Sean Penn has long been a crusader for countless causes and undertakings, presumably (and probably) with the interests of the greater good at heart. That’s not a bad thing, in and of itself. In fact, it’s wonderful. And admirable.

However, many malign the star for using most every opportunity, no matter how far removed from the context of the cause at hand, to champion these things, and just generally guilt the public for not allocating the same time and energy that he has to crusade for these causes. Seeing as most of the world doesn’t enjoy a successful actor’s schedule, nor a successful actor’s salary to champion these causes, it’s no surprise that, upon the umpteenth guilt trip and plea, the public begins to roll its collective eyes and just wish he would give it a rest. Some times we just want to have a smoothie and screw around, ya know?

No, Sean Penn does not accept your challenge to a "tickle fight."

The impetus for this piece stems from the most recent plea/outburst/tantrum/call to arms that Penn unleashed upon the world from a seemingly lofty perch at the Cannes Film Festival on a French beach.

Speaking to the groundswell of support for Haiti follwing the catastrophic earthquake the country endured in 2010, Penn offered up this little nugget to someone with a microphone point in his general direction:

It’s not only celebrities that went (to Haiti) to help only for a day. It’s the whole fucking world. It’s the entire media. It’s all of you.

Okay, then.

Sean Penn’s upset with the whole fucking world. It must be a day that ends in “y.”

Let me say: He’s got a point. In the world of social media, Darfur t-shirts, and pop-up telethons, there’s a tendency to get swept up in a cause, then forget about it as the fervor surrounding it dies down. However, the same phenomena that lead people to drop the cause are often the same ones that lead people to engage in it in the first place.

"Every time you smile, an Arab woman gets stoned to death for trying to drive her infant to a hospital."

So rather, than saying, “Thanks for the outpouring of charity and effort following the this horrible event,” Penn takes us (I’m a part of the whole world too, you know) to task for not giving more.

And that’s pretty fucking obnoxious. We can’t travel to Tehran, we can’t find our way into Cuba to interview Fidel Castro’s brother, and we can’t get on planes to witness rebuilding efforts firsthand.

It’s absolutely terrific that he has the ability and inclination to do exactly those things, but being a dick about it seems to be counterproductive. There’s a reason that charities don’t guilt us into contributing our time and money. Sure, those Sarah McLachlan puppy ads do that, but those are more closely with tearing up and changing the channel than they are with successfully soliciting donations. All the evidence I have that speaks to that point is anecdotal, but it’s still staggering.

If he keeps up this “tough love” marketing approach to Haiti and his other causes, there’s a decent chance that he’s going to be doing them a disservice.

He’s right. I haven’t heard much about Haiti recently. But when the only thing I do hear about it is Sean Penn bitching at me and humanity from Cannes, that doesn’t exactly endear me to the cause, regardless of how much suffering and strife exists there today.

You’re probably doing great things for lots of different causes, Sean. But you’re not exactly a people person, so make your mark by continuing to do great things, and not berating us for not taking action, whatever our obstacles to it may be.

Oh, and I’m really looking forward to Gangster Squad. Shit looks tight.

I’m not sorry… I’m sorry that I didn’t make it clear that it was a joke. But I can’t be sorry for what I said—it’s against my nature… I don’t think there is a right or wrong thing to say. I think that anything can be said. That is very much me. The same with film—anything can be done in a film. If it can be thought in the human mind, then it could be said and it could be seen on a film. Of course you get troubles for it afterwards, that’s for sure, but that doesn’t make it wrong. To say I’m sorry for what I said is to say I’m sorry for what kind of a perso I am, I’m sorry for my morals, and that would destroy me as a person. It’s not true. I’m not sorry. I am not sorry for what I said. I’m sorry that it didn’t come out more clearly. I’m not sorry that I made a joke, but I’m sorry that I didn’t make it clear that it was a joke. But I can’t be sorry for what I said—it’s against my nature.

