In Cannes, a man is buried under a fallen palm tree – happiness and misfortune lie close together on the Croisette

A tragic accident occurred recently in Cannes when a man was struck by a falling palm tree. Following a strong gust of wind, the palm tree on the Boulevard de la Croisette, not far from the festival center, collapsed. The apparently rotten, three-meter-tall tree buried an acting agent beneath it.

There are mixed reports about the victim's condition. Eyewitnesses initially reported a pool of blood under the man's head, but according to an official, the victim suffered only minor injuries.

An American director who rushed to the scene of the accident told Reuters that he saw a crowd, including some people filming: "I thought it was a paparazzi situation." The first thing that comes to mind is a star; that's the natural reflex in Cannes.

The Croisette in May is an unreal place. From the press terrace in the Festival Palace, the view stretches out over the harbor, where it looks as if the yachts are stacked up, creating a densely packed marina. On the other side of the complex, facing the boulevard, is the red carpet.

Less than 150 meters away is the Hotel Barrière Le Majestic, where the big names are staying. Naturally, the journey is made in a motorcade. On foot, the stars simply walk past the photographers and climb the 24 steps to the Grand Auditorium Lumière. 24 steps to the top of the cinema.

The irony of fate: Here it is about the palm tree, while a few meters away a poor pedestrian is almost killed by one of the same kind.

In life, happiness and unhappiness are often closer together than you think. Cannes demonstrates just how close. Not just because of the sacrifice of the Palme d'Or. Or because of the homeless man who left his boxes around the corner of the festival. You stumble over other things. Above all, the political comments of the stars.

The most beautiful and privileged people are celebrated while casually pointing out the world's misery: This isn't unique to Cannes. But here, it often has a particularly unpleasant aftertaste. Against the world's most glamorous backdrop, the stars' cheap statements seem even more contrived than usual. Much of Cannes is cosmetic, and the political overtones even more so.

This year, the focus is once again on Gaza. Artists aren't bothered about Russia anymore, but protesting against Putin promises too little attention. Cannes reflects the zeitgeist. Iran is only a marginal topic. Even Depardieu doesn't really get people excited. Anyone who wants to profile themselves as a star with civic engagement these days signs an anti-Israel placard.

When it comes to opposing the Jewish state, you can rely on Richard Gere, Susan Sarandon, and Javier Bardem. In the latest letter, drafted just in time for Cannes, Pedro Almodóvar, Joaquin Phoenix, Ruben Östlund, Jonathan Glazer, and many others also emphasize their solidarity with Palestine.

In letter form, protest is not only convenient, but practically risk-free. No one has to face a debate. On the other hand, it wouldn't necessarily be more productive. There are gifted actors who have astonishing difficulty articulating themselves off-camera. Javier Bardem or Joaquin Phoenix on a panel about the Middle East conflict would look bizarre.

But there are no such panels in Cannes anyway. The main focus here is on strutting. If there is any talk, it's business. Outside the festival palace, the national pavilions are set up, where producers meet to explore co-productions. Palestine also has a tent. A clothesline hung with pro-Palestine T-shirts is hung in front of the entrance, perhaps intended to evoke a refugee camp.

A meeting of "selected Swiss producers with emerging Palestinian filmmakers" has already taken place here. Leading the initiative is Geneva director Nicolas Wadimoff, who has long been committed to the Palestinian cause.

In his latest film, he pays tribute to the Palestinian relief agency UNRWA. Whether he will also address its complicity in the October 7 massacre remains to be seen. The film didn't make it to Cannes. Apart from its solidarity with Palestine, local cinema isn't making a name for itself. The 78th edition of the festival will also take place virtually without Switzerland being represented.

Germany is more successful. They profit from the Holocaust: 80 years after the end of the Second World War, German history still offers much that can be creatively exploited. Especially when it comes to ignoring Jewish fates, filmmakers are in their element. And not just German ones, to be fair. This irritating trend began years ago with "Downfall," and Jonathan Glazer took it to extremes with "The Zone of Interest."

Fatih Akin joins in. "Amrum" tells the story of a very blond boy on a North Sea island who wants to help his depressed Nazi mother. She gave birth just as Hitler's death was announced on the radio. Now she has no appetite. Or at most, she's in the mood for a white loaf of bread with butter and honey. The boy sets out on an adventure to get her breakfast in times of scarcity. German critics find it a brilliant story, for whatever reason.

"Looking into the Sun," Mascha Schilinski's second feature film, garnered even greater enthusiasm. The competition entry, an associative, strictly stylized drama, wafts through 100 years of German history, using sudden leaps in time to tell the story of the lives of four girls from four generations on a farm in Altmark.

You have to imagine a long, drawn-out film. Grainy images that sometimes threaten to drown in darkness, then catch plenty of sunlight again. Something between Ingmar Bergman and Terrence Malick. If you understand it correctly, it's about transferred guilt and inherited trauma, with the Holocaust remaining a blank space. Schilinski certainly had something in mind. "Looking Into the Sun" is a film that lets its audience know that they're smarter than they are. Germany sees a chance of winning a Palme d'Or.

Is it still possible to tell meaningful stories about the Shoah? Wojciech Soczewica is an optimistic man. The CEO of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Foundation came to Cannes to facilitate better Holocaust films. Or at least more truthful ones.

He's looking for funding. Auschwitz is currently scanning every corner of the concentration camp. "Picture from Auschwitz" is the name of the project, which aims to provide film productions with a digital replica of the camp. The goal is to finally make the concentration camp look exactly as it did in reality.

The only condition is that the films aim for an authentic portrayal. "If we are convinced that a film is based on facts, we grant the license," Soczewica said in an interview with the NZZ. Not every film receives the kosher stamp, so to speak.

A Tarantino who radically rewrites the history of World War II, as in "Inglourious Basterds," would not be given the 3D model: "Our foundation stands for authenticity," emphasizes Soczewica. "If someone wants to tell a fictional story that doesn't correspond to the facts, that might be very exciting, but it won't be done in cooperation with the memorial."

The project was born because filming is forbidden in Auschwitz. It would simply not be feasible, as Soczewica explains: "We have two million visitors every year, and the number is growing. That's about 1,000 per hour." There's no room for film crews. Not to mention the damage they could cause. However, they can cause this in other ways.