artistic traditions. The Exhibition's Cultural Treasures The opening room features an array of remarkable works including bark cloth paintings from Papua New Guinea, Indigenous Australian abstracts, shark sculptures from the Torres Strait, and Tahitian textiles. Indigenous and First Nations artists form the heart of the exhibition, with stunning pieces like Lila Warrimou and Pennyrose Sosa's hypnotic bark cloth paintings where every shape carries specific cultural meanings. Aline Amaru's Tahitian quilt tells the story of her husband's dynastic lineage, representing the rich cultural heritage preserved through art. Art as Historical and Political Resistance Many works in the exhibition carry the heavy burden of colonial history. Elisabet Kauage depicts Melanesian figures being transported in Captain Cook's ship, while Sri Lankan artist Pala Pothupitiye paints over historical colonial maps to expose injustices. Brenda V Fajardo portrays Filipino women enduring under colonial rule. Beyond historical contexts, many artists created work under political oppression—Svay Ken painted quietly through Cambodia's Khmer Rouge regime, Heri Dono produced his grotesque cubistic works under President Suharto's dictatorship, and Maryam Ayeen and Abbas Shahsavar depict contemporary Iranian life pressures. The Exhibition's Design Limitations The presentation of this vibrant art faces significant criticism. The exhibition employs "dull, grey and depressing lighting more akin to a funeral home" that fails to showcase the bright, colorful nature of the works. A single, mournful piano ballad loops loudly throughout the space, creating an unwelcoming atmosphere that discourages prolonged viewing. These design choices undermine the powerful and often beautiful artworks they're meant to highlight. The Challenge of Comprehensive Representation The fundamental issue lies in the exhibition's scope—attempting to represent art from dozens of countries, countless Indigenous populations, and multiple continents in just three rooms. Each segment—Pakistani miniature painting, Indigenous Australian photography, Papua New Guinean textiles—deserves its own comprehensive exhibition. The current format offers merely "a barely cracked window into a vast world" without providing a cohesive narrative thread connecting these diverse artistic traditions. The Future of Global Art Exhibitions The "Rising Voices" exhibition highlights both the richness of Asia-Pacific art and the challenges of representing such diversity within institutional constraints. Future exhibitions of this scale must either commit to comprehensive, in-depth explorations of specific artistic traditions or develop stronger curatorial frameworks that can meaningfully connect diverse works without reducing their cultural significance. The V&A; has presented a glimpse into a vast world of art, but there remains immense opportunity to more fully celebrate the incredible diversity of contemporary art from across this region.

Smithsonian's Monumental Celebration of America's 250 Years To paraphrase the musical Rent, 131,487,300 minutes – how do you measure, measure 250 years? Especially in a country navigating an election year fraught with divisions and disagreements over basic facts? That is the challenge facing the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington DC as it marks the semiquincentennial of US independence. The museum's answer is with 250 objects that tell the American story, ranging from a revolutionary war-era gunboat to gloves worn by a "Miracle on Ice" hockey player, from Thomas Jefferson's desk to a Donald Trump fan's "Make America great again" hat. A Museum-Wide Journey Through American History Opening on 14 May, "In Pursuit of Life, Liberty & Happiness" will display 250 objects encompassing 250,000 sq ft across all three floors of the museum. They range from old to new, from big to small and from sublime to mundane. Seventy-six of them – many rarely or never seen by the public – will be concentrated in cases lining the entry halls, while the remainder will be embedded throughout the museum's existing galleries, connected by a "ribbon" design to guide visitors on a historical treasure hunt. Each is paired with an action verb to underscore the view of democracy as a "highly participatory sport." Among the star attractions is the Philadelphia, a 53ft, flat-bottomed wooden gunboat constructed in the chaotic, sweltering summer of 1776. On a recent preview tour, visitors stepped into a climate-controlled enclosure at the museum where the air was thick with the scent of 100% acetone. Behind viewing windows that allow the public to see the work in progress, two conservators clad in headlamps and respirators were meticulously wielding soft and stiff bristle brushes, dental picks and wooden dowel rods to strip away decades of accumulated lacquer from a rusted iron cannon and its surrounding timber. By the Numbers: The Scale of the Exhibition The exhibition features 250 objects spread across 250,000 square feet of museum space. Seventy-six of these objects – many rarely or never seen by the public – will be concentrated in cases lining the entry halls. The Philadelphia gunboat itself weighs 16,000 pounds and was constructed in 1776. The wreck languished underwater for 159 years before being salvaged in 1935, fully intact with its armament and hundreds of artifacts scattered across its deck. When raised, the boat revealed about 600 to 800 items, including cannons, carriages, wheels, a stew pot, a melting pot for pitch, shoe