“And here, sir, is your pastis.”

It’s 10.00 and I’m already on the high-proof aniseed apéritifs. It’s concerning not least because I could be turning into my dad but also because I’m in Farringdon, blinking into a day that’s hardly begun.

And the pastis is barely the half of it because rapidly expanding in front of me is a spread so far removed from the usual Sunday morning fare that my brain is struggling to make sense of it. There’s the unmistakable whiff of andouillette, pungently foreboding beside a plate upon which golden chicken thighs collapse into the buttery embrace of gravy and beans. A waiter brings out even more food: a bowl of tripe (of which I will say no more), a soft Saint-Marcellin cheese, torn chunks of baguette, something resembling fishy rillettes and a scattering of radishes, presumably for health reasons.

The food teeters on excess – not a limp poached egg in sight – but the warmth emanating from the long communal tables makes the whole thing feel oddly domestic, as though this herculean act of consumption might be taking place in someone’s kitchen. That faintly disorientating contrast, I soon learn, is the beauty of a mâchon.

“It’s a kind of cultural dining club really,” chef Henry Harris tells me, who is thankfully on hand as our guide. His presence is apt, as few have done more to bring serious French cooking into British restaurants than Harris: first at Racine and now, two decades later, here at Bouchon Racine, which recently published its debut cookbook, The Racine Effect.

“A mâchon is a very fraternal thing,” he says. “It’s a group of people with a common sense of purpose, meeting to eat in a particular place at a particular time.” Traditionally, that meant early- to mid-morning at a Lyonnais bouchon, where silk workers would gather after a long shift and eat a savoury feast of offal, cheese and bread, often with wine. As we talk, I find a comparison with the polished vagueness of brunch increasingly hard to resist.

“The thing is, with brunch you’re kind of missing the best of both,” says Harris. “Whereas with a mâchon, you’re having a proper savoury meal first thing and there’s a real purpose to that.”

That a niche, 19th-century Lyonnais dining ritual could pack out one of London’s top restaurants is enough to ask whether its arrival is a sign of something bigger. In France, that something is already taking shape: a glorious re-emulsification of old-world tradition and modern appetite, breaking up the sterile, fine-dining monotony that has had European cities in a chokehold for the best part of two decades.

Many point to the bouillon revival as the clearest example of this shift. Since 2017, France has seen the return of no-frills, canteen-style restaurants historically associated with the Parisian working class. Often housed in grand 19th-century dining rooms, bouillons have been embraced not just for serving traditional dishes at democratic prices but because they’ve restored a clarity of purpose to the bistro: rejecting the Michelin-chasing fuss that has made many cities’ top restaurants feel increasingly indistinguishable in favour of the French ideal of feeding people generously and convivially.

With reports suggesting that bouillons are proliferating at a rate of one a month, the question now is whether mâchon might stage a similar rescue act for the no-man’s land between breakfast and lunch. That, at least, is what La Confrérie des Francs-Mâchons, which curates a national network of vetted bouchons, is working towards, arguing for the wider adoption of mâchon as a righteous alternative to brunch.

“We are absolutely seeing a renewed interest,” says Bruno Bouteraud, maître restaurateur at Café des Fédérations, a Lyon institution that’s part of the Francs-Mâchons network. “At a time when restaurants can tend towards a certain uniformity, more and more people are looking for experiences full of identity. It’s not a transformation of the morning meal per se but rather a rediscovery of its fundamental values of simplicity, generosity and human connection.”

There are signs too that in the UK, after a period of small-plate hegemony, diners are looking to enjoy food that belongs to a genuine gastronomic tradition. Many of the most sought-after reservations are now in timber-panelled pubs that are capitalising on the enduring nostalgia of a pint and a pie, though the pastry is a far cry from the beloved Pukka. This leveraging of heritage is also seeping into menus, which increasingly fetishise British seasonality through asparagus banquets, game feasts and wild-garlic suppers.

“On Beaujolais Nouveau day, we opened at quarter to eight in the morning, serving red wine and bacon baguettes, and there was a queue of people waiting outside,” says Harris. “People came in saying, ‘I’m having a glass of beaujolais and a baguette before I go to work.’ Though some did forget to go to work.”

Whether we’ll all be eating offal and drinking wine at dawn remains to be seen. But the growing interest in mâchon on both sides of the Channel offers clues as to where our taste might be heading. Away from the sameness of gastronomic monoculture, of which the genericism of brunch could be the bleakest expression, and towards, as Bouteraud puts it, food that “embodies the generous ideals of sharing, sincerity and the pleasure of gathering.” If bouillons brought that instinct back to lunch and dinner, mâchon might prove that the morning meal is ready for a revolution of its own.

