UHURU

Live long and prosper!

It’s the high life, Jim, but not as everybody knows it. FQR’s very own Uhura, Elizabeth Salzman, brings news from the farthest reaches of Planet Glam.

Greetings from my end of the galaxy to yours!

As this is my debut column, I should briefly—and boldly—state my intentions.
Much like my namesake, I have been asked to cast a watchful eye over the characters and events that go to make up my seemingly glamorous, often ridiculous world.
From my personal swivel seat I will do my best as your Communications Officer to make sense of the ever-changing group of movers and shakers that many consider are fashioning our society. As the seasons change, I hope to be able to shed a little light on a scene often regarded as remote, aloof and way too full of itself.
And while in some cases that is undoubtedly true, to paint such a simple portrait would do it a disservice, much like asking Lucien Freud to doodle in crayon.

Over the years I have often been asked how I manage to keep my cool when faced with so many demanding situations. Beyond a liberal frosting of Elnett super-hold and a pair of Wolford deluxe stay-ups, I’ve discovered that old-fashioned common sense and manners are pretty much all I need to maintain the appearance of calm, even when surrounded by Masters of the Universe.
Such common sense seems to be making a comeback. It has been in the air for some time, but this year at Cannes—more precisely, in the exclusive harbour at the nearby Hôtel du Cap—a mistral, if you will, came sweeping up from the Croisette, blowing away the clutter of old, leaving behind a spirit of optimism and hope… but more than anything else, a spirit of realism.

These are tough times we’re living in, and even for the multitude of dollar-billionaires jostling for space on that small scrap of rock there was an awareness that the gluttony of the previous two decades had come to an end.
And yet this was no wake. No one was crying into their Chanel bags. The Moët was poured, the Chopard glittered and there was still more flirting than hurting going on.
People were gathered for several reasons. First, to prove they were still in the game. Second, to show off the new wife, girlfriend or boat (or all three). However, once the usual formalities were dealt with, the real reason why people had travelled from all over the globe quickly became apparent.
They had come to learn.
The world we’re living in is changing, and changing fast. The men and women brushing canapé crumbs from their Tom Ford jackets made their fortunes not only predicting such change but being sure they were best placed to profit from it.
In previous decades that was enough. Amassing power and wealth was all you needed to prove your time on this planet had been well spent.

Not any more.
In Cannes this year there was a pervading sense among the various powerbrokers that such self-indulgence was not only unsatisfactory but also irresponsible.
Whether it’s because the planet’s resources have become scarcer, or images of natural disasters now flash across the world in milliseconds, or simply because wars—however well-intentioned—are now seen as fundamentally unwinnable, a new realisation seems to have taken hold.
It’s as if everyone understands there are no quick fixes anymore.
No parachutes.
No easy get-outs. We’re all in this together. And what was extraordinary was that amid all the parties, all the joshing, bragging and high-school pranks, one phrase seemed to stand out more than any other—in fact, I heard it everywhere I went.
“You’ve got to meet with this guy, he’s got a brilliant idea.”

A brilliant idea.
That’s what these people were there for. Sure, a couple of screenings, a premiere or two, but fundamentally they were there to exchange information, to knock things about.
And what were these ideas people were so keen to pass on?
Were they scripts, were they websites, were they new forms of advertising? They were all these and more. They were methods of bringing everything together. To make money, of course, but more than that. To try and make the world more liveable.
To try and make it a better place.

As the sun set on another beautiful day, I asked myself what profound revelation had caused these men to have such a radical conversion.
Gazing across the jetty from the prow of my host’s 200-foot yacht, I soon found my answer.
No matter how successful you are or how gorgeous your wife, no matter how much you’ve got stashed in the offshore account, there’s always a guy with a bigger boat than yours.

Uhura out.

Would you like to comment on this article?

You must be logged in to post a comment.