A blog by Damon Stapleton, Chief Creative Officer, The Monkeys New Zealand.
“Life is a journey to the limits of knowledge and then a leap into the unknown.” – DH Lawrence
Here is the first moment.
Cannes doesn’t really know what to do when it rains. Nothing really works. The red carpets get muddy, the self-tanner streaks run into the gutters and the ridiculous espadrilles you bought to look French (which you really don’t want to do) start to fall apart. The only people who cope well are the men in the little beach cafes who seem to magically have an endless supply of umbrellas at €15 each.
It was Wednesday. I had bought an umbrella and was feeling pretty smug as I watched American power joggers get soaked. I watched their ears get wet and their very expensive Bluetooth earbuds slip and smash onto the boardwalk. You could see the panic in their eyes. What if Chicago calls in the next ten minutes?
As much as I was enjoying it, I had to keep walking. Suddenly I was face to face with one of my favorite scenes in my 20 years of coming to Cannes. And believe me, I have seen some strange things. In the pouring rain I saw a man sitting in a steel deck chair. He was wearing a soaked three-piece suit. He had no shoes on. In front of him was an empty bottle of Dom Perignon. Beside him was a set of golf clubs. As I walked past he said “good morning” in the way you do when you want to appear sober. I started laughing. You just know some PR person has freaked out because the three-piece suit did something like that last night. And I would really like to know about the golf clubs.
The more I go to Cannes, the more I look for moments like that. Authentic and without artifice. We all go to Cannes to be inspired. It’s the brilliant work you see. It’s the incredible people you get to talk to and listen to. But sometimes it’s the madness of the place. You catch a glimpse or see something in Cannes that gives you a drive or a story. It reminds us that we’re all part of a strange tribe, but a tribe nonetheless.
Are there a lot of bullshit artists at Cannes who only speak in jargon that you’d need an Enigma machine to decipher? Yes. Is anyone talking about advertising dying in the next 12 months? Since I’ve been there. Do people look over your shoulder as you speak to see if there are more important people in the room? Yes. Do we now live in a world where measurement has become more important than what is being measured? Possibly. Is there a new formula for foolproof creativity? Every year. Have some works not won that should have? Depends who you ask. Do a lot of people who are not creatives explain creativity to creatives? Absolutely, and late into the night. Is Cannes getting too big? The same question is asked every year.
The truth is that these questions don’t really matter because Cannes is just a reflection of us and our industry. We look at ourselves. It shows us where we are, whether we like it or not. Many have written about this in the last week. So I thought I would write about the second moment that inspired me instead.
Walking around Cannes you see a lot of little tents. There are a lot of weird words in there. Words that are mostly made up of two older words. Adtech. Words like precision, engagement and platform. Sentences that start with the words “the future of”. You see things changing. But personally I was looking for something different this year. A bit of old school inspiration. Passion and excitement. Words we don’t use as much as we should. I was looking for that feeling you get as a creative when you first take a leap. You go beyond what you thought was possible. That feeling of “holy shit, that’s why I’m doing this”. On Friday night I got it.
Here is my second moment.
Jacques Seguela is nearly 90 years old. But he has more energy than all the Red Bulls have used up this week in tiny hotel rooms doing early morning meetings. He won the Lion of St. Mark. The highest individual award you can win at Cannes. He is a French advertising pioneer and the prize is well deserved. He danced on stage. You could see the joy. He charmed the audience with his perfect French-English. He was inspiration in human form. He was positivity and freedom. Everything about him said: forget the nonsense, let’s have fun, let’s do something great. This is fucking exciting. Show your fucking passion. Jump. Do it. A feeling advertising should never forget or underestimate.
During his speech he asked the audience a simple question.
What happens when snow melts?
A few people in the audience muttered “water.” A few shouted it out more confidently.
Monsieur Seguela looked at the audience challengingly. He shouted in the most French way imaginable: “No, no, no.”
And then he gave a very simple, perfect and beautiful answer.
Spring is coming. Wow, wow, wow. Spring is coming.
Thank you, Jacques.
Thank you, Cannes.
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