Sharon Stone Doms Cannes

For some reason, despite the fact that I wrote in scathing detail last year about its decision to honor alleged sex criminal Kevin Spacey, the Better World Fund invited me back to its event this year. This year’s honoree was, in rather great contrast, Sharon Stone, who received an award for Best Engagement (?).

At last year’s event, a woman sat on me because she didn’t realize I was sitting in a chair that she had also wanted to sit in. This time, a woman ate my dinner while I was in the bathroom. It’s clear that I do not register as a person to the attendees of the Better World Fund Gala; given the choice, however, I would prefer to be sat on. Much like last year, when I arrived — late from a screening — a woman was berating the audience, asking them to be quiet as they ignored her entirely. “Can you please close your eyes and be quiet?” she pleaded. 

Stone took the stage abruptly around 10 p.m. She looked a bit nervous before beginning. “Thank you very much for coming to this beautiful event that we began three years ago,” she said. 

“Never before has it become more important for us to do this, for us to protect women and children on a global scale,” Stone said. “Someone said something to me recently that I found to be very relevant, which is the world is made up of women. And their children. And that’s it.” The audience applauded, seemingly agreeing. 

She went on in this vein for a few minutes. “I think it’s very important for men to recognize that you are the child of a woman,” she continued. “The respect and dignity and care that you give to women is a reflection of the respect and dignity and care that you give to yourself. Because that is your origin story.” 

Then she seemed to veer off book. “As I stand here, I see you looking at me,” Stone said “I see you wanting me to tell you something that is gonna, in some way, make you feel resolved in a moment that lacks resolution. Am I right?” “Yes!” screamed a woman next to me. Stone nodded. “And yet what I know is that you know right here, if every one of you put your hand right here.” She gestured to her stomach. “And then what I want you to do is look at the person sitting beside you, whoever it is — you might know them and you might not — really look at them.” 

Some people obeyed. “At one point in their lives, they were a small, helpless, innocent child,” Stone continued. “And at some point in their life …somebody fucked with them.” All eyes turned toward her. “Somebody hurt them. Somebody disappointed them. Somebody made them feel small. And if you could turn to them now and you could tell them you were really sorry that that thing happened to them, it would really help them. It would help them to know that you cared.” 

She looked at the audience expectantly. She was not pleased. 

“I want you to turn to the person next to you, the person you don’t know. I want you to look in their face,” Stone said. “Put down your fucking phones. I mean it. Put those goddamn phones on the table.” She began addressing partygoers directly. “Put them down. Put that down. Put it down. Put it down.” 

We did her bidding. She stared at us, still unsatisfied. “Turn to the person next to you, and I want you to tell them — and I want you to mean it — that you’re sorry for the thing that hurt them, that makes them afraid, that makes them mean, that makes them afraid when they’re alone, that makes them angry.” We turned. “Put that fucking phone down,” she added. 

Stone began calling out specific people in the audience. “Turn to that man right there that’s looking at you right there. You turn to him, you turn around to that man right there and hug him, hug that man right there,” she said from the stage. “Stop eating. Turn to that guy right there, that guy. You, yes, you in the white, turn to him, tell him you care he’s carrying pain, that you love him.” 

She looked at another man. “You right there. You have pain. You hug that man right there, hug him. You turn to that lady behind you. You alone there, turn to the lady next to you, hug her. You right there, turn to the lady next to you, hug her.” Everyone began slowly turning to each other. Some hugged. One man whispered to me that he was afraid. I felt alive. 

It started raining. Stone was bolstered. “You see the rain coming down,” she said. “Clean energy coming down.” She paused and looked at us. “Thank you. Thank you for washing yourselves.” 

As she walked offstage, a man dropped a stack of plates, which shattered on the floor. A woman screamed like she’d been stabbed. Another woman took the stage and sang some opera, quite beautifully, as everyone ignored her.