When camera flashes go off in Cannes and limousines slowly drive along the Croisette, and actors come out of luxury hotels wearing sunglasses larger than their roles in the film, the Côte d’Azur feels like a parallel world for a few days. Everything shines. Everything sparkles. And that very fact now attracts not only photographers but others as well.
This year, there have been successive reports of spectacular thefts of luxury watches around the festival. The victims are millionaires, producers, influencers, entrepreneurs — people who wear their wealth directly on their wrists. Rolex, Patek Philippe, Richard Mille are not just watch brands. They function like gold bars, highly valuable and easily transportable small mobile assets on the black market.
The French authorities are now publicly referring to professionally organized crime groups. Not spontaneous criminals or opportunistic robbers, but teams with clearly defined roles who intentionally visit Cannes during the festival period. They observe restaurants, beach clubs, hotel lobbies. Just a brief glance at the wrist is enough.
Then everything happens in the blink of an eye.
A brush past the hotel entrance, a brief distraction tactic, sometimes reaching out directly while passing by. Within seconds, a watch worth an apartment disappears. To outsiders, this seems almost surreal. Like a scene from a 1970s French gangster movie, but without the film soundtrack.
What stands out especially is that the criminals are acting increasingly boldly. In the past, such thefts were relatively discreet, but now they sometimes happen right in the middle of the Croisette, directly in front of luxury hotels, in full view of numerous passersby. Cannes once again reveals itself as a place of extremes. Here there are luxury yachts, champagne receptions, diamond jewelry, and just over there, organized crime specialized in exactly this world.
The political debate did not take long to follow.
Conservative commentators see these incidents as a symbol of the weakening control of the state. On the other hand, the left argues that Cannes provocatively stages displays of wealth almost every year and that this inevitably attracts criminals. In fact, the film festival sometimes seems like a showcase for global luxury capitalism. Those seeking attention often flaunt something on their arm that matches what others earn in a year.
This is precisely the psychological peculiarity of these cases.
Luxury watches are no longer just simple timekeeping tools. They are symbols of status, influence, and belonging to an exclusive world. On social media, influencers showcase their models like trophies. Entrepreneurs passionately talk about limited editions, similar to how others discuss old-timers or art collections. The problem is that conspicuous wealth quickly creates conspicuous targets.
Many famous guests now deliberately avoid wearing noticeable watches or travel with additional security guards. Some hotels have strengthened security measures, while others offer discreet transportation or private entrances. Nevertheless, a persistent tension remains. Between sunglasses and flashes, the atmosphere evokes a high-security zone rather than a film festival.
Cannes still holds a fascinating contradiction. It is a stage for film, glamour, and displays of power, while also being a place where the dark side of extreme exposure is most evident. The brighter the luxury shines, the more prominent those looking to profit from it become.
There is a somewhat crazy aspect to it.
Perhaps this tells us more about modern France than any political debate, because the red carpet and police sirens are often just a few meters apart in Cannes.
Andreas M. Brücker