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"Killer Tomatoes® ON THE CROISETTE"

The Cannes Film Festival, Crown Jewel of the Cinematic Experience, figurative Mecca of the Filmic Firmament, was graced by the presence of "The Director's Cut of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes®" in 1995. For those of you who missed Cannes '95, or haven't been yet, here are the observations of director John DeBello, who attended.

There are, I discovered, actually two Cannes Film Festivals…three if you count the Hot D'Or, the decidedly unsanctioned adult version of the same held simultaneously-and fortuitously-at my hotel just up the Coast. But I digress.

Cannes #1 is the French version, replete with red carpets, dignitaries and dowagers, all attending exclusive "premiere" screenings of films you and I saw last week at the local multiplex. And, if said picture hasn't hit town yet, it's only because it has no commercial prospects whatsoever, lacking both pyrotechnics and a plot. However, as neither of those attributes impress the Glitterai Francais, they have a fine 'ol Fest.

Cannes #2 is the Film Market, where a Rapidly Diminishing number of independent film producers meet with a Rapidly Diminishing number of international film buyers and mutually decry the indisputable fact that the Majors are driving them all out of business. At which point they discuss projects that will never get made starring actors they can never afford, and then go to a blow-out party, usually paid for by a Major.

Sad to say, I attended few soires while in Cannes, preferring to spend quality time with my new Austrian girlfriend, Carmen. However, at one event, I did meet Dennis Hopper, who complimented Carmen on her rather wild Italian earrings. To which she replied "Who's Dennis Hopper?"

Strolling on the beach, I participated in the quintessential Cannes moment…spotting a gaggle (google?) of photogs clustered in a small circle, firing away, I wormed my way to the center and beheld the object of their attention-a comely lass with two magnificently large attributes and one tiny mono-kini. Two days later, I observed an Even Better moment; same cluster, same subject--and a pair of topless girls at water's edge wondering just what was going on. Curious, they approached the perimeter of the cluster and tried to wedge their way inside, to see what all the fuss was about. But the topless girls couldn't get past the camera guys 'cause they were too busy focusing on a topless girl. A wonderfully surreal moment.

Nonetheless, the highlight of the adventure was, of course, Killer Tomatoes®. Our distributor had hired a wiry little Frenchman to wear a Disney-concocted Killer Tomato® costume, which he did so with abandon, grid-locking traffic, terrorizing tourists, evading the cops, and cornering celebrities. I still have a picture of a rather dazed-looking Roger Ebert in the clutches of the beast.

Upon first meeting our Tomato-man, he introduced himself in broken English. We must have chatted for, oh, I don't know, a good 15 seconds before he reached into his briefcase and pulled out…a script. You see, not only was he an actor, a stuntman, and, to be honest, a damn good Killer Tomato, he was a writer, and had this project, and ya da ya da ya da…

It was at this moment I realized that Film is, indeed, the International Language.