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A new batch of awards was announced, the last films in competition were screened and the jury was honored with a lunch offered by the Cannes mayor. But everyone wanted to talk about the 23rd amfAR gala held at the exclusive, secluded and luxurious Hotel du Cap, to raise funds for AIDS research.

Only a couple of days left before the main prizes are awarded, tents are taken down and the movie circus leaves town.   The future beyond the Palais all of a sudden becomes urgent.

And then suddenly all the films, all the directors and all the discussions were somehow put aside. Because of a dress.

The sun is out for good and Cannes shines in all its glory. The Marché is winding down; the most recent echoes from the cavernous subterraneans of the Palais (which houses the Market) has Croisette enfant terrible Lars Von Trier pitching a serial killer thriller, The House That Jack Built - and closing pre-sales deals with Latin America, Benelux, Poland and Taiwan.

The sun is shining on Cannes despite predictions of a soggy first week. While much work is being done, when the stars emerge to promote their movies sophisticatedly crafted bling catches the spotlights.

The pace has picked up - this is the home stretch towards the coveted Palme D'Or and all the other awards. Equally, if not more important, is nabbing a distributor for your film, to ensure that the work will live on beyond the confines of the Croisette.

The sun came out and smiled: Cannes was dominated by women, even if for a moment. As the 69th edition of the festival comes to a pivot point - the halfway mark, the critical first weekend when trends and favorites begin to pop up - one title was on everybody's lips: American Honey, a long (162 minutes), dazzling exploration of millenial angst on the roads of America, served straight up from the mind of director Andrea Arnold, a two-twice Jury Prize winner in Cannes.

Cannes begs the question: what to do with your hair when the ocean is a seashell throw away? To add to the challenge, opening day at Cannes produced showers mere hours before the opening gala. For the most part hair was worn in a ‘just up from the beach’ way.

By the time the weekend comes along, the transfiguration of Cannes is complete. Hardline cinephiles don't like to hear it, but by then the lovely town has indeed become a mini-Hollywood with even more expensive food; in other words, a place where someone dressed as an enormous, fluffy creature can walk around and nobody would bat an eyelash - but photographers will swarm to take his/her picture.

Cannes opened to rain filled skies and plenty of star power.