As a jury member at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, I can let you in on some of the behind the scenes machinations. First of all, yes, Sean Penn always looks like that. Maybe he smells something horrible, but don’t you dare suggest it’s his upper lip. That’s the kind of jab that’ll get Gerard Depardieu (whose surname translates as “leaving twice”) thrown over the side of a golden yacht. I saw it happen. I thought about diving after him since I was already in a wet suit, but Catherine Deneuve stopped me. She licked at my earlobe, whispering, “It’s okay. That’s where he lives now. In his shell-house.”

Speaking of Deneuve, I can’t recommend A Christmas Tale highly enough. Remakes often serve as shame deposits at the creative bank(ruptcy). Obviously I’m still working on that little bon mot, but you get my drift. Still, Catherine pulled off her redux admirably. Her Ralphie may not offer the kind of pre-pubescent charm of Peter Billingsley’s original performance, but she—with her lithe Parisian frame—was about 42% more fuckable in that pink bunny costume. I asked her to wear it for me last night, but, sadly, it was only a rental.

This year, I tried to score a few wins for genre efforts. I’m a geek at heart—a fan of anything with the words “star”, “planet”, or “something-man” in the title. I can even appreciate television shows such as Farscape and Stargate SG-1 as fun little guilty pleasures for retarded persons. So I was pleased as Harry Mudd to present a Special Prize (no, it’s not for retarded persons) to Clint Eastwood’s Changeling. I never thought the Odo character was given enough room to shine on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (or as fans like me call it, Steckdeespine), so a solo film made for a wonderful character piece. Although I felt Eastwood was only treading tired ground in the final scenes when his character, Capt. Frankie, removed Odo’s feeding tube and hosed him down the drain of a public shower.

Sorry, spoiler alert.

Yes, I would have also loved to honor Rene Auberjonois’ performance, but we could only recognize one actor. It had to be Benicio. Partly as repayment for all the inside jokes my fellow jurors and I are able to share at the expense of Che. But mostly because his beard smells like Scarlett Johansson’s crotch. And Sean Penn’s upper lip.

Talk to you later.