I think he’s trying to say he’s not sorry. At any rate, while it’s probably a bad idea to joke around about Hitler, I understand what he’s trying to say. And to be honest, after watching the following video, you’ll probably find yourself sympathizing with Hitler as well.

(/Film)

While drumming up some business at Cannes, one producer described the film like so: “It is just like [being a] voyeur near someone’s bed.” Man, now I want to chip in to get this thing distributed. Anyway, no information on a release date or anything like that. But if you’re patient, I’m sure the information will come eventually. Heh, “come.” (Movieline)

Best Picture, the The Palme d’Or winner: Terrence Malick,’The Tree Of Life‘
The Grand Prix:  (tie): Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, ‘The Kid with a Bike’ and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, ‘Once Upon A Time In Anatolia’
Best Director: Nicolas Winding Refn -’Drive
Best Actor: Jean Dujardin, ‘The Artist‘
Best Actress: Kirsten Dunst, ‘Melancholia‘
Best Screenplay Joseph Cedar, ‘Footnote’
The Jury Prize: Maïwenn, ‘Poliss’
Camera d’Or: Pablo Giorgelli, ‘Las Acacias’
Short Film Palme d’Or: Maryna Vroda, ‘Cross-Country’

There you have it. The movie I’m most excited to see is Drive, followed by The Tree of Life and Melancholia – provided all the prints of the latter aren’t thrown into a huge bonfire due to Lars Von Trier’s “Nazi” remarks. See you at Cannes next year, everybody! (The Playlist)

“The Festival de Cannes provides artists from around the world with an exceptional forum to present their works and defend freedom of expression and creation. The board of directors profoundly regrets that this forum has been used by Lars von Trier to express comments that are unacceptable, intolerable, and contrary to the ideals of humanity and generosity that preside over the very existence of the festival. The Board of Directors firmly condemns these comments and declares Lars von Trier a persona non grata at the Festival de Cannes, with effect immediately.”

There you have it. It’s not known if Von Trier’s persona non grata status is just for this year, indefinite, or what. It’s really too bad he can’t use the David Bowie excuse of “that wasn’t a Nazi salute, I was just waving.” (Deadline)

“For a long time I was a Jew and I was happy to be a Jew, then I met Susanne Bier [fellow Danish director and this year's Oscar winner for Best Foreign Language Film] and I wasn’t so happy. But then I found out I was actually a Nazi. My family was German. That also gave me pleasure. What can I say? I understand Hitler. I sympathize with him a bit. I don’t mean I’m in favor of World War II and I’m not against Jews, not even Susanne Bier. In fact I’m very much in favor of them. All Jews. Well, Israel is a pain in the ass [pause] … How can I get out of this sentence? OK, I’m a Nazi.”

This caused the predictable uproar, with the heads of the Cannes Film Festival demanding an explanation. So, in probably the most surprising development of this story, Von Trier has actually apologized:

“If I have hurt someone this morning by the words I said at the press conference, I sincerely apologize. I am not anti-semitic or racially prejudiced in any way, nor am I a Nazi.”

Von Trier was then quoted as saying “don’t have a cow, man!” before speeding off on his skateboard. (Deadline)

The deal with financier QED International gives Arnold the big payday, plus 25% of the first dollar gross. QED will sell the worldwide distribution rights at Cannes. So: money, money, money.

In Cry Macho, Schwarzenegger plays a Kentucky Derby-winning horse breeder whose life turns to figurative horse shit. The only way he can keep his job is to kidnap the boss’ son from his ex-wife’s mansion in Mexico. Yeah, I think we’ve all been there, am I right? I guess we’ll have to see if this movie gallops to the front on the box office, so Schwarzenegger gets to keep his old job of starring in movies. (Deadline)

The official line-up is getting announced on April 14, but it’s now known that the eagerly anticipated Brad Pitt/Sean Penn/dinosaur drama Tree of Life directed by Terrence Malick. He’s joining Lars von Trier and Gus Van Sant (or is it Lars Von Trier and Gus van Sant??), so this looks like it will be a Cannes to remember. I can’t wait to see you there! (via Variety)

Anyway, the movie has a typically Woody Allen cast full of standouts, including Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard,  Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody, and a cameo appearance the wife of the President of France, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy. I hope she speaks English and knows how to pronounce “Dostoevsky,” otherwise she’s doomed to fail in a Woody Allen movie. (via Deadline)

After the excitement, confusion, and downright insanity of the legend that is Jacques D’Azur, an heir has finally been found.

