It's autumn 2008 and the markets are in free fall. Shia LaBeouf's Wall Street hotshot stalks Frank Langella's wise old lion through Central Park. "Are we going under?" he asks anxiously. "Who isn't?" says Langella and it is at this point that the camera directs our attention to a fat soap bubble that wafts up from the park to wobble delicately in a clear blue sky. This is to show that we are all living in a bubble and that the bubble is about to burst.
Hey ho, no one ever looked to Oliver Stone for nuance and subtlety. The director is the maestro of the broad brushstroke, the bold (and sometimes garbled) polemic, and Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps is a film that leaves no tub unthumped. And maybe that's OK. Even if this rather runs out of steam beyond the halfway mark, it remains a brashly entertaining yarn from the frontline of the financial crisis.
Michael Douglas gives a rousing reprise of Gordon Gekko, who is now out of jail and singing for his supper on the lecture circuit, having shrewdly recast himself as a crusader against the evils of unfettered speculation: "I used to say that greed is good. Now, it seems, it's legal." Elsewhere, the role of Satan falls to Josh Brolin, who plays a banking tycoon so rich and cultured that he has one of Goya's black paintings hanging on the wall of his Park Avenue townhouse. Along the way, Stone whips up a tale of losses, and of love as well. LaBeouf loves Gekko's daughter (Carey Mulligan) who hates her dad but loves him too, and we sit in the dark for over two hours to see how it all pans out. "Ah, relationships – they're like bubbles," explains Gekko. It's all about bubbles with Oliver Stone. The only thing missing is a few random shots of Michael Jackson's chimp – just to be sure we really get the message.
Out on the sands by the International Village, we meet the Zombie Women of Satan, here to drum up business for their low-budget horror flick that's screening in the market. Inside, among the stalls, I see no further sign of it, although we do run across Pornorama and Titanic 2, creature features and Z-grade action capers. Despite the straitened times (the financial crisis and all that), the Cannes Marché is as reassuringly exuberant as ever.
Shehani, the Guardian's redoubtable video producer, lines up the salespeople and has them pitch their produce. It is a vintage year for animal movies and 3D animation, so it therefore follows that the best thing of all is that golden double-whammy, the 3D animal animation. Space Dogs 3D is about a pair of canine cosmonauts, while Cinderella 3D repurposes the fairytale princess as a kind of ... well, I'm not sure what, exactly. She has long eyelashes and a demure smile; honey-coloured fur and the hint of a snout. The sales agent waxes lyrical about "immersive animation" and attention to detail, about how this film has taken Cinderella and made her into a wild west heroine.
"And," says Shehani politely, "is Cinderella a cat or a dog?"
The sales agent gives a pained little smile. It turns out that she's a deerhttp://www.gazelle-magazin.de/forum
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