leather, buttons from regimental coats, and even a leather button that was probably from someone's breeches. Reframing America's Complex Narrative "How do you structure a commemoration, celebration and time for reflection?" asks Anthea Hartig, the museum's director. "What we landed on were those moments where individuals or communities had fought for recognition and advocated for their own sense of identity and self in their role in creating and becoming a part of the United States. But we also wanted to do the playful." Hartig describes the US as "amazing, beautiful, complicated", and cites the African American writer James Baldwin's celebrated observation: "American history is longer, larger, more various, more beautiful, and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it." The exhibition captures both the monumental and the intimate aspects of American history. Alongside iconic items like Thomas Jefferson's portable desk on which he drafted the Declaration of Independence, the Star-Spangled Banner that inspired the national anthem, and George Washington's military uniform, are personal artifacts like a faux-pearl necklace worn by Abigail Adams in the mid-18th century. The Future of Historical Commemoration Hartig adds: "We believe that this anniversary is so important not only to the nation but the world, and that our past 250 years are filled with so much history that it takes an entire museum to do it justice." The exhibition also incorporates modern technology to enhance the visitor experience, including a virtual reality experience that transports visitors back to the Philadelphia's construction 250 years ago. As the museum continues to preserve and interpret America's complex past, the exhibition represents a new approach to historical commemoration – one that embraces the full spectrum of American experiences, from the revolutionary to the contemporary, and from the sublime to the mundane.

The Artist's Journey Through Love and LossFalling in and then out of love is a universal experience that often brings sadness, grief and heartbreak, and with time, hope and healing. Photographer Diana Markosian used her camera lens to document these complex feelings in her new project, Replaced.She brings the viewer on her journey of having, losing and reclaiming love, in a project that blurs documentary and fiction. "[The moments] no longer existed in the way they had, and I wanted to reclaim them," she says. "I wanted to feel that I could exist in my own story again."Recreating Intimate Moments Through ArtTo document their relationship, Markosian and her team worked with an actor to play her ex-partner. Each intimate image from the series, taken over three months, is a replica of an exact moment once shared with her ex and now shared between her and the actor. Her connection to him deliberately led to his being cast as her partner in the series so that the experience would feel as real as possible.With the actor, she visited Miami, Paris, Naples, Capri and Nice, all places she had once traveled to with her ex-partner. "These locations carry an existing weight of romantic myth," she says. "They are already shaped by cultural narratives of love, desire and idealized experience."The Emotional Toll of ReenactmentShe stayed at the same hotels and did the activities they had once done together, describing the experience as painful but cathartic. "It hurts so much, watching myself be replaced, watching those memories erased, and I didn't want to live in this any more," she says. "I'm so grateful that the project happened quickly."One of the most tender moments she recreates with the model appears in an image of them seated in a bathtub, holding one another with a red light glowing around them. Their vulnerability allows the viewer to reflect on a delicate moment between two people whose past love no longer exists, fostering empathy and prompting the audience to reflect on their own past relationships.Art as a Tool for Processing EmotionsCreating these intimate photographs enabled her to contemplate her journey. "I wanted to acknowledge how these same spaces can be reoccupied," she says, before adding: "If anything, [the project] just showed me how much I loved this person."For the past 16 years, Markosian has not let go of her camera, often using it to reach back and understand her past. "Art has given me a way of processing. I was studying writing, and suddenly found myself holding a camera and not wanting to let go of it; it became just a friend in my life," she says.A Career Built on Memory and ReconnectionShe first picked up a camera at 20, during graduate school at Columbia University. After graduating with a master's degree in journalism, she wanted to see the world, so she moved back to Moscow, Russia, where she was born. There she taught herself how to use the camera.Today, her lens serves as a tool for reconnecting with her past life and reclaiming it as her own. In her previous, highly regarded photo monograph Inventing My Father, she demonstrates her unique ability to reveal the unseen past through her images. Working on the book for 10 years, she depicts her journey of finding her father after 15 years of no contact, following her move to California in 1996 from Armenia, where he lives."Father, my previous work of the past decade, it's all rooted in memory, and I think what's beautiful about memory, there's a blend of fiction, interpretation, and it's very subjective," she says. "So I think I love existing in that territory because none of it is really real."

