Venice Film Festival has more stars, but they’re less willing to talk
Soaring costs, brief stays, tight control over communication, and the press’s own shortcomings make access to the biggest actors difficult — they are elusive and nearly impossible to interview
The Venice Film Festival buzzes with talk. First, the films speak. Then, thousands of journalists, producers, students, and enthusiasts fuel an endless debate on every corner of the Lido, the island where the festival takes place. It’s enough to keep an ear open to catch reflections of every kind, whether over an early-morning coffee or a late-night spritz.
Only one voice is scarcely heard — even though it’s the very one everyone wants to listen to: the stars’. Many arrive, say a few words at the press conference, and that’s it. They walk the red carpet, pose for photos, sign autographs, take in the applause — and move on. Often quite literally: some don’t even spend more than 24 hours in Venice.
Everything is rushed, so their visit must at least be made comfortable. The celebrity interview is moving ― or perhaps retreating ― toward extinction. At most, roundtables are organized. And they’re increasingly crowded events: a group of privileged journalists, half an hour with two or even three stars. Or sometimes nothing at all: “They will only participate in official events.”
On one hand, the world’s oldest film festival welcomes more divas every year — probably never as many as in this 82nd edition. On the other hand, their silence continues to grow. A contradiction explained by the mix of costs, time, control, social media, and the failings of the media. A complex matter. Like the best films.
“There’s no simple answer. But one thing that’s certain is that there’s no concerted plan to deprive journalists of interviews,” says an agent who requests anonymity and has spent many years at festivals organizing the schedules of directors and actors — or talent, as they are called in the industry.
“I have a lot of respect for the press. They do very important work. I’m very frustrated that our work sometimes focuses so much on protocol — where we go, what time, who sits where — and so little on the cinema,” adds Charles McDonald, a veteran in this profession.
Conversations with the two agents, along with two other off-the-record voices and the festival director Alberto Barbera, offer similar insight to piece together the puzzle. The final picture, however, is not promising.
Above all, as always, there’s the issue of money. Even if the public only sees George Clooney, Oscar Isaac, Cate Blanchett, or Emma Stone, most arrive with entourages — and needs: agents, catering, hair and makeup, security, and countless other details that emphasize their distance from ordinary mortals. Everything comes at a price. A huge one, in this case. “Venice is insanely expensive these days, and productions struggle to cover the costs of bringing the biggest names,” the agent explains. The same problem is seen at the Cannes Film Festival, though in Venice the iconic yet costly water taxis are an added expense.
“Do you know how much it costs to rent a suite at the Excelsior for a day of press activities?” asks another source working in the business. At least €3,700 ($4,320), according to the budget the hotel provided to this outlet. Up to €6,000 ($7,000), or more, when booked through their website. “Sleep with the stars,” reads the promotional line — a slogan whose ambiguity might warrant reconsideration.
In any case, some guests seem to take it literally. McDonald recalls years ago two actors complaining about autograph seekers disturbing their breakfast. The actors had to be relocated to the Danieli, farther away and even more expensive. Add in the rental of cameras and technicians for video interviews. “Things can quickly get out of hand,” the agent sums up.
That’s why cuts have to be made. Time, for example. “Their stays are now very short. They used to stay a week, sometimes now only a day or two. And half their schedule is taken up with festival commitments. So the press departments are forced to choose,” notes Alberto Barbera. One source illustrates this with a real-life example: “I was given an hour and a half with a star. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Many meetings, when they happen, have been cut from 30 to 15 minutes.
McDonald experiences these debates daily as well. He considers the one-on-one chat — called a 1:1 in the industry — the most “interesting and elegant” way to bring journalists and talent together. Group meetings, however, reach a larger number of media outlets. More democratic and realistic, probably. But at the cost of conversation, which often jumps from one topic to another with no more connection than the curiosity of the different reporters: press, interviewees, and readers lose; promotion wins.
Especially when two or three stars sit at the table together, the best guarantee is that only the film will be discussed and nothing else. Just in case, some invitations make this even clearer: “Questions must relate strictly to the film.” Others warn that statements cannot be included in a more general report. Of course, there’s always room to break these rules.
“We try to do the best we can with a small amount of time. I strive, for example, to ensure that the panel discussions never go under 25 minutes,” McDonald notes. Even that, in any case, is difficult. That’s why local distributors — those who have bought the rights to release the film in Spain, Italy, or another region — have to pick up part of the tab: they pay for each slot a journalist from their country gets with a star. More for a one-on-one or television interview, slightly less for group sessions.
The pie is small and highly coveted. So every slice feels exclusive, especially the tastiest ones. And not everyone can afford them. “Inevitably, smaller companies, outlets, and markets are the ones that suffer most. The Portuguese distributor of Father Mother Sister Brother, by Jim Jarmusch, has put a lot of effort into securing a 1:1 for their country. I would love to, but I fear it won’t happen,” says McDonald.
That was precisely one of only two individual interviews EL PAÍS managed to secure, along with Kim Novak. Outside the biggest stars, it’s the agencies themselves that offer talent to journalists — a clear indication of what it means to play in the big leagues, or in the others.
The phenomenon, however, can’t be explained solely by money. “Major productions want direct control over communications, choosing only companies and media outlets they know, and guaranteeing a certain product and impact,” says Barbera. “There’s a reluctance to give as many interviews as before. Actors’ own contracts sometimes set the exact number, and the performer’s press officer participates in the decision-making process.”
McDonald agrees: “There’s a real desire for the safest possible profile. Agents sometimes go overboard with protection, and when you get access to talent, it’s easier than dealing with their entourage, but they have their reasons,” adds McDonald.
Even though the public may see them as divinities, companies know stars are human. Varied and imperfect. Good or terrible speakers, professional or capricious, sociable or surly, with much to say or nothing at all. So agents have also learned to play Tetris: the limited eloquence of one star can be offset by placing another beside them.
The sum, however, subtracts. Last year, a controversial manifesto promoted by a freelance journalist lamented that celebrities no longer speak. But the situation, 12 months later, remains identical — or worse. And the press cannot only criticize the situation: it is part of the problem. This is seen every day at the festival conferences, with reporters applauding the stars’ arrival, starting their questions with compliments or even declarations of love, and rushing to take a photo at the end. Like any fan. Or a friend — the kind of relationship that unites many film journalists with their interviewees.
“Even if a 1:1 is organized, stimulating for both parties, and the writer prepares an in-depth and well-thought-out article, it’s quite possible that the outlet will try to get as many clicks as possible, starting with the headline,” says McDonald. “Many publicists cite this as a reason not to grant interviews, or to ensure they are conducted in pairs.” Sometimes, after 20 minutes of conversation and many more to arrange and publish it, only one phrase remains — taken out of context. And quickly amplified across social media.
This model has also generated another shift in communication. Stars now interact directly with audiences. And it takes very little to create a stir, as McDonald explains: “Years ago, I brought the film Bones and All by Luca Guadagnino. And, to be honest, just Timothée Chalamet’s presence on the red carpet and at the press conference was enough to create the necessary buzz.” Everyone was already talking about it. Why say more?
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