Cannes 2012 is so last week. Will Noah and Max Nelson present an exclusive look at next year’s iteration of the historic festival.


The festival opens with Woody Allen’s latest European sojourn, Berlin There, Done That, in which an incredulous Michael Cera travels back to 1930s Germany and witnesses the rise of the Third Reich; hilarity ensues.

Lars von Trier defies the Cannes authorities and one-ups Jafar Panahi by smuggling himself into the festival hidden inside a very large meringue.

French cultural officials offer the US to trade two of their cinematic luminaries for James Gray and Jerry Lewis. Over the protestations of American cinephiles demanding Claire Denis and Leos Carax, the American government chooses Michel Hazanavicius and “the chick from Inception”.

Footage leaks from Claire Denis’ opening night party of Gaspar Noé and Bruno Dumont drunkenly trying to imitate Denis Lavant’s end-credits breakdance from Beau Travail. When asked if it was he who shot the video, Wes Anderson just smiles mischievously.

Michael Haneke breaks down in tears during a press conference, apologizes to festival- and moviegoers for decades of abuse: “I just wanted you guys to like me,” he sobs.

Jean-Luc Godard releases his newest film, a retelling of the Oresteia set on Harvey Weinstein’s yacht, subtitled in Pig Latin. [1]

Takashi Miike screens 104 films; one for every candle on Manoel de Olveira’s birthday cake.

David Lynch admits that he was “just kidding about the whole transcendental meditation thing.”

Xavier Dolan’s mom makes sandwiches for the entire Un Certain Regard lineup.

Pedro Costa and Tsai Ming-Liang, worried that long takes have become too cliché, compete to see who can cram more shots into a two-hour film. Costa gains an early lead but can’t resist ending his film with a 17-minute take, letting Tsai shoot ahead. No one notices what either film is about.

Alain Resnais refuses to die, prompting critics to hail his new film as his third swan song.

The Dardenne Bros crush Nattys, announce plans to score all future films to dubstep. When asked about their cinematic influences, they respond “indie shit, like the Boondock Saints.”

The newly prolific Terence Malick writes, shoots and edits a film during the festival (where he already has three films in competition), premieres it three hours before the awards ceremony. It wins the Palme d’Or.

The jury is headed by a hologram of Andrei Tarkovsky.

[1] CORRECTION: Mr. Godard has informed us that he is working on no such project, and is instead making a film about a talking dog, shot in 3D using a camera he made himself out of two specially-outfitted cell phones. We apologize for any confusion.