The Cultural Phenomenon Returns On a chilly morning at a Silvertown studio behind London City airport, the sunburst intro to Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come is on repeat. Dancers run through a routine studded with reggae and dancehall moves. "Get high," commands associate choreographer Neisha-yen Jones with a smile. "Get low!" The ensemble rise and dip. They do the bogle and whine around each other as their watchful director Matthew Xia nods along. They circle Natey Jones who breaks out the opening line: "Well, they tell me of a pie up in the sky." In the distance, a plane leaves the ground. From Film to Theatrical Celebration It's eight months since The Harder They Come's full-throttle takeoff at Stratford East, where the musical was so popular that it is now returning for a second run which will also serve as a eulogy for Cliff who died in November. Playwright Suzan-Lori Parks' adaptation of Perry Henzell's 1972 Jamaican film is bolstered by a handful of her own songs as well as classics including Israelites and Wonderful World, Beautiful People – plus every number on the film's monumental soundtrack. Jones is reprising the role of Ivan (played on screen by Cliff and inspired by real-life outlaw Rhyging), who arrives in Kingston from the country and is dismissed and exploited, before becoming both a hit singer and a fugitive. The Evolution of a Cultural Narrative The original was akin to cinéma vérité, directly evoked spaghetti westerns and veered into blaxploitation territory; Ivan's tale has gained greater warmth, humour and protest spirit on stage. It was the best musical I saw in 2025. "The story is a tragedy but the theatrical event is a celebration," says Xia of his production. Twenty years ago, the film was adapted as a musical with a book by Henzell, also at Stratford East. "It all started at Ivan's Nine Night," Xia recalls. "There was a massive poster of Ivan on the wall, with everyone coming, and it was told in retrospect with vignettes." Choreography and Cultural Connection Shelley Maxwell, recently arrived from Jamaica, was watching the musical in the audience one night and has since become the choreographer of the new production. She has fused the folk dance forms of revivalism and pocomania, learned in her childhood, with reggae, dancehall and moves that today's teenagers can recognise. "I wanted to tap into the youth market," she says. It's brought some enthusiastic feedback from audience members who may not know the film. "Like: 'Oh my God, they did that step I always do at a party!' It allows them to form a connection." Authenticity and Cultural Representation Xia, wearing trainers in the Jamaican flag's colours, and Maxwell, whose tracksuit has the same black, green and gold trim, were intent on instantly transporting their audience to Kingston. The opening, says the director, is an "establishing shot" with characters coming and going on Simon Kenny's magnificent multi-level set, accompanied by Toots and the Maytals' hit Funky Kingston. To borrow from its lyrics, you really can believe everything they do. Even each move in the dominoes game we see is scripted, explains Maxwell, who mapped out the market scene with precision: "Where are you going to? How heavy is the item that you're holding? This is the swing of the hips." Social Commentary Through Performance Xia, whose father came to England from Jamaica in the 1970s, praises the freewheeling realism of the film. "Lots of the background performers are just whoever happened to be in the market that day, or walking through the shantytown. Lots of the actors were people that Perry knew, they had no training." Henzell, says Xia, showed "the part of Jamaica that had