DM1:Dorian Fisher—whose production company is behind the movie—Odetta Olson, and everyone else. Everyone but Fiona Pills. Because she’s not coming.
DM2:She wasn’t on the steps. No trace of her on the red carpet.
DM1:But then we get footage from inside the theater. And she’s there. In a gorgeous violet dress with these gigantic bows on the shoulders. She’s very visible, very beautiful. She’s sitting next to Dorian Fisher. They’re chatting, having a grand ole time.
DM2:Until…
DM1:The movie’s over, there’s a standing ovation, and then the cast, director, and screenwriter are going to go onstage for the Q&A. Standard operating procedure.
DM2:Except that Odetta Olson walks past Fiona Pills as she exits their row—andpullsFiona’s hair.
DM1:We’re not kidding you. We’re going to share the clip on our Instagram account. It clearly shows that Fiona is all smiles, until Odetta reaches her. You can see Odetta’s right hand grabbingsomething. And at theexactsame time, Fiona’s head tilts sideways, like, out of nowhere, and then she’s touching the top of her head.
DM2:Her face is likeOuch, that hurt.Or more like,What the actual fuck?It’s insane.
DM1:We’re talking about two grown women who know everyone’s looking at them. Whoknowthey’re being photographed. Maybe even filmed.
DM2:Definitelyfilmed. Everyone’s doing it these days. Privacy has died a slow and painful death. RIP.
DM1:Andthat’show they behave?
DM2:You mean, that’s howshebehaves, right? Because that was all Odetta Olson. She’s the one pulling the hair.
DM1:Right, but you don’t know what Fiona said to her. What she did before. I mean, Odetta looks like an idiot, because her biggest star was supposedly not coming to Cannes even though she was, like, a two-hour flight away. Then Fiona just turns up, unannounced.
DM2:So you think Fiona said something to her and then, what, Odetta snapped?
DM1:I think we’ll find out soon enough. There were over a hundred people in the theater. This isn’t the last we’re going to hear about this.
DM2:You better tune in tomorrow then!
DM1:Don’t forget to subscribe to theDis-Moi Toutpodcast to be the first to know about all things gossip.
Cannes Film FestivalDay Four
Lou
It was torture and I did it anyway. I replayed the events of theDon’t Be Sad!premiere in my mind over and over again. I could hear the drum of myheartbeat as the lights dimmed, exhilarated by the feeling that I was on the precipice of the rest of my life. Ten years, I’d worked toward this.
And now it was all dead and gone and buried.
I noticed immediately that the movie I was watching didn’t quite match the script. I remembered my scenes like I’d just walked off the set, but now I was confused about when they would come. And then, about thirty minutes in, I recognized the set, my character’s home. I almost grabbed on to the wrist of the man next to me with sheer excitement.
My phone beeped now, interrupting the vicious memory.
Trying to reach you
It was Liza, who had called twice this morning already. She’d called many times yesterday as well but, after fleeing the theater with tears streaking my cheeks, I’d let my phone run out of battery until this morning. Everyone had seen my social media posts about climbing the steps,the red-carpet glam, the thrill of finally seeingmymovie. Now that I’d gone silent, I was getting questions and comments about it all.
How was it?
You must be so happy.
Tell all!
I couldn’t face Liza, either. She was used to seeing me pick myself up and keep going, no matter what. She didn’t know how close I’d come to giving up. My entire future had hinged on this one role.
And now I’d lost everything. My LA life centered on my career, whatever sad little state it was in. Most of my friends I knew from acting class; the one thing we really had in common was that hunger for Hollywood success. I couldn’t think of one person I wanted to call and pour my heart out to about last night’s massive blow.
