Hail, César! A Starry Night at the French Cinema Awards

I’m on the edge of my plush red velvet chair, peering down at France’s cinema royalty. Some are still milling about, in no hurry to take their seats. Some of the nominees greet each other with broad smiles, masking their nervousness; others are whispering to their neighbours, checking out the scene. The excitement is palpable; the mood, ebullient. And no wonder. After a chaotic photo call and a glass of champagne (or two) grabbed off a tray before the red-carpet strut inside Paris’s Olympia theatre, the film-industry-packed audience is now buzzing with expectation. 

With my ringside seat up in the mezzanine, it’s easy to spot some of the major players: actor Jean Dujardin, sporting a greying beard, is chatting with actress Isabelle Huppert, whose oversized, thick-framed dark sunglasses conceal most of her face. 

The 51st César Awards ceremony—the French equivalent of the Oscars—is about to begin. 

It’s all very glamorous, but Hollywood it is not, nor is the vibe anything like the Cannes Film Festival. Sober chic is de rigueur: a sea of black sans fashionista frivolity. This is not the place for flimsy gowns with long, trippable trains and breathy, teary-eyed acceptance speeches. Here, with 24 categories spread across 110 nominated films and a ceremony that lasts more than three hours, you’re more likely to hear heartfelt proclamations about the current state of French cinema. 

Meanwhile, all eyes are riveted on the front row, where a grinning Jim Carrey—who will later receive an honorary César award—is already the talk of the town. 

Then, enfin, it’s showtime—the sparkly lights dim and actress Camille Cottin, Ceremony President (in a perfectly cut slinky black dress… and Macron-esque aviator glasses), steps onto the stage to kick off the evening with a message: “French cinema is very much alive… and it is fragile. It’salive because it’s fragile. You have to make a lot of films in order for a few gems to emerge.” And yes, she tells us, France is also the second-largest exporter of films in the world after the US. Ah oui? 

But who wants to fact-check, now that Benjamin Lavernhe—a standout actor of the Comédie-Française and former César-nominated actor—takes the stage to the tune of thunderous applause. His energy-pumped performances are what everyone will later remember: first, an elaborate dance number, clad in a baggy bright yellow suit, a nod to Jim Carrey’s role in The Mask. Then, lickety-split, a quick change of costume and it’s salsa time, surrounded by a squad of dancing New York–uniformed police officers who whoosh into the aisles, then swiftly disappear backstage. 

The audience is loving it. 

As for the prize-giving—handing the winner a clunky four-kilo gilded bronze statuette that is essentially abstract art, a compressed block of metal designed by the famed sculptor César—this year’s edition flowed smoothly, with no provocative outbursts. (Who remembers when actress Corinne Masiero, the 2021 winner of the Best Costume award, stripped on stage during the live broadcast to reveal messages written on her body demanding more government support for the struggling cultural sector amid COVID-19 closures?) 

Still, there were a few serious appeals to recognize injustice. 

Isabelle Adjani, while presenting the Best Actor award (which went to Laurent Lafitte for his role in The Richest Woman in the World, inspired by the story of French billionaire Liliane Bettencourt), asked all the men in the room to stand and applaud “in honor of women victims of sexual assault” who have suffered violence, explicitly including Iranian women. Add to that Iranian actress Golshifteh Farahani, who made an impassioned speech about the situation back home. 

The most unexpected moment came during a medley of clips shown in tribute to iconic Brigitte Bardot, when boos were heard in the audience—presumably because of her right-wing political stance. 

Ironically, perhaps, it was an American filmmaker, Richard Linklater, who won the Best Director award for his black-and-white film Nouvelle Vague, which recreates the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s New Wave 1960 classic Breathless. Call it a cinephile’s period piece, en français, destined to please an arthouse audience. (Linklater did not attend the ceremony; nor did American director Paul Thomas Anderson, who was awarded the prize for Best International Feature for his Oscar-nominated One Battle After the Other.) 

But nothing could top the high point of the evening, when Camille Cottin and French director Michel Gondry (best known for his 2004 quirky drama Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) invited Jim Carrey to accept his honorary award, followed by a lengthy standing ovation. Close-ups of Carrey’s beaming youthful face even set off a wave of wild speculation on the Internet about an impersonator—bah, rubbish! 

If the César Awards sometimes precipitate global distribution, then you can look forward to an entire roster of great films playing in your neighborhood theater, starting with Carine Tardieu’s film L’Attachement (The Ties That Bind Us), the best French film of the year, starring Valeria Bruni Tedeschi as a woman who develops an emotional bond with a young father and his children. Everyone will also be keeping an eye on the best female and male breakthrough prizes—non-professional newcomer Nadia Melliti for her role in The Little Sister, a queer coming-of-age drama about the youngest sibling growing up in an Algerian family in a Paris suburb—and Canadian actor Théodore Pellerin in Nino, about a young man who discovers he has a serious illness. 

It’s after midnight by the time all the winners have given their thanks and are finally herded onto the stage for one last photo. I stifle a yawn and try to ignore my rumbling stomach as we stagger out of our seats and step into the night. A shuttle awaits to take us to the Champs-Élysées—to the landmark brasserie Fouquet’s—for the next round of celebration at the César Awards’ official sit-down dinner for 700 guests. 

Inside, the awards attendees swirl about, congratulating each other, while waiters stand poised like statues with trays of champagne. In the romantic haze of bubbles and warmth, it feels like the French cinema world is one big happy family. 

By the time we finish the elegant three-course dinner—lobster and tangerine salad, veal pot-au-feu, and a vanilla-and-chestnut pastry—it’s nearly half past three. But the room is still very much awake as another César night slowly fades to black.