Waiting for an autograph for hours: "Ten years ago, I had to sleep in my car to keep an eye on my spot."

CannesThey appear in the early hours of the day, when the sun is already beating down but not yet blazing. In total, there are more than a hundred of them. Some come from far away, others from towns on the French Riviera, splendid in mid-May. Some are young film buffs, others are veteran women who have been selling films at the world's most important film festival for over a quarter of a century each year. But they all have at least two things in common: a passion for cinema and folding ladders.

"We're very organized," Martine Santoro, an institution within the "folding ladder clan," explains to ARA, the nickname given for years to this heterogeneous group of glamour enthusiasts who spend days on end on the red carpet to get a close look at their favorites.

The first thing to do, a day before the Cannes excitement begins, is to set up your work tools—ladders, stepladders, two- or three-step ladders, stools, and stools of all kinds—in front of the imposing Palau des Festivals and its Stone carpet, Pascal, Heidi Klum, and Carla Simón.

The task isn't easy. Negotiations are required with the City Council—"At first, they treated us like cattle," says Santoro—with the private security services—"They're the worst"—and with the other members of the clan. The objective is to position themselves at the exact spot where the black sedans unload the stars each night and "catch" them before they begin to ascend, amidst a frenzied crowd and the screams of photographers, the 24 carpeted steps to the cinema doors.

"To install the equipment, we first have to wait for the City Council to put up its barriers. That's why they also tell us the chained foundries"Because we use chains. When the material is tied down, we feel more relaxed because we no longer have to keep an eye on it. Ten years ago, I had to sleep in my car to keep an eye on my place, but now we have an agreement with the City Council," explains Santoro, who is already well past his prime when you arrive.

A nest of crickets

Cannes is full of contrasts, a mixed bag of things to do. The world's most prestigious festival is a must-attend event for the biggest names in arthouse cinema who dream of winning the Palme d'Or, and a paradise for cinephiles. But at the same time, it serves as a luxury showcase for films that will break box office records, like the latest installment of Mission: Impossible, which this year has come to present a Tom Cruise more athletic than ever.

Added to this is the largest buying and selling market on the planet, where a crowd of executives gathered on terraces, luxury hotel suites and villas with views of the Mediterranean put a price on those who, they hope, will be the blockbusters of the coming months.

And in the middle of the legendary Croisette, between the influencers and the onlookers, a crowd of desperate young film buffs who, wearing homemade tuxedos and eyes full of hope, stand in front of the Palau with a little sign that begs "An invitation, please!", hoping for a good Samaritan to open the gates of heaven for them.

Barbies and bikers

Martine Santoro feels right at home: "I fell in love with Cannes when I was little, watching television. And I've made my dream come true."

She's one of the veterans of the clan, a self-organized group in which the most important decision of all—who will be in the front row, in a very limited space, squeezed between cars in the middle of the Croisette—is made by consensus, but quietly.

"The way we organize ourselves isn't taboo, but we don't talk about it publicly," admits Santoro, who does acknowledge the existence of different groups, including her own, in which the passion for cinema is passed down between generations.

"When someone doesn't apply [for their assigned spot], I always give priority to the youngest, the ones who truly love actors and cinema. Just think, I met some of the people in my group when they were only 17 or 18! They're stubborn, passionate, just like me," she says with a big smile.

A testament to this passion is that for a few years now, she's even personalized her scale based on the guests. Last year, blonde dolls with very long hair appeared attached, a tribute to Greta Gerwig, director of Barbie and president of the jury. Another year, miniature motorcyclists so pleased George Miller, the director of the lineage Mad Max, who came closer to photograph them.

A pagan ceremony

It's Tuesday, May 13th, 6:30 p.m., and there's less than an hour until the ceremony that will officially open the 78th Cannes Film Festival begins.

All the members of the clan are ready, positioned at the top of their respective stairs and armed with cameras, phones, photos, and pens. The music starts to play, thespeaker warms up the atmosphere before the arrival of the starlets. mountain of the marches [the climb of the stairs] dates back to the origins of the festival, but it was from the 80s onwards that it became institutionalised, coinciding with the construction of the imposing Palau dels Festivals, the bunker, as everyone knows it, and which the City Council has been wanting to renovate for years.

What for years was a somewhat chaotic mix of actors, photographers and anonymous people entering a movie theater has become a pagan ceremony, a collective and highly codified act (with controversy included about the dress code of women) to celebrate the seventh art and its gods.

The red of the carpet (actually there are two: red rosso in the central part and red theater on the sides, exclusive to the festival) becomes the center of a universe of glitter and glamour for almost an hour, scrutinized on both sides by two rows of photographers in tuxedos and bow ties and followed by thousands of people on social networks.

At one end is the Croisette, where the limousines stop, the strategic point where members of the clan have been able to settle in after days of blood, sweat, and tears. At the other end, at the top of the stairs, where the doors that give access to the Grand Auditori Louis Lumière (2,300 seats) are, the all-powerful general delegate of Cannes, Thierry Frémaux, the man who whispers in the ears of the best filmmakers in the world, reigns smiling.

On this first day of the festival, the 60 meters of red carpet are walked by the president of the jury, Juliette Binoche, wearing an immaculate white Dior ensemble with a veil and hood, and Robert De Niro, in great shape at 81 years old, excited because he is about to receive an honorary Palme d'Or.

All of this seasoned with more or less danceable music, thespeaker A litany of names and titles, and once again the waltz of the stars, this time with an unbridled Quentin Tarantino and a radiantly smiling Eva Longoria. Not to mention the crowd of models who, like every year, attract the attention of photographers and journalists (more than 4,200 accredited last year) with their haute couture outfits.

An analog experience

In the midst of the hubbub, Martine Santoro seeks human contact with beings who sometimes don't seem like it. "I've sometimes asked for autographs just because the actor didn't know exactly what I wanted. But really, what I'm looking for is to live in the moment. Having Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, the older ones, in front of me is enough for me."

In this sense, autograph hunters are above all moment hunters. Beyond the material proof provided by a selfie or a signed photo, they all seek an analog experience, the adrenaline rush of living a fleeting moment they'll remember all their lives alongside idols they thought were unattainable.

For Santoro, the day ends with a success and a selfie with Robert De Niro that she proudly displays on her Instagram account.

But her big moment at Cannes is and will continue to be her meeting with Sharon Stone, "a stroke of luck": with the providential help of a journalist on the other side of the wire fence, the Hollywood diva agreed to approach and greet her. "I had tears in my eyes," she says, recalling one of the best moments of her life. It's no coincidence that her pseudonym on social media is Sharon Stone, it's me.