There was something about this film that filled me with great excitement. I’m not sure what it was, perhaps the main marketing shot that shows someone in a face mask, reminiscent of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho or David Aames in Vanilla Sky. Or perhaps it is Antonio Banderas’ steely cold yet seductive gaze that would make him perfect for James Bond (if only he was English. Indeed a conversation that has been rolled out sporadically with friends over the last few years). Whatever it was, the film doesn’t disappoint.

Well it was bound to happen, after two years of trying to get Terrence Malick’s epic The Tree of Life into the Cannes Film Festival it was unlikely that the film would not receive the top recognition. So it’s official the film takes the Palme d’Or. I haven’t seen the film but James’ review wasn’t so keen, in fact he deeply hated it, so its clearly going to be a controversial but many people expected it to happen, some even called the win predictable. Of course the fiercely reclusive Malick did not turn up to receive the award, because he is, according to his producers, a bit shy. Which I think is a bit rude.

Drive is film based on a book by James Sallis. It follows a part time stunt driver, part time mechanic who in his spare time also moonlights as getaway man for hire. His name is simply Driver and he is played by Ryan Gosling. There is no back story for the mysterious man, other than what we hear from his friend and garage owner Shannon (Bryan Cranston), and all we really hear is that he turned up a number of years ago looking for a job.

Despite a lot of the hype surrounding this film, apart from the trailer I had read or seen very little relating to it. On the face of it I was expecting an Armageddon type film with perhaps a small amount of supernatural elements thrown in. The reality is an emotional dissection, where we are introduced to the mental state of Melancholia.

Walking into the Grand Théâtre Lumière at 08:30 in the morning, still pining for the softness of my pillow, one could have been forgiving that a black and white silent film was going to be a bit of a bore fest. But believe me when I say that any negative preconceptions which you may have about the sound of such a film should be thrown aggressively out of your nearest open window. What was in store from director Michel Hazanavicius this morning, was one of the real delights of the festival.

Before I start my review, I would like to state that I have never really been a massive fan of the Pirates franchise. Yes many people would say that I am simply being disagreeable, and wanting to be awkward. But this is unintentional, and I have always found the films drawn out, unfocused and at time times confusing affairs, which are over reliant of Johnny Depp.

In Restless we are introduced to Enoch Brae (Henry Hopper), an adolescent male who seems to be obsessed with death. Maybe of little surprise when we learn that both of his parents were killed in a car crash; an event in which he also died for a number of minutes, before spending weeks in a coma. So big is his obsession that his days are spent attending the funerals of strangers, and playing battleships with his companion Hiroshi – the ghost of a Japanese Kamikaze Pilot whom only Enoch can see and hear (Yes I do realise I have stolen that line from Quantum Leap).

It is on one of his trips to a local memorial service where Enoch bumps into Annabel (Mia Wasikowska). Annabel is not what she first seems, and after a certain amount of persistence on her part to become acquainted with Enoch, we learn that she has terminal brain cancer from which she only has an estimated 3 months to live.

At the second attempt, I was finally strolling in to the second screening of the Woody Allen film that had a few hours earlier, been the opening film on the Cannes Film Festival 2011. It was with a certain amount of trepidation that I glided past the stern looking ushers (suited crowd management, many of which wouldn’t look out of place working the doors of some inner city drinking establishment). My worry was not so much the imminent frisking, indeed those responsibilities seem to have been largely delegated to fresh faced, overly alluring women. For the most part my pondering was whether I was about to embark on a film which would end up in the good pile of Allen films, which in the last decade or so include films such as Match Point and You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, or in the bad which unfortunately has been pretty much everything else. What was coming was a pleasant surprise.