always been hidden, people living hand to mouth". The musical depicts a "quartet of oppression" against Ivan, as he takes a stand against individuals representing hypocrisies of the church, law, drugs trade and music industry. Universal Themes and Contemporary Relevance The Harder They Come was both a pioneering example of independent film-making for Jamaicans and a portrait of a newly independent country. Maxwell, who grew up glued to Hollywood musicals, says it was empowering to discover a film full of the Jamaican songs she loved. "I was probably way too young when I saw it. But what I saw was the world around me." She traces how different forms of music played a pivotal part in the country establishing its identity, moving from African forms and American R&B; to mento, ska, rocksteady, reggae and the rise of Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff. Maxwell captures that chain reaction with a tantalizing question: "What's this groove becoming?" Transforming the Narrative for Modern Audiences The musical also makes its hero's actions more understandable. "In the film, Ivan becomes a kind of wanton murderer," says Xia. In the musical, "he accidentally shoots a police officer when he's under threat, is remorseful, yet also knows that if he gives himself in then that's the end of his journey". Another significant change is the depth given to the principal women – Ivan's mother Daisy and Elsa, with whom he falls in love under the eye of her authoritarian guardian, the preacher. "The moral heart of the piece now resides in those two women," says Xia. Maxwell transforms a brief sequence from the film, in which Ivan imagines a tryst with the devout Elsa, into a floor-trembling set piece when the preacher's congregation lose their robes to indulge in lustful fantasy. The male gaze of the original scene is duly excised: "it had to be like it was both of them in partnership in that fantasy world," says Maxwell, who adds that the nature of dancehall – "grinding, gyrating on another body" required her to use her skillset as an intimacy director.

Demi Moore warned at a Cannes press conference that the film industry “cannot fight” the rise of artificial intelligence, describing resistance as a losing battle and calling for collaborative approaches.The Cannes Jury’s Candid Take on AI’s Inevitable RoleDuring a Tuesday press conference, the actress – a member of the Cannes Film Festival jury – answered questions about AI’s impact on cinema. She said, “AI is here. To fight it is a battle we will lose,” and suggested that filmmakers should explore ways to work with the technology rather than oppose it.Absence of Quantitative Data Highlights Qualitative ConcernsThe discussion contained no specific financial figures or usage statistics, underscoring that the debate is currently driven by ethical and creative considerations rather than measurable market impacts.Implications for Filmmakers and the Regulatory LandscapeMoore expressed doubt that the industry is doing enough to protect creators, hinting at a need for stronger regulation.Fellow juror Park Chan-wook reinforced the idea that art and politics should not be divided, linking the AI conversation to broader questions of creative freedom.Screenwriter Paul Laverty warned of potential “blacklisting” in Hollywood, suggesting that AI‑driven content controls could exacerbate existing censorship pressures.Future Outlook: Collaboration Over ConflictMoore concluded that the “beautiful aspects” of AI can enhance filmmaking, but the “true art” will always come from the human soul. The prevailing view among the jury is that embracing AI as a tool, while safeguarding artistic integrity, will shape the next era of cinema.

