Phantasmagoric Cave-Diving! BDSM Biker Romance!

I joked after the Cannes Fatherland premiere that I'd pay to watch Sandra Hüller read my utility bills, which means Robert Petit's visually immersive jaw-dropper Underland — a phantasmagorical docu-essay on subterranean exploration, poetically narrated by Hüller — is a theatrical must-see. Jumping off from Robert Macfarlane's nonfiction bestseller, Petit shows a Werner Herzog-ian curiosity whether following an archeologist's search for Mayan history in ancient Yucatán sinkholes, an urban adventurer breaking into Vegas storm drains, or a particle physicist's study of dark matter in a lab two kilometers underground.

Nothing shouts Pride Month like a leather-daddy biker (Alexander Skarsgård) face-sitting on his introverted, submissive new squeeze (Harry Melling, in an ass-less wrestling singlet) to the anthemic thump of Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now". Lightening his adaptation of Adam Mars-Jones' novel "Box Hill", British writer-director Harry Lighton's outrageous and explicit debut Pillion is surprisingly sweet — an emotionally intelligent rom-com about navigating the boundaries of love, kink and other people's judgments.

Zoh Amba's fiery tenor-sax skronking brings to mind free-jazz legend Albert Ayler, but on their singer-songwriter debut LP "Eyes Full", the 26-year-old NYC multi-instrumentalist pays homage to their Tennessee Appalachian folk roots in achingly intense, guitar-driven rock. Recorded live with new bandmates Kevin Hyland and Dirty Three's Jim White, Amba's soulfully grungy record is anchored by their voice — idiosyncratically raw and affecting like Big Thief's Adrienne Lenker. (This summer, they're on tour with Courtney Barnett.)

Read a Room, Please! Cannes is the rare festival where all badge holders must be vetted to attend. Hierarchies and velvet ropes hold strong, but industry figures can be more approachable… if you're respectful of their time and prepared to walk away. In 2010, two fellow critics and I spotted filmmaker Atom Egoyan chillin' at the infamous dive Le Petit Majestic around 1am. He wasn't on his phone or in a conversation. "We should offer to buy him a cheap beer because he made Exotica," I suggested. We approached slowly, left space for a "no," and asked nothing of him. He laughed, accepted and kindly invited us to hang for a few sweet hereafters.