Two nights at Club by Albane
The combination of the last two nights at Albane’s still continues to disprove the 2016 trend, stating that the nights of the Festival are dead and that the death knell has indeed sounded for the midnight demons of the Croisette, sucked up by the S.O.S Fantômes de la Préfecture varroise. Although all the surrounding villas, from Cannet to Mougins, have been deserted by the big production companies and their whimsical film festivals, there is still – and it is a fact – a handful of refractory to the gloomy atmosphere that seems to have taken hold of the nocturnal pleasures of the Festival.
Following the example of the exotic Mano or the musical Villa Schweppes, certain institutions make resistance, led by their uncontested leader: the Club d’Albane. Temperament of fire among the most fiery, Albane Cléret is not ready to give up the weapons and has not, oh great god no, finished receiving the gratin of the profession on his rooftop with terrace, like a speakeasy tenancière in full prohibition. And more chic too.
The recipe for its success? An exclusive door, members dressed in their Sunday best, a musical programme with festive guarantees and new talents, and a hodgepodge of brands and guests, each more famous than the next, whose sole purpose is to celebrate their successes. Because yes, we always celebrate films there at Albane, with less fanfreluches, certainly, but a joy always not dissimulated. So to all the detractors of good food and other sorrowful spirits, always remember this adage: who rubs against it, stings against it.
