Iran’s current regime is going through what psychologists term "acute anticipatory coping." Perceived threats coming from the artistic community get neutralized by an internal affairs machine on steroids, glassy-eyed henchmen and the true-to-life sound of “clang” as cell doors slam shut. The government is turning on its own, and artists, filmmakers and actors are feeling the pinch. Jafar Panahi, who was to sit on the jury at Cannes next month, is in a Tehran jail. And though he's among those the regime has so far repressed the most, he's not the only one feeling the pressure.

P.S.1’s Warm Up is now venerable -- this year is its 12th anniversary. It’s hard to believe it’s been more a decade since those first parties in the former public school’s courtyard; it was more intimate then. The fact that the first installment of Warm Up #12 fell on the 4th of July is not entirely coincidental (although it is, of course). As part of its lofty goal of art and music, the Warm Up Sessions also offer BBQing and beer on the yard. Sensory overload can make you work up an appetite, you know? But, since many clubgoers had to dutifully report to family and extended family somewhere out in urbania for the national holiday, the crowd shimmying to the beats was tres cosmopolitan (even more than usual, it seems). Parisian hipsters and their coterie of friends mingled with Scandinavian ravers and international clubbing tourists. Indeed, mon cher, nowhere is New York’s European bent clearer than in the courtyard at P.S.1 on a Saturday.

On Saturday, I had a lesson in culture and geography. Do you know all the islands which surround Manhattan? There’s Ellis Island, Staten Island, the mysterious Roosevelt Island (ever met anyone who lives there?); there’s also Wards Island (doesn’t sound tourist-friendly), and to the south of the city, Governor’s Island, just an Olympic stone’s throw from Battery Park. You get great views of the city, and every year, Governor’s turns into a little bit of Bridgehampton. Britain’s Prince Harry was on the island on Saturday to play polo against Nacho Figueras for charity’s sake. Since the officially released guest list only includes some of the attendees, as guests started arriving, rumors were already swirling (don’t they always?) about who would be coming. Is Madonna here? She’s not on the guest list. Someone spotted her with her son, I think.

Each year during the Cannes Film Festival, the American Foundation for AIDS Research (amFAR), holds their Cinema Against AIDS gala: the black-tie rendezvous for about eight hundred guests, among which are many of the stars from the films currently being screened in Cannes theatres, film producers, and anyone directly or indirectly involved in the fundraising effort. Chaired principally by Kenneth Cole, Harvey Weinstein, and Sharon Stone, Cinema Against AIDS helps raise funds for medical research. Both Weinstein and Stone have been tireless supporters of amFAR’s efforts to get the message out about AIDS awareness. Their participation in the gala helps to ensure as many A-listers as possible will show up, thereby increasing amFAR’s visibility. As Kenneth Cole explained to me when the gala was getting underway, "Anyone who is anyone will be here tonight, and Annie Lennox is going to sing. The night is going to be magical." Aware of the current economic climate, Cole told me that "last year was a different time and place, and it’s very hard out there, but it’s no less important in here."

The Cannes Film Festival crowd runs the gamut of ethnicities and classes. At least until accreditations are handed down, you could say we are all cinephiles basking in cinema’s glory. Once the badges are given, with their undemocratically assigned colors of importance, classes are formed and cliques come into sharper focus. Unspoken imperatives rule the day. You’re not equal to me; you over there, yes, the chap in the seersucker suit -- we’re a match, let’s do lunch at La Potiniere.