Everything I Spent at the Cannes Film Festival as an Indie Filmmaker
The drinks and celeb sightings might be free with the price of admission, but it can be hard to keep costs down in Cannes.
This month’s edition highlights Emily Manthei’s seven-day trip to Cannes Film Festival as an indie filmmaker trying to keep costs down. Read on to see how she did against a $1,200 budget.
I journeyed to the French Riviera and drank rosé, gorged myself on cheese, ate pistachio ice cream on the beach, watched films—and yet I don’t know if I would call this a vacation. I also walked more than 30,000 steps a day wearing uncomfortable shoes, stressed about my wardrobe, scheduled 18 meetings, and accidentally lost five pounds.
At the Cannes Film Festival, my goal was to distribute my first micro-budget feature film, Berlin Loop. I front-loaded my trip with a day in Paris, which made for a six-day (seven-day, if you count 38 hours of travel time) trip. This is the life of an indie filmmaker: In the funhouse mirror, you see your reflection in Greta Gerwig on the red carpet, but on your side, it’s a hustle to seek out cheap lodging, free canapés, and invites to the exclusive party where you’ll find rich tech investors.
About the traveler
Job: Freelance writer, director, and documentary filmmaker
Annual salary: $20,000-40,000 per year
Location of residence: Berlin, Germany
Age: 39
About the vacation
Where: Paris and Cannes, France
How long: Seven days
Planned budget: $1,200
Upfront costs
Trains: €242.29 ($263). Living in Europe, I take the train whenever I can. While it’s definitely slower than planes, it minimizes my carbon footprint and maximizes comfort. For this trip, I took a night train from Berlin to Paris. In total, I spent about 15 hours on trains from Berlin to Cannes (with a planned layover day in Paris) and 22 hours on buses and trains (note to self: no more overnight buses!) on the way home.
Lodging: €100 ($109). Thanks to an Airbnb disaster with my 15-person extended family last year, Airbnb had given me a $1,220 booking credit that I used toward a studio apartment on the Cannes peninsula, a 20-minute walk from the Palais du Film. Paying an additional €100 ($109) in cleaning fees, I booked five nights. Later, I booked an additional night at a hotel where I didn’t end up staying, so I’m not including that fee here.
Relevant prior expenses: €471.90 ($512.23). I purchased the Cannes Market Badge for access to the giant Marché du Film, a trade show for buying and selling films that includes panels, happy hours on the beach, etc—plus entry to festival screenings.
Day by day
Day 1 - Thursday
Total cost: €121.06 ($130.23)
I loaded up on snacks for €13.26 ($14.26) and rode the Austrian NightJet train through the night to Frankfurt, where I was abruptly awoken at 5 am to learn that the train—which was meant to go all the way to Paris—would terminate here. I grabbed a quick coffee at the station for €2.80 ($3) and changed trains. The 6 am train from Frankfurt dropped me off in Paris Gare l’Est at around 9:30 am. Retrieving a few extra Metro tickets I had from my last trip, I used one to take the metro to Gare du Lyon and stored my luggage for €5.50 ($5.97). Then, I embarked on a planned Parisian mission: finding comfortable but stylish black shoes, since nice footwear is required for red carpet premieres and villa parties. This quest took me to several shoe stores in a 1970s-era underground Westfield Mall containing a Krispy Kreme. As a Californian living in Berlin, where there is no Krispy Kreme, I had to indulge for €2.50 ($3). Don’t judge me.
After finding a jumpsuit on sale at Monoprix for €29.58 ($32.11), I bought some black sandals at Zara for €39.95 ($43.36). They were a size too big because all of Paris seemed to be out of my size in black shoes. Then, I took to the streets for my favorite vacation activity: aimless wandering. Eventually I popped into a boulangerie for a giant tuna baguette and sweet almond pastry for a total of €7.60 ($8.25), which was enough food to last me the rest of the day.
I ate my lunch along the Seine, then hopped on a 4 pm train. Five hours later, I was in the center of Cannes at an Irish pub with six other filmmakers, sipping my first cocktail of the festival: a margarita. My producing partner, Jenny, was crashing at my Airbnb for a couple of nights, so she paid for the drink and then the cab to the (tiny!) apartment.
Day 2 - Friday
Total cost: €44 ($47.76)
On the first festival morning, I donned my power outfit: a rust-colored sleeveless silk blouse and matching jacket, with gold and black leopard-print trousers. Jenny and I marched up the peninsula between docked yachts, a palm tree-lined sidewalk, and construction barriers featuring celebrities. The walk along the sidewalk above the beach was like a peek behind the festival curtain. Big delivery trucks docked on the main street, La Croisette, next to temporary restaurants set up along the beach. Their drivers wheeled crates of liquor back and forth as garbage trucks collected last night’s glass bottles.
I had done research on thousands of participants and scheduled wall-to-wall meetings, but I had one minor hitch: My five-year-old phone was nearing its planned obsolescence and often refused to connect to maps and emails. Problems of a technical nature were on the horizon.