The Unparalleled Experience of CannesNothing prepares you for the shock that is the Cannes film festival: the adrenaline, the fatigue, the elation and the emotion, but also the hunger, the anger, the magic and the ridicule. For young cinephiles, and for almost everybody who works in the film industry, it is the mecca of cinema and has been so for nearly eight decades. Anyone going for the first time this week, as I did 25 years ago, should not listen to the old grognards – Cannes' battle-worn veterans – who will lament that the festival has become an abominable circus and swear this year will be their last. It is a circus, and you can bet they will be back for as long as their knees can take it. For there is nothing quite like it.From Resistance to Global Cinema HubBorn to counteract Benito Mussolini's Venice film festival, its first edition was planned for September 1939, but Adolf Hitler had other plans. The previous year, under pressure from Berlin and Rome, the Venice film festival's top prize, the Coppa Mussolini, was handed to Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda film Olympia, prompting the French, British and American delegates to walk out. Hence Cannes, conceived as the festival of the "free world". More than 80 years later, for all its sins, it has remained faithful to that founding promise.The Expansive Scale of Modern CannesOver the decades, Cannes has mutated into an ever-hungrier mammoth, needing more space, and more venues, as it attracts an increasing number of journalists and professionals. A purpose-built Palais des Festivals had to be erected in the 1980s. "The bunker", as we have come to call it, is not exactly beautiful but brutally efficient at managing Cannes' mind-boggling crowds. This year, about 40,000 accredited festival-goers are descending on the French Riviera from 140 different countries, with dozens of films selected across all sidebars. At the same time, the Marché du Film, running alongside the festival since the late 1960s, is gathering about 16,000 participants, with thousands of films and projects up for sale. Cannes is both a summit for the cinema elite and a giant film bazaar.Three Worlds Colliding at La CroisetteFor 11 days in May, three different worlds lead parallel lives – critics, deal-makers and red-carpet royalty – colliding almost by accident on the seafront boulevard known as La Croisette. Hundreds of critics watch multiple films a day with monastic discipline. When they give in to parties, they bitterly regret it the next morning. You can spot some of us sleeping through entire screenings; how some colleagues manage to review films is a mystery. I remember a well-known French critic who had such vivid dreams in the darkness that he became convinced they were scenes in the films. His reviews were full of brilliant analysis of moments that did not exist.We critics rush between screenings, press conferences, interviews, our desks and the bunker's free espresso machines, often forgetting to eat or even pee. Downstairs, in the bunker's basement, and in hotel suites and rented apartments, the film market runs day and night: buyers juggle numbers, producers charm, directors and screenwriters fight for their vision. Above them floats Cannes' top layer – stars and "talent" spending hours in hair and makeup before climbing the 24 steps of the red carpet in borrowed couture and jewellery. When people in the industry groan, "oh God, it's Cannes again", it is this collision of financial anxiety, choreographed glamour and sheer exhaustion they are bracing themselves for.The Magic and Meaning Behind the GlamourThese worlds sometimes collide in the most poetic or grotesque ways. One morning, rushing to my first screening at 7.30am, I was walking along the Croisette when I saw, coming towards me, slightly dishevelled in a tuxedo, Jack Nicholson on his way back to his hotel after a long night. I smiled, he smiled back. He was alone, no bodyguards, no chaperones. Those were the days. I also shared a lift with Takeshi Kitano in full samurai attire, and I will never forget turning into a hotel corridor and finding myself nose to nose with Max von Sydow – Ingmar Bergman's medieval knight from The Seventh Seal. My cinephile heart skipped a beat.One of my favourite sidebars in Cannes, alongside the competition where you watch the year's best crop of films, is Cannes Classics, showing restored world masterpieces and documentaries about cinema. I always start the festival there: it is the best way to reset and begin afresh. Then I am ready for the 10-day onslaught of motion pictures, and for the magic moment that precedes each Cannes screening – the festival's own jingle, a palm ascending the red carpet from underwater and then into the sky, lifted by the ethereal arpeggios of Camille Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals.Cannes: Enduring Symbol of Cinematic ResistanceIn 1955, Cannes gave its first official Palme d'Or to Delbert Mann's Marty; half a century later I found myself befriending its wonderful star, Betsy Blair, on the Croisette. I had the joy of seeing Ken Loach twice climbing those steps to collect the Palme, escorted by police outriders from Nice airport as if he were a head of state. I watched Iranian directors Jafar Panahi and Mohammad Rasoulof showing films at peril to their lives. For all the craziness of the red carpet and the samurai outfits, Cannes never forgets that it was founded as a gesture of resistance. That, as much as the glamour and the exhaustion, is why we keep going back.