When the camera flashes start at Cannes, limousines crawl along the Croisette and actors leave luxury hotels wearing sunglasses bigger than their film roles, the French Riviera seems for a few days like a parallel world. Everything shines. Everything sparkles. And that is now what attracts not only photographers.
During this year’s film festival reports of spectacular luxury watch thefts are multiplying. Victims are millionaires, producers, influencers and entrepreneurs — people who visibly display their wealth on their wrists. Rolex, Patek Philippe or Richard Mille are no longer just watch brands. They function as small portable fortunes. Easy to carry, extremely valuable and sought after on the black market like gold bars.
French authorities now openly speak of professionally organized criminal groups. These are not occasional thieves nor spontaneous robberies. Rather teams with a clear division of labor, who come to Cannes specifically during the festival. Restaurants, beach clubs and hotel lobbies are watched. Often a quick glance at the wrist is enough.
Then everything happens quickly.
A shove in front of the hotel entrance. A brief diversion. Sometimes even a direct touch while passing. In seconds a watch worth an apartment disappears. To outsiders it seems almost surreal — like a scene from a 1970s French gangster film. Just without the soundtrack.
Particularly evident: criminals are acting more and more openly. Whereas these thefts once took place rather discreetly, today they sometimes happen right in the middle of the Croisette, in front of luxury hotels and under the eyes of numerous passersby. Cannes thus once again proves to be a place of extremes. Here luxury yachts, champagne receptions and diamond jewelry. There, organized crime specialized precisely in this world.
The political debate was not long in coming.
Conservative commentators see the incidents as a symbol of ever-weaker state control. Left-wing voices instead argue that Cannes stages an almost provocative display of wealth every year — thus inevitably attracting criminals. Indeed, the festival sometimes seems like a showcase of luxury global capitalism. Those who want to be noticed often wear on their wrist what others earn in a whole year.
And this is precisely where the psychological peculiarity of these cases lies.
Luxury watches no longer serve only to tell the time. They represent status, influence and membership in an exclusive world. On social networks influencers present their models like trophies. Entrepreneurs talk about limited editions with the same passion that others talk about vintage cars or art collections. The problem: visible wealth also creates visible targets.
Many famous guests now consciously avoid flashy outfits or travel with additional security staff. Some hotels have strengthened security measures, others offer discreet transport or private entrances. However, a constant sense of nervousness remains. Behind the sunglasses and the flashes an atmosphere grows that resembles more a high-security zone than a film festival.
Cannes thus remains a fascinating contradiction. A stage for cinema, glamour and the staging of power — but also a place where the shadows of excessive visibility are clearly revealed. The more intensely luxury shines, the more clearly those who want to take advantage of it emerge.
It’s a bit crazy, indeed.
Perhaps this tells us more about modern France than any political debate. Because between red carpets and police sirens in Cannes there are often only a few meters.
Andreas M. Brucker