Amid extreme secrecy Stella Artois 4% whisked him away to the Cannes Film Festival in order to represent his surrogate father. After a quick make over, Junior D’Azur (as we’re calling him), dove straight into all that Cannes had to offer; enjoying leisurely speedboat rides, extravagant parties, and dinning in the best restaurants, setting the Mediterranean city alight with rumours of a new ‘man of mystery’.

In the first few days of settling into his newfound ‘life of luxury’, Junior D’Azur was tailed by a camera crew, and highlights of their time with him were recently released to the public. To prove that an heir exists? To profile a man whom some say could become the next Jacques D’Azur? Or just to make the rest of us jealous? Either way, Stella Artois 4% has given us a glimpse into the glamorous world of the Cannes Film Festival, and shown a man unflinching in his ability to enjoy the finer things in life.

Wherever Jacques is (or isn’t), we bet he’s smiling and raising a toast to Junior D’Azur’s future adventures. We’ll keep you posted!

Check out highlights from Cannes after the jump!

_{That’s me between the Asian and the freak.}

I had the opportunity to attend the Cannes Film Festival over the past few days, and it was a whirlwind experience full of red carpets, yacht parties, and Jean Claude Van Dammes galore. My brains are still recovering from the extensive travel and time difference, but I feel it’s more authentic and enjoyable if I share my journey in my current semi-conscious condition.

When I arrived at the hotel, the Maison de Jacque D’Azur, I was greeted with an ice col Stella Artois, a welcomed welcome after spending the previous fifteen hours on a metal tube that has no business hovering so long in the sky.  The Maison used to be home to Picasso, who I’m sure is rolling over in his grave now that bloggers are slogging around it, covering the interior with a thick layer of Cheetos dust.
 

Friday night I attended the red carpet premiere of Oliver Stone’s Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps at the Grande Theatre Lumiere. Due to my sleep-deprived brains misfunctioning, I unfortunately missed the limo to the event with the rest of the group, but a nice French fellow named Fredrick whisked me away on a shuttle ride of death through the busy streets of Cannes to get me there on time. I saw my life flash before my eyes as the Volkswagon van swerved in and out of traffic, almost killing several Vespa drivers, an act of aggression I have no issue condoning. I arrived in one tuxedoed piece though, and walked the red carpet like a fancy boy with purpose and prestige. It’s amazing how well formal wear masks indignity.

Cannes Red Carpet – Watch more Funny Videos

All the stars came out for the premiere of Wall Street 2; Martin Scorsese, George Lucas, Oliver Stone and the entire cast. Eli Wallach didn’t make it, but I’m pretty sure that’s because he’s too old to fly and breathe at the same time.

The film is called Money Never Sleeps, but if money watched this movie it would conk out quicker than a transient with a bottle of Jim Beam and a handful of Ambien. Meetings with my financial advisor are more exciting. The dynamic between Gordon Gecko and Bud Fox in the first Wall Street is completely lost in the sequel. Everyone spends most of the movie spewing out stockbroker jargon that isn’t compelling unless you make your living spewing out stockbroker jargon. It’ll be a huge hit with Windsor-tie-wearing bigwigs, but inhabitants of Main Street won’t be interested in watching a fictional depiction of how they got screwed. 

After the premiere, I attended a couple of yacht parties with people whom I insist on calling my new friends. Yu-Ming runs Freshness Mag and Sneaker News, and Bryce runs The Luxury Spot. You should check out their sites because they’re my new friends and you’re my friends and I like it when all of my friends are friends. Don’t worry, I’m working on the woven bracelets for us all now. 

