I'm overlooking a Mediterranean glittering with yachts. It's not just the sun, nor our billionaire hostess's jewels, giving me this slightly trippy feeling. There's something about the Cannes film festival that mainlines head-swimming glamour, even into a crowd as blasé as this melange of international rich and minor celebrities. For everyone here is dreaming — even the chequebook-waving moneymen — and anything seems possible on the star-strewn terrace of the Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc, in Cap d'Antibes.