Jenny and I picked up our festival badges and walked through security to the campus of the Marché du Film. Outside of the market hall, the festival campus’ International Village was filled with pop-up tents, where each country’s film commission hosted meetings and networking. Inside, the market hall was packed with booths showcasing films, production equipment, and location tax incentives.
After a few impromptu meetings, the day continued off-campus at a lunch meet-up for Women in Film and Television International (WIFTI). We opted for a quick hummus and pita bread snack for €17 ($18.45) before returning to the boardwalk and taking our first meeting at a beachside lounge rebranded for the festival as the Microsoft Cafe.
Around 3 pm, open-bar happy hours started popping off at the International Village. From the sidewalk entry, there’s a guestlist for each tent—but on the beach side, each flows into the next, and nobody knows if you were invited to Greece or Spain, or nowhere at all. I met up with Derya, a Turkish filmmaker friend, at the UK Pavilion for a glass or two of rosé, then headed to the gourmet cheese table at the Estonian Pavilion. We tried to slip into the beach-side of the German Pavilion, but they had some pretty dedicated bouncers, who kicked us to the sidewalk. Derya announced she had an invite (which she did), and the door-woman nodded her in, so I announced I had an invite too (I didn’t) and walked confidently in behind her.
For dinner, I had recruited a few Berlin friends to meet at a pizzeria a few blocks away. We were joined by a film critic known as the Schmear Hunter. The waitress, a local who understandably resented the festival and all of us faux-monied posers, scowled predictably at our table’s requests. I tipped anyway, bringing my dinner total to €27 ($29.31).
One of my dinner companions invited us to continue the party with him at the lobby bar of the Hotel Majestic to meet the investor who had just agreed to finance his film. We arrived at a table of Americans plucked from a cartoon: a scowling producer leaning on his cane, surrounded by glammed-up power couples drinking their third round of Moscow Mules from copper mugs. Cocktails were €25 each. Jenny and I sat down and ordered espresso martinis while my director-friend talked to his new investor, who wore sunglasses pushed up on his forehead, a floor-length brown monk’s robe, and no shoes. Jenny and I finished our drinks and put them on the table’s tab before walking back to our hotel. My new Parisian sandals rubbed my ankles raw as I walked—so much for comfortable shoes.
Day 3 - Saturday
Total cost: €72.09 ($78.25)
The next morning, I strapped on my sexy-but-uncomfortable shoes, and we discovered the Microsoft Cafe could provide all of the breakfast essentials for free. Next, I headed into the Palais to visit the Nespresso bar on a hot tip from the Schmear Hunter about free cappuccinos. At the documentary hub, I observed a press corp of photographers outside the window, taking photos of Emma Stone and Wilhelm Defoe. I was joined by Jessica, a documentary producer from Portland who became a fast friend.
A few meetings later, I met up with Jenny and a British producer, Mikail, at the Saudi Pavilion, where we discovered a cornucopia of free lunch offerings: smoked salmon bagels, generous cheese options, fruit, and desserts. I took a few more meetings before returning to the Microsoft Cafe, where the bartender was pouring the first glasses of free rosé. Jenny and I decided to start drinking. As the happy hours heated up, we partook in creamy purple yam shots at the Singapore Pavilion, followed by some more rosé, beer and peanuts at the Irish Pavilion, and vodka at the Polish Pavilion.
Finally, I returned to the apartment with aching feet to change into a black backless cocktail dress and very high heels for a party in a villa hosted by the World of Film Festival (WOFF). Jenny and I took a cab there (she paid) and met the Schmear Hunter for pastis-and-gin cocktails at the open bar and chats with fantastically costumed distributors, filmmakers, and producers. My feet ached. Somehow, we acquired lots of perfume samples.
We cabbed back to the central village (Jenny paid again) and stood in front of a bar, the Petit Majestic, discussing films with other festival-goers. Needing a snack, we made our way to a grab-and-go grocery store, where I stockpiled yogurt and fruit (€22.09, or $23.92) before heading back to the bar. Standing in my tall heels, feet screaming, I parted ways with Jenny and tried to call an Uber—but my phone refused to connect. Desperately, I found a hotel and asked the concierge to order me a cab. I took off my heels and sat down. The cab ride, which lasted all of seven minutes, was a whopping €50 ($54.27), a cost I gladly paid in exchange for still having feet.
Day 4 - Sunday
Total cost: €12.50 ($13.57)
Six hours later, I woke up, hungover, with my big toe still numb. Maybe the investor in the monk robe had discovered something profound in his abject shoelessness.
Feeling rough, I opted for the most casual of my Cannes outfits and flat boat shoes. I met a sales agent who offered to represent my film Berlin Loop—first mission, accomplished! I still had a numb big toe and gently pulsing hangover, but suddenly I was on top of the world.
After a Nespresso, I watched works-in-progress documentaries from Palestine. One film, following the Palestine Comedy Club, immediately had me in tears. In it, West Bank comedians try to make sense of their comedy tour after October 7. It was a good moment to remember this festival is more than free coffee and celebrity sightings; sharing these voices at the world’s most influential film festival can make a real impact.
I sat outside on the roof of the building to clear my head. The sun was warm but the wind from the sea carried a chill. I drank some water and zoned out. Then I headed to the Plage des Palmes, wandered over to some lunch event, and grappled with my worsening hangover in the Canadian Pavilion.