In order to board the yachts we had to take off our shoes, and to my surprise, no one was carried out of the parties with shards of glass stuck in their feet. The boats were flowin’ with champagne and bumpin’ that kind of music that fifty-year-old men and fifteen-year-old girls alike love grinding to. Also, two hot chicks in skintight gold getups performed a sexual flashlight dance to Daft Punk. Also, Jean Claude Van Damme showed up in Bentley.

Canne Yacht Party – Watch more Funny Videos

Cannes Sexual Flashlight Dance – Watch more Funny Videos

JCVD at Cannes – Watch more Funny Videos

On Saturday, after some much needed sleep after being up for 36 hours straight, I headed over to the Stella Artois Lounge at the Plage Des Palms. It was a fantastic spot with a gorgeous view of the harbor, more yachts that made me feel insignificant, delicious pork chops, and all the beer one could drink.

With my belly full of booze and pig flesh, I went back to the hotel where I tried to post something but the Internet connection wasn’t cooperating. I just wanted to let you know I tried, you guys.  

That night I attended the red carpet premiere of Woody Allen’s You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger. It was the same pomp and circumstance with the tuxes and the stars. I’m pretty sure all the photographers thought I was a famous Jew actor. Take your pick, I could be that guy. Oh great, thanks for picking David Schwimmer, dick. 

I enjoyed the film. It reminded me quite a bit of Vicki Christina Barcelona in the sense that it’s about married people cheating who shouldn’t be cheating just because they fight or f*ck too much or not enough. It also has a damn omniscient narrator again, who I do not approve of. Go back to sexing up sheet metal in a Mercedes-Benz commercial and quit explaining to me why Woody Allen characters are neurotic, unhappy schlubs. I can fill in the blanks on my own.

Regardless of the lazy use of V.O., the performances of Naomi Watts, Josh Brolin, Anthony Hopkins, Lucy Punch, and Gemma Jones kept me interested. I don’t want to spoil the end, so I’ll just say I was disappointed that right when the film started to pick up speed, Woody pulled the plug. Twenty minutes less in the beginning and more at the end would have balanced the story out nicely. As it is now, I walked away assuming the moral is that if you’re a crazy old person you’ve got it all figure out. Mozel tov.

I had never been to Cannes before this weekend, and in less than two days I soaked up my share of the sights, sounds, and drivers who have zero regard for the sanctity of pedestrian life. I’m grateful to Stella Artois for sending me on the trip. It allowed me to experience a festival I would probably otherwise have never experienced, and to share with you my ridiculous thoughts, videos, and pictures. Now if you’ll excuse me, my scrambled brain isn’t sure if I’m hungry or if I have to go number 2, so I’m going to head to the kitchen and hope it’s the former.

Au revoir, homies.

Kids today just can’t get enough of John Rambo. Check the Internet, and you’ll find there are literally millions, if not billions of Rambo related Facebook pages and Twitter accounts. And with Rambo mania (or as I like to call it, "Romania") at an all time high, it’s no surprise that a group of investors is trying to drum up money to make the fifth installment of the franchise. In order to raise awareness for their cause, said investors have been putting up Rambo V posters at various locations around Cannes. The only problem is that Sylvester Stallone says he’s through with the character.

Stallone says the people behind these posters are out there looking for funding, and told him that if he won’t do it, someone else will. He’s adamant that he won’t do it so that means Rambo V, if they find funding, will happen with someone new playing Rambo.

Screw Stallone. Those investors shouldn’t let something like the loss of an iconic lead actor keep them from giving the public what it so desperately wants. Get The Rock on the phone. We want more Rambo! (CinemaBlend)

So I’m on a plane right now flying to Cannes for the the tiny, little film festival they do annually, and I’m having trouble remembering who I slept with/killed to get this opportunity. Also, my 767 jet must be equipped with magic because I’m posting on the site from 1000s of fee up in the air. Eat your heart out, George Jetson. Your future looks like a silly b*tch now.