Helsinki is a city that rewards patience. It is not overrun with tourists like Rome or Paris but it is instead a place whose charms appear slowly – and only to those willing to follow its tempo. I have lived in Finland’s capital for more than two decades – so long that its rhythm feels like home. Working on Monocle’s Helsinki guide meant capturing that elusive quality. I started with a simple question: what does the city feel like now? 

For years, Helsinki sat in the stylish shadows of Nordic neighbours Stockholm and Copenhagen. Today the capital has a sense of confidence and its own cadence. Its hospitality scene has matured, with restaurants that reflect both local tradition and international influence. And its gallery and museum offerings are world-class, while a new generation of design and fashion brands has invigorated the retail scene. Creative minds from abroad are increasingly choosing to settle here, drawn by the city’s evolving energy and its unique quirks.

Yet beneath this newfound dynamism, Helsinki’s fundamentals remain. Quality of life is high, transport runs smoothly, everything is clean and organised, the sea is never far and you can reach forest trails in minutes. When I visit bigger metropolises, my shoulders tense. Here, the opposite happens. People often tell me when they come here that they forget to go sightseeing. I take that as a compliment. Helsinki is not a city that you “do” – it is a city where you simply “are”.

That sense of flow influenced my selection for this guide. I wasn’t interested in flashy openings or interiors designed for digital feeds. Instead, I sought places with provenance and a story. I favoured heritage cafés, neighbourhood bistros and independent shops where the owner still serves customers. These institutions offer a truer sense of the city’s soul.

I also wanted to highlight what makes Helsinki unique. Sauna culture is an obvious starting point but the local character runs deeper. It’s the sight of a commuter skiing through Central Park in February or a quiet street erupting into a block party on a balmy June evening. In summer, hammocks are strung along the bustling waterfront, while winter renders those spots silent and frozen. The dramatic shift between seasons not only alters the city’s light but also transforms its rhythm and people’s behaviour. This striking contrast is one of Helsinki’s biggest charms. Depending on when you visit, the capital offers a completely different experience.

Choosing neighbourhoods was as important as picking individual venues. Areas such as Kallio, Punavuori or Katajanokka each have a distinct identity. Locals are often fiercely loyal to their corner and I tried to reflect that by spreading the guide out. Part of Helsinki’s appeal is that it’s easy to move between pockets: a short tram ride or a cycle can take you from a sleek design district to a shoreline or an island that feels almost rural.

Ultimately, assembling this directory didn’t feel like an assignment. It felt like the act of writing about a close friend. Helsinki does not seek to dazzle at first encounter; it asks for patience and genuine curiosity. For those willing to invest both, it offers rewards that endure far beyond a simple sightseeing checklist.

Read next: The Monocle City Guide to Helsinki, featuring the best hotels, restaurants and retail spots

Commencement season at universities across the US is under way. But before this year’s graduating students hurl their mortar boards into the air, there is one final task that any self-respecting graduation ceremony will make its freshly garlanded graduates sit through – the commencement address. 
 
These speeches are the centrepiece of a university graduation – words of wisdom styled to inspire their fresh-faced audiences as they bid farewell to their classrooms and step into what was once quaintly referred to as the real world. But it is often who gives the address that captures more attention than what they say. 

Michelle Obama, Mark Zuckerberg, Oprah Winfrey and Dolly Parton are all among the inductees into this who’s who of graduation speakerships past. Some think that the starrier the speaker, the more cynical the motive – that universities are keen on hitching their bandwagons to one celebrity or the next for the free publicity that their honouree will bathe their quadrangles in come graduation day.   
 
But the truth is that if you’re somebody in America, you’ll be invited to give a commencement speech. Think of it as a US answer to the UK honours system – but instead of being anointed a knight or a dame, you get to be draped in robes, crowned with a tasselled academic’s cap and give a graduation address. 
 
So, what if you’re asked what to say? Platitudes, suitably saccharine, that all of life’s wonders lie ahead of you, and so on, are most welcome here. But you might want to capture the zeitgeist in some way – as Hillary Clinton did at her alma mater, Wellesley College, the spring following her presidential election defeat in November 2016. Here, she noted not only how long walks (and big glasses of chardonnay) had steered her through tough times of late but also offered a rallying cry – that her audience’s appetite to battle on should be heartier than ever in the sting of defeat. 
 
