Day 2 - September 2
Clint Rules the Skies and Triumphs on Shore

The portable white picket fence Deauville organizers chose as a barrier between the Space Cowboys podium and the hundred or so journalists who were clearly delighted to be in the same room as Clint Eastwood, James Garner, Donald Sutherland and Tommy Lee Jones, was as good a symbol as any for hard work rewarded. The words veteran, geezer, codger, duffer and oldster have been bandied about (in print and in the film itself) to describe these seasoned performers (Jones is a mere 53; Eastwood 70) and the roles they play, but the collective feeling in Deauville was Old is Cool.

"Did you have to convince the other actors to be in the film much the way your character has to convince the other thwarted astronauts to reconvene for a space flight?" one woman asked. Sutherland brought the house down with his deadpan reply: "If Clint calls and says 'For $100,000 will you do this part?' you say 'Yes - but you've got to give me two weeks to raise the $100,000.'

Very little was said about the movie itself as reporters and visitors from far and wide grabbed the opportunity to address their heroes directly and plead for special favors.

A man from Belgium ("A little kingdom between Paris and Amsterdam") said he's been trying for two years to put a TV program together in which Belgian celebrities could meet and exchange ideas with famous American entertainers "but it's so hard to contact you. If you could just give me your phone numbers, we could make progress."

Garner deflected the uncomfortable pressure by announcing "Excuse me, but I won't even give Donald Sutherland my phone number." Jones added, "I live in Texas and we don't have telephones." Clint took up the relay with, "My phone in Carmel doesn't work too well either. It has a crank on the side." An honest attempt deflected with relative grace.

A young man said, "I'm not a journalist, I'm just a Spanish boy, but I've eaten in your restaurant in Carmel two times and in Venice I tried to give you a present -- a book. I came here to give it. Could I give it to one of your bodyguards?" Eastwood nodded and a burly fellow accepted the volume on Clint's behalf.

A Russian woman reporter speaking accented English took the mike to say, "I asked how I could get an invitation to attend the party tonight. They told me the only way is to sleep with the producer. I'd like to know if there's another way to get a ticket?" Eastwood blushed and the Warner publicist's jaw dropped faster and farther than an unhinged elevator as Garner positioned his finger squarely over Clint's head and mouthed the words "He's the producer."

Semi-catankerous Jones, who would sooner strangle a fool than suffer him gladly, moved the room to tears with his description of his visit to an ancient chapel in the nearby town of Honfleur. "There's a little chapel across from St. Catherine's church. It's 1000 years old and I was there alone. The bells began to ring and as they swayed back and forth the hand-hewn timber began to creak as if it were singing along with the bells. The whole building came alive. It was extraordinarily moving."

Moving is also the operative word for this evening's tribute to Eastwood sponsored by the French magazine Cahiers du Cinema, the current issue of which contains 34 pages on the lanky and laconic honoree's career. Morgan Freeman -freshly arrived to promote the American remake of Garde à vue, Under Suspicion - presented his friend and fellow actor with his trophy, after delighting the capacity crowd with an amusing speech in fluent self-deprecating French. Eastwood and his fellow mock astronauts weren't the only high fliers in the room - real life space pioneer Buzz Aldrin is also in town and waved to the crowd.

After the amiable Trees Lounge, Steve Buscemi's newest outing as a director is the far harsher Animal Factory, set in a Philadelphia prison. Edward Furlong plays a 21-year-old lad from a good family who's incarcerated for selling marijuana. On the inside, the pretty young man is befriended by smarter-than-average convict Willem Dafoe, whose 18 years behind bars have made him an expert on all things incarceral. The film is highly engaging for most of its running time, weakening only at the very end. Being an actor himself, Buscemi clearly loves to give his cast a chance to shine. And despite the other fine performances in today's line-up, the most impressive demonstration of acting chops is indisputably Mickey Rourke's contribution to Animal Factory. He plays "Jan," a hunky man who wears make-up, fishnet stockings and a bra as comfortably as the other convicts wear their scars and tattoos.

David Mamet's State and Main came to Deauville today, preceeded by buzz so loud the bees in Normandy requested earplugs. The verdict? It's a movie with its share of charm and its share of what the French call 'longeurs' - passages that just sort of sit there and make the whole venture seem longer than it actually is. State and Main is the kind of movie where once you've heard the basic premise and overheard a few of the gags, much of the film's potential to surprise and delight has already been pulled out from under the potential viewer like a slow-moving rug. So I'll perform a public service by refraining from telling you who's in it and what it's about. If you can manage to get yourself to a theater without reading anything about the film in advance, your pleasure should be intact.

Wilma Radar