Alice Palmer is intrepid and excited about her new role as budding director in Cannes seeking finance for her first film. She is very familiar with the environment of the festival promoting a film is relieved to be able to move around incognito, free from press conferences and photographers and to feel she is in control, however uncertainly, of her own destiny.

Alice has matured as an actress and as a woman. Her years of professional experience, of life and love have developed her skills, deepened her emotional resources and equipped her with a clarity of direction. At the same time her age has begun to exclude her from the roles and attention she had become accustomed to and she is inevitably haunted by memories of being fêted at a festival at the centre of an industry which prefers its women very young.

Rick Yorkin is a bigwig studio exec who Alice would have met (somewhat warily!) on her first visits to Hollywood as a young actress looking for the right job. To meet him in completely different circumstances where the tables of power have, surprisingly, turned in her favour, places a new sense of equality neediness and the vulnerability he reveals in his desperation ludicrous frankness, he is interested in the real Alice Palmer and, that moment, he is just another human being. This and the atmosphere of Cannes shark frenzy of marketing madness, the next minute an old-world seaside resort in the first promising days of summer irresistible cocktail. She may not go to bed with him but it is amusing to have him dangling for once in a moment suspended in time.

I was thrilled when Henry invited me to work with him (just two weeks before shooting!) as his film "CAN SHE BAKE A CHERRY PIE?" had insp ired me when I was a student. We liked each other instantly and found that we shared many favourite films. We talked about many things and sometimes about the story of "FESTIVAL IN CANNES" in the few hours we had before filming began. He seemed infinitely flexible, open and enthusiastic about ideas.

I like an "auteur" director (which Henry undoubtedly is, even though he doesn't write down any dialogue) and have always approached my work with the conviction that it is my job to try to get close to a director's vision and interpret what he wants from me. Usually actors have a script to study and time to explore who their character is. With Henry there is a skeleton plot and barely any preparation time. He likes the clothes you are standing in, he tells you what the scene is and starts rolling. This feels strange because you know he wants you to be yourself but he has given you a situation and actions that are not your own. For me it was a wonderful exercise in focusing on making coherent thoughts an exchanges with the other actors and at the same time trying to stop checking myself and feeling self-conscious. I felt hopelessly inadequate at the time but I think the film, despite sometimes being too close for comfort, hangs together quite poetically. I would love to have another go at working with the unique Mr. Jaglom.