Even US presidents – past, sitting and future – have used commencement addresses to set out their pitches and principles to the country at large, far beyond their graduation day audiences. The current governor of Illinois, JB Pritzker, a likely contender for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination in 2028, memorably argued in 2023 that the spirit of collegiality embodied by his audience should spill out far beyond the confines of college life.
 
But it is Toni Morrison, the late US novelist and Nobel laureate, who arguably captured the mood best in 2004, when she unsentimentally reminded students that, “You are your own stories. [And] although you don’t have complete control over the narrative – no author does, I can tell you,” she quipped, “you [can] nevertheless create it.”
 
It’s in that spirit then that we doff – or toss – our caps in honour of this year’s commencement season, where the art of oratory itself would be wise for speakers to muse on. Because the language that we use to speak to each other, to communicate a big idea or to argue a case can feel far less considered than it once was, particularly in the US. It has become pretty easy to flatten language out of its richness, dimming the gleam of what we’re really trying to say. In a noisy world where cynics deploy their words as weapons, speaking clearly, thoughtfully and honestly has never felt more vital – whether you’re about to graduate this summer or not. 

Tomos Lewis is Monocle’s Toronto correspondent. 

Further reading? Monocle’s editor in chief, Andrew Tuck, explains how to prepare before speaking publicly and how to host great on-stage discussions.

Photography has long lived in the curved iron bones of Olympia. In 1957, the west London events venue hosted the biannual Photo Fair in which amateurs and professionals gathered eagerly for expert lectures and photography demonstrations under the Victorian barrel-vaulted roof. It was an early sign that London would become a major international hub for photography. Now Photo London, which runs from 14-17 May, will take place under the same historic ceiling and become its first artistic tenant since the exhibition hall underwent a five-year redevelopment by British firm Heatherwick Studio. 

A global meeting point for established and emerging collectors, artists and institutions, Photo London has built a reputation as the launchpad for works that find their way to major museum exhibitions. The fair marks its move from a 10-year stint at Somerset House with a rare public exhibition by Steven Meisel, the 2026 recipient of Photo London’s prestigious Master of Photography award.

Here, Monocle meets Sophie Parker, Photo London’s director, at the new venue to find out what Olympia’s expanded footprint will provide, as well as her highlights from this year’s programme of more than 100 galleries.

What can visitors expect from the fair’s 11th iteration?
It will have the bones of the photo fair that visitors know and love but boosted. I want it to feel like we have graduated. Whereas the fair in Somerset House was spread out across the interior galleries and the courtyard, at Olympia everything will be under one roof and should feel like a cohesive whole. After a wonderful decade at Somerset House, it felt like the right time to take things to the next level. I describe the vaulted roof of the National Hall as resembling Paris’s Grand Palais but on a more manageable scale.

Why did you choose Olympia as the next venue for Photo London?
The new redevelopment here has been conceived to host arts and culture fairs and Photo London is the first to do so. It’s nice to get in at the beginning and champion new ideas at existing venues. There’s also a lot of history here – Thomas Heatherwick has added his own architectural spin on this industrial building, which feels exactly like what we try to do at Photo London: mixing the contemporary with the historical. There’s a real sense of grandeur when you walk into Olympia.

What kind of programme can visitors expect this year?
The new venue has attracted both returning exhibitors and first-time participants, some of whom we’ve been trying to lure to the fair for years. I’m particularly excited about Galerie Julian Sander in Cologne and Miyako Yoshinaga in New York attending. We’ve been able to make use of every single square metre here and reconfigure the booths’ positions to include 10 unrepresented artists, giving them a platform alongside established commercial galleries. We’ll also have an art film screening room for the first time. Like us, galleries seem to feel re-energised by the move.

How are you engaging young collectors?
The 2026 Art Basel and UBS Art Market Report states that the number of transactions is on the up but their value is lower, which is perfect for collectors starting out. We have a programme called the Young Collectors Circle, which is dedicated to demystifying the art market so that younger collectors understand where the value comes from and realise that photography absolutely belongs in contemporary art collections. The art world can be intimidating, and Photo London is a good opportunity to engage with these galleries.

What to see at Photo London

Flowers Gallery
Established in London in 1970, contemporary art and mixed media gallery Flowers is a long-standing exhibitor at Photo London. This year, Flowers will spotlight a selection of photographs of Western Australia by Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky. Expect large-scale landscapes capturing the world’s evolving biodiversity and possible destruction through colourful tableaux which feel both captivating and haunting.

