Story courtesy of Discobuc

An Insider's Guide to the Fest's Best and Brightest

BY TED CASABLANCA

Of the 1,000-plus films vying for attention at the 52nd Cannes Film Festival, most are simply looking for distribution deals. But a select few make the cut for the official competition, while others are shown out of competition or in the category of Un Certain Regard (the jury's pick for the noncompetition best). Here are eight films worth watching for:

Dogma

Directed by Kevin Smith. Starring Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Linda Fiorentino, Salma Hayek, Alanis Morissette, Jason Lee. (Out of competition)

The Story: An ultrahip version of the Resurrection, with a rough-hewn Jesus trying to save the world. His J. Crew-looking angels are on board as well, battling unsavory types. I hear Martha Stewart was considered for the Devil.

The Buzz: Picks up where the controversial Jesus Christ Superstar left off. Miramax--which also annoyed religious types worldwide with Priest--is at it again. The trouble is made all the more devlish by parental unit Disney. Expect a Pope-tart. (What doesn't burn him?)

Fertile Thoughts

Had some movie-star talks with some sparkly types right before I left the palm tree-infested Cannes. And by the festival's exhausting end, it was hard to tell who was the bigger nut, interviewer or interviewee. Probably the former.

After all, the wackiest thing I discovered, other than Ben Affleck's masturbation fantasies (you'll have to hang on for that one) was that Dogma's Kevin Smith just got hitched to his girlfriend, who's due to give birth any moment. The four-person ceremony was done by a Catholic monk on George Lucas' Skywalker ranch--without Lucas' knowledge.

Speaking of Catholicism, you've heard of the religious uproar regarding the Bible-twisting Dogma, haven't you? (You certainly have if you've been reading these tawdry pages.)

Well, what's far more controversial in the flick is Smith's blatant skewering of Miramax parent owner Michael Eisner and the entire Disney empire.

Smith tells me he received a fax from Eisner, who said how funny he found the lampooning, but K.S. doubts the note was genuine.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. After all, anybody who calls Jeffrey Katzenberg a "little midget" obviously already has a pretty sick sense of humor.

Like Ben Affleck.

There we are, a table of journalists on the terrace of the glistening Martinez Hotel. As B.A. comes over, one of my colleagues remarked that he thought he overheard Ben talking about "semen and hair." Right away, Benny-boy says, "Yeah, I thought about how funny it would be to spray everybody at that other table." What some people would pay for that. Like, duh, Ben doesn't hold back. So much so that poor Salma Hayek, who sits down in her breast-displaying blue sundress to join everybody, stands not a chance. Ben dominates the conversation, being the male-seed spreader he is.

"This movie was much more satisfying than Armageddon," says Ben, remarking how much he liked working for Smith. "I mean, how many times can you chase an asteroid?"

And the movie's renegade religious stance?

"It's a fantasy. It's simply a rumination on faith and dick jokes."

That'll calm the picketers fer sure.

Then B.A. starts (verbally) masturbating Salma, saying how she's the "new Elizabeth Taylor of Cannes."

I'll tell ya, with the cleavage that Latin spitfire's got, it's not a far-off comparison.

Salma did not disagree. (Nor did she return the compliment.)

Actually, they were as soon as Ben Affleck got into town. Indeed, our boy Ben--just moments prior to the Jones concert--was shimmying up Salma Hayek at the Miramax dinner at the Majestic. Kept pulling up his shirt to reveal his chiseled tummy while the engaged Salma just managed to tolerate the flirtatious jock.

Wasn't as hot, though, if you ask this flirty type.

Tom still takes the (beef)cake in my salacious book. The dude simply exudes sex appeal--the type of goosepimply star energy that's been sorely lacking this tepid festival period.

Did have some fun talks with the casts of An Ideal Husband and Dogma, but I'm saving those for my post-Cannes wrap-up after I Air France it back to Hollywood.

If they'll let me back in the States, that is.

It's just that I have such suspect things to declare. And you know what? I'm actually going to miss France's answer to Tinseltown, quelle surprise.