The city has smartened up its act, but it can't cut politics and real life from the festival

A huge sign spells out “Cannes” next to the castle tower above the city.

- Vanessa Thorpe

It is a nod to the famous Hollywood sign, and on inspection, after a climb in afternoon heat, its flimsy lettering is made out of some sort of spun material. Dreams, perhaps?

A walk along the narrow castle ramparts with the day-trippers means stepping quickly out of the way of a woman alarmed by the sudden sound of a tolling bell. It's just the chime of the Petit Train for tourists, warning its passengers that it will soon trundle back down.

One remaining visitor holds a selfie stick; quite quaint these days. He is having trouble finding a good shot because the best Instagrammable bits of Cannes are below us, around the Palais du Festival, where the yachts are moored for the film festival.

There are red carpets everywhere down there at this time of year. They cover stairways and shop entrances, and sightseers pose beside them as if they are portals to a better world.