When I finally got out of the Canadian Pavilion, I was on the search for a good spot to be sick, because I knew it was coming. Instead, I ran into an Italian filmmaker, Silvia. We hugged and then I excused myself, leaving the festival area and arriving at the foot of a palm tree just in time for a quick puke. Walking back to the hotel along the Croisette, I already felt better. I pondered stopping for ice cream and swimming in the sea, but opted instead for a nap and some Ibuprofen as Jenny left to catch her flight.
When I woke up, I changed and had my €3 ($3.26) pistachio soft-serve. I texted a friend to ask for her film recommendations, and landed on the Jacques Audiard film, Emilia Perez. It’s a trans musical thriller about a drug lord who gets a sex change operation. Or, as The Schmear Hunter described it: “Sicario meets Mrs. Doubtfire, and lest I forget to mention, it’s a musical.”
Day 5 - Monday
Total cost: €37.88 ($41.12)
Feeling better in both feet and head, I put on my black sandals and met two friends who had also seen Emilia Perez for an off-campus breakfast. If you can’t achieve awe in a cinema, incessant conversation is good enough. My friend Madeleine bought breakfast on her company’s expense account.
After an early free lunch at the Saudi Pavilion and another meeting, I decided to venture into town to find some new sunglasses (mine had broken) and bandaids at Monoprix, spending €22.98 ($24.94). After applying the band-aids to my feet, I returned to the Marché for another meeting and the works-in-progress screening of my new friend Jessica’s film, Pour the Water as I Leave, directed by Daniela Repas. The project uses live-action, expressionistic modern dance, which is subsequently animated, to tell the stories of war survivors and refugees from Bosnia.
The day ended with another meeting, and my first glass of rosé since Saturday, in a hotel lobby with a French producer/philosopher. I grabbed a panini for €11.90 ($12.92) and went to a screening of shorts called Straight8. Each was made of a single three-minute canister of Super8 film, shot and submitted without processing or post-production. The festival showcased the eight best reels—bursts of creativity, charming mistakes, and all—with even the filmmakers seeing their creations for the first time.
Day 6 - Tuesday
Total cost: €119.90 ($130.15)
Although Monday was my last night at the Airbnb, my train home was scheduled for 6 am Wednesday, so I booked Tuesday night at a farther-away hotel for $100. On Tuesday morning, I packed up the room and rolled my suitcase to lunch with Jessica and Daniela, the female documentary filmmakers who had become my friends, as well as some friends from Berlin. We talked about everything—women’s voices, underrepresented narratives, refugee filmmakers, and the way documentaries provide space for conversations that are even more important than the films themselves. Jessica insisted on buying us lunch.
Afterwards, I planned to take the Cannes public bus to my new hotel, but after waiting for half an hour and getting on a bus, I somehow ended up back at the central train station. I wrote to Jessica and asked if I could crash with her instead, eating the cost of that last-minute hotel booking. Jessica said yes, but I was still stuck with my suitcase. The festival campus, crawling with security, refused to let me inside. I stopped in a fancy hotel and asked the receptionist, “Can I store my luggage with you for a few hours?”
“Of course,” he replied politely. “You are staying with us, aren’t you?”
“No,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Maybe a friend…?”
I shook my head.
“I’m trying to help you out,” he whispered. I smiled. “Now. Do you have a friend staying with us?”
I nodded. He asked for the room number, which I dutifully made up. He took my luggage, the dance of deception complete.
Returning to the festival grounds, I had my first and only glass of champagne, went to one last party, and finally retrieved my luggage with Jessica and Daniela before a few brief hours of sleep at their place.
Day 7 - Wednesday
Total cost: €27.90 ($30)
A 6 am train took me away from the festival magic and towards Marseille, but by this point in the trip, I was ready to cut costs. I booked buses (much cheaper than trains) for the larger portion of my return journey, but that meant a longer, less comfortable, ride. Once I got to Marseilles, I went on a bit of a power walk, had an omelet breakfast at a brasserie near the station for €13.50 ($14.52), and walked around some more before getting a second coffee for €2.50 ($3). I bought a salad and chocolate mousse to take with me for €11.90 ($12.80). Then, it was off to the bus station for an epic 12-hour ride to Strasbourg. Luckily, I had my lunch and snacks with me, and I tried to sleep throughout the journey. This resulted in an eternity of napping and waking, what with all the destination stops and coffee-break stops for the driver.
When we arrived in Strasbourg at 10 pm, I caught the last train across the border to Germany, a 25-minute ride to Offenburg, where I would catch my final train. I waited for 45 minutes on the platform and got on the Flixtrain, a low-cost, slower-than-usual German train, where I soon discovered there was no dining car. Between sleep and the jar of almonds I had brought with me, I made it through the next seven hours before finally pulling into Berlin’s central train station the next day, exhausted from 25 hours of travel.
How it all broke down
Upfront and travel costs: €864.61 ($938.29)
Costs from the week: €385.33 ($414.45)
Final total: €1,249.94 ($1344.39)
How much I spent compared to my original budget: $144.39 over budget