Last month I was in Cannes, but not for the films, nor the Cannes Lions (folks were Shaping the Digital Infrastructure of the Future, but I wasn’t shaping it with them).
It may sound valedictory, but that could be the last time I ever see it the way I used to. Cannes itself is different now, even if its creamy and pastel facades, Provencal light, sudden storms, swifts, and blazing sunsets are all still there.
But what comes next isn’t valedictory, it’s a poem, it’s on my writer’s blog, and I’ll be happy if you read it.
It’s a world away from the strategic visions of the future I used to shape myself. Yet the distance in the poem isn’t dismissive or contemptuous: I’ve been there (and part of me always will be).
And that world of the poem—beauty, image and power, glamour and influence, and their costs, mundane horrors beneath a mondaine surface, is the world of The Trashman, the new neo-noir Freddie Omm thriller.
Cannes, plus ça change, is still a great place for finding the things that will last, as well as the ones you won’t be seeing again.
Last Month in Cannes—read the full poem here.
The Trashman—pre-order the thriller here.