Come to think of it, no one in their right or wrong mind would request sexual favors from me in exchange for a trip to Cannes. That’s right Stella Artois so kindly sponsored this excursion for me. I plan on living it up on the French Riviera like Jacques D’azur, and attempting to hit on as many women as he has bedded with a simple come hither glance. Don’t post this on my girlfriend’s Facebook wall. She doesn’t read the site.

I’ll be bringing you all kinds of fun audio and/or visual presentations documenting my escapades at the film festival. I even had to rent a tuxedo. With a bowtie. Why do I have a strange feeling I’ll be working this trip off by serving tray passed mini quiches at an after party?

I’m not certain yet what screenings I’ll be attending or what galas I’ll be drunkenly stumbling into, but rest assured you will know when I know. I mainly just plan on donning my tux 24/7 and unsuccessfully trying to convince people I’m Daniel Craig. Not James Bond, mind you. Daniel Craig. Now to secure some piercing blue eyes…

My battery is running out because I lack discipline and don’t refresh it like Apple suggests you do at least once a month, so I’ll say au revoir for now. Keep on checking back for my updates and the use of French words that I pick up at high-stakes poker games and mustache-twisting pow-wows. Kisses, my babies!

Stay up to date on my escapades at the Cannes Film Festival.

A few weeks ago we reported to you that Jacques d’Azur, the King of Cannes, went missing. Mr. d’Azur is now presumed dead, or lost forever on an island inhabited entirely by beautiful women, and the search is on to find his heir. This lucky person will fill in for Jacques at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival — an exclusive VIP trip of a lifetime worth of $10,000. You’ll get the very same treatment that Jacques would have. That includes the premieres, the parties, the limos, the helicopter pads, and hobnobbing with A-List celebrities.

This swanky trip is sponsored be Stella Artois 4%, so head on over to their site for complete details and to enter. You could be on a jet to the French Riviera before you know it. It’s good to be the king. 

HURRY! CONTEST ENDS SUNDAY!

_{Cannes 1962. Jacques d’Azur gives some lucky lady the bedroom eyes.}

Legend of Cannes and a god among men Jacques d’Azur is missing and your help is desperately needed. The French film producer/director/actor/tennis player/chess master/backgammon champion/waterskiing pioneer and full time bon-vivant known for his work on the red carpets, swimming pools, and silk sheets of the French Riviera hasn’t been seen since last week. Needless to say, his extremely wealthy family is distraught.

_{Multi-tasking is Jacques Multi-Tasking d’Azur’s middle name.}

Jacques has been hobnobbing and elbow rubbing with international film stars and musicians since he was knee-high to a beret wearing tadpole. By the age of 15 he was fluent in eight languages and could play five instruments better than you can speak your singular native tongue and toot a kazoo.

_{Baby Jacques enjoys creamed frog’s legs.}

Jacques first made his leap into "the business" when he was lounging by the Carlton hotel’s pool and ended up in the background of a film being shot there. His charisma and Speedo were so extraordinary that his role as "swimming pool lounging extra" landed him a nomination for best supporting actor at the following year’s Cannes Film Festival. And the rest, as they say, c’est de l’histoire.

_{Raw, masculine power takes a poolside stroll.}

Jacques set sail on his kinkly named yacht ‘Bridgette et Anna’ from his Tahiti home, and the last reported radio contact from him was the message, "I have come across an undiscovered land. Amazingly all the inhabitants are beautiful women." No further contact was made with him and the extensive search found no sign of Jacques or his yacht. An island populated entirely by gorgeous women is no place for a man with such an insatiable appetite. If Jacques isn’t found soon every one of those could fall madly in love with him, and with no escape, the King of Cannes will be doomed.

_{Who will obstruct the film festival’s entrance if Jacques isn’t there?}

If you have seen Jacques d’Azur or know anything regarding his whereabouts, please contact Screen Junkies immediately. We’ve been told there’s a handsome reward for any information, and we’d like to collect it. Don’t worry, we’ll cut you in too. Pinky swear. Check out Jacques’s Facebook page HERE for more about the man, the myth, the legend.