Breaking Baz @ Cannes: Being Tailed By David Zaslav’s Security At The Swanky Air Mail-Warner Bros. Party At Eden-Roc
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John le Carre’s George Smiley would have spotted the tail immediately. He would have noticed the man with an earpiece far to his left move in lockstep with the chap to his right.
The early rather odd conversation with the bloke in the white shirt, exposing chest hair, who identified himself as “head of security” would have put him on his guard and seen it for what it was: a warning.
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Let me back up a bit.
Snowy-haired Michel, the head doorman at Eden-Roc, greeted me when I arrived for the Air Mail-Warner Bros. Party hosted by Graydon Carter, founder and co-editor of newsletter Air Mail, and David Zaslav, the CEO of Warner Bros. Discovery.
Guests are finishing dinner, we’re here for the after-party.
The place sure looks swell. There’s a full length wall of mirrors stencilled with Air Mail and Warner Bros. logos. Ash-trays and match boxes are cannily branded. Lamps are emblazoned with images from classic Warner Bros movies.
There are searchlights lighting up the sky. Video of gangster classics and Batman films are beamed onto the luminescent pool. These are Carter touches. He’s a master host, knows how to pull off this classy stuff in his sleep.
Boy George makes an appearance. He’s performing gigs in the area in coming days. Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio walk and talk as they make their way through the long lobby to the double doors leading out onto the terrace. I video them.
Zaslav appears and I wonder over, introduce myself and compliment him on the swanky style. He asks if I’m having a good time.
A short while afterwards a bulky guy stops me. I can’t quite hear everything he’s saying but I make out the words “head of security” and I assume he’s on DiCaprio’s team. He wants to know who I am, so I show my invite thats tucked away in my Apple wallet.
People come and go. There’s Scarlet Johansson already changed out of the gown she wore on the red carpet for the premiere of Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City. She’s chatting to Jim Wilson, the Brit producer of Jonathan Glazer’s acclaimed film Zone of Interest. Lily-Rose Depp arrives with Troye Sivan, a co-star on The Idol.
I see Sting and Trudie Styler. The film producer Celine Rattray is there. Daphne Guinness rocks up sheathed in silver sequins and she’s somehow managing to walk wearing bejewelled platformed boots. I say hello to CAA’s Bryan Lourd, Robert DeNiro, and countless others.
The space crackles, there’s excitement, there’s buzz.
I spot Zaslav again and stroll over seeking a quote from him about, well, how marvellous it all is. You know. A nice question. Not the place for anything hardball.
Then the bulky, beefy guy approaches. Again. The penny drops. He’s Zaslav’s head of security, not Leo’s.
“Mr Zaslav has already told you that he doesn’t want to speak to you,” the head of security barks, getting right in my face.
I’m confused because Zaslav has said no such thing.
Oh, okay. He’s referring to a moment when I asked for a photo of Zaslav and he nodded his head and moved over to Carter which led me to think, to hope even, that the two of them would pose. But no. Zaslav walked around me and then went away.
The head of security explained that was Zaslav telling me that he didn’t want his photo taken.
Okay, that’s a body-language thing that hadn’t translated. I guess because I wasn’t in combat mode.
I go off and chat with other people who don’t run away.
Leslie Iwerks is with restaurateur and entrepreneur Ti Martin and they tell me about Iwerks documentary series 100 Years of Warner Bros, which starts on Max on Thursday. “I spent a year and a half researching. They gave me everything l nothing was held back,” Iwserks assured.
I spot Zaslav again and he seems friendly and relaxed and I see no harm in trying for that quote again. My phone’s tucked away in my man bag. I’m clearly not going to take a snap of him.
Head of security pounced on me. Where’d he come from?
I smile, put my hands up and say: Look, no pictures. I’m gong to ask a very polite question.
I’m persuaded not to even try. I don’t want to create a scene. I’m also keen not to be grabbed or escorted outta the party. I project calm, nice vibes to get head of security off my back.
I go walkabout and chat to other people.
About 20 minutes later I notice another gentleman who is obviously a security dude. On my right, there’s another one.
George Smiley would have had me fired from the Circus and Ian Fleming’s M would have disowned me for having failed to notice that I was being surveilled.
I’m a massive fan of crime and spy thrillers. I should have been more observant, obviously. At the back of my mind I had kinda sensed earlier that something was going down but I dismissed it. Paranoia brought on by sipping too much cranberry and orange juice.
My instinct was to leave, but I thought better of it and stayed a while longer. The music was fun and there was Zaslav on the dance floor for a three second dance move. He’s light on his feet. I can’t dance for toffee but I’m a fan of choreographers so I’m impressed.
I do not go near him. I don’t feel intimidated by head of security and his little army but I also do not want an incident. I’m wearing a nice tux, a Jermyn Street dress shirt and I do not want them ripped.
Always best that I stay very English and keep the Nigerian chieftain side of my personality — the side I used when I played rugby and basketball when I was a kid — well and truly at bay. They didn’t call me The Tank for nothing.
Still had a good time though.
The burgers, the French fries and the peach, vanilla and chocolate flavoured ice-creams were all trademark Graydon Carter from his days ruling Vanity Fair. The man understands that people want to be fed decent nibbles and to feel comforted and relaxed.
Even when they’re being tailed under the orders of David Zavlav’s head of security.
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