It’s 2:21 p.m. and I’m basking in the sun by the sea, writing.

Day 3 began bright and early in the Grand Theatre Lumiere for the premiere of Netflix’s first ever competition film, “Okja.” The highly anticipated, highly controversial film had a rocky start. The screen did not fully raise and half of the audience began booing, clapping and shouting to get it fixed. After 15 minutes, the screen was fixed and “Okja” began again. The film, a comment on the mass meat production industry disguised as an action movie, was absolutely incredible. You can read the full review here when it’s posted.

I ran out of “Okja” a few minutes early and headed to the Majestic Barriere hotel for the second talk of the “Women in Motion” series. Today’s speaker was the accomplished French actress Isabelle Huppert (“Elle,” “The Piano Teacher”). Unlike the Robin Wright chat, however, this talk was conducted in French.

The only French I know is basic formalities, greetings and one phrase, “The cat is black.” Unfortunately, none of this would help me understand what Isabelle Huppert was talking about. What did help was the set of headphones I was handed by a staff member who had the impressive ability to pick out non-French speakers — there weren’t many of us in the room. When the chat began, it took a minute to get used to the lag time between what Huppert and the Variety moderator said and the English translation. Like watching a movie where the words don’t match up to the mouths, it was a strange experience.

After the chat ended, I set out to do some work. Though my laptop is out, I haven’t gotten much done. Why? Cannes is a great place to network.

It works in an interesting way. You find a table where one or two other people are sitting and ask to join them. Introductions are made, then sooner or later a conversation begins. In the three hours I’ve been “working”, I have met a producer/director couple from the U.K., a retired writer and a German film student. We all exchanged business cards.

Day 3 (part 2)

It is now 1:30 a.m. and I’m in my post at the Airbnb, eating cold pizza. Tonight included no parties or red carpets, but instead an expensive cocktail and some incredibly blistered feet.

After a dinner of pizza and an afternoon of writing, Sydney and I headed to the Carlton Hotel to get a cocktail around 8:00 p.m. While there we met a record producer who, of course, wanted to trade business cards. Then I ran into a friend I’d met the night before. After finishing our drinks, we left the Carlton and followed them to dinner, European style. It was 11:30 p.m. by the time we were seated, at a gorgeous Italian restaurant called La Mome, situated on a quaint side street. The street was actually far more glamorous than the famed Carlton Hotel. Well dressed men and women lined the street, eating and drinking into the wee hours of the morning.

The lack of celebrities seen at the Carlton was made up for when Paul Dano (“Swiss Army Man”) and later, Michelle Williams (“Manchester by the Sea”) strolled down the street for a late bite.

Now I am going to bed, ready to wake up at 6:45 and do it all over again tomorrow. It’s becoming clear that getting more than five hours of sleep per night is not going to happen here. But who’s complaining?