Large Glass
Returning to Photo London after a few years away, commercial art gallery Large Glass brings a solo presentation by Swiss-French architectural photographer Hélène Binet. Known for working with film, Binet’s black-and-white oeuvre uses detailed crops to capture the essence of the work of some of the world’s most respected architects, including Zaha Hadid, Daniel Libeskind and Peter Zumthor.

10 14 Gallery
To mark its inaugural participation, 10 14 Gallery will be exhibiting London-based artists of note from the first five years of its programming. This includes works by Vivek Vadoliya, who uses a warm lens to intimately document the nuances of his British-Gujarati identity.

Good morning, ohayogozaimasu, bonjour and bom dia. Wherever this column finds you today, I hope that you’re having a fresh and lively start to your Sunday. Over this way it’s a quick pit stop back home (23 hours) after 14 days in Hong Kong, Shanghai, Bangkok and Tokyo. Then it’s a peppy dash up to Copenhagen and across to Abu Dhabi before coming back to base on Friday. As there have been a lot of flights, terminals and early starts these past two weeks, aviation and the general state of it have been front of mind. And because it has been a while since we’ve had a Faster Lane quiz, I thought I would turn my observations into a series of questions that will hopefully challenge even Monocle’s most frequent flyers.

Of course, every quiz requires a prize, so if you’re a paying subscriber you get this rather fancy Trolley tote (valued at more than $400) and if you enjoy this newsletter for free and are yet to join the subs club then we will send along one of our new Cotton Tenugui designs from our summer 2026 collection. The cutoff for answers is 10.00 Zürich time on Monday. Ready? Here we go!

1.
Which airline has understood that the ground experience is integral to overall brand enjoyment and provided a lounge concept so good that you arrive early? A little clue: one of Monocle’s favourite designers is responsible for the award-winning approach.

2.
Name the European carrier with the best make-up and hair? And yes, I am talking about the girls and not the boys. Good heavens. Another clue: think Med.

3.
Staying with the aisles of an Airbus, which European airline wins for having the most masculine, capable crew and consistently good beards? And yes, I am talking about male crew.

4.
Can you name the carrier that has a newish in-flight safety video in which the passengers who have been cast for this film are so dreamy, medicated and generally checked out that they don’t stand a chance of evacuating an aircraft that has done a belly landing?

5.
Which supposedly premium airline has made the very bad decision to remove all magazines (including Monocle) from the front of its long-haul aircraft? What will the crew now read during those endless hours crisscrossing the Arctic?

6.
Can you name the Asian airline that has no sense of how to conduct service on a six-hour, north-south, overnight flight and thinks it best to just serve dinner, then go straight into breakfast and clatter the night away with the clanking of cutlery and crockery?

7.
Which carrier has had the good sense to build loyalty and create a sense of occasion by introducing a collectable series of destination-focused ceramics for its top customers?

8.
Name the G7 nation that is technologically advanced and a master of big infrastructure and innovative design solutions – but somehow continues to have the most arse-backward immigration and arrivals procedure. 

9.
Which airline has chosen to fill its home tarmac with decommissioned, sun-baked Boeings and Airbuses when these hulls should really be sitting mothballed in Jordan or Arizona and away from its newer fleet? Talk about a brand killer.

10.
What is the most efficient, perfectly designed, best little hub in the Gulf, and will be even better when the home carrier takes delivery of more long-haul aircraft?

P.S. Bonus question: Who used to fly 747s from London to their base at the far end of the Med and had Sunday roast beef trolley service, complete with dangerously long carving utensils? I’m talking very early 1990s here.

Send your answers to tb@monocle.com and if you’re enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’, click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.

Though it started life as a technical-gear supplier, Italy’s Oberalp Group is reaching new peaks – quite literally. Still a key sports-brand distributor, the Bolzano-based company now owns a stable of notable mountain and outdoor brands. These include Wild Country, Evolv and the brand responsible for about half of the group’s revenue, Salewa.

Founded in Munich in 1935, Salewa has been part of Oberalp since 1990. The label aims to keep producing what it calls “equipment intended to change the game”, which includes everything from crampons to jackets. The brand also plans to use its Dolomites home as a backdrop to promote its lifestyle initiatives, capitalising on the increased popularity of outdoor brands such as Patagonia and North Face. With a healthy history of mergers and acquisitions, and a move into diversifying revenue streams with climbing gyms, Oberalp Group’s CEO, Christoph Engl, tells Monocle how he’s moving the business forward.

You’re headquartered near the mountains. Are your employees your testers?
We have 300 people here in Bolzano, where everyone is a tester. Some do it in a professional way; others are simply using the gear for hiking. Our employees are our first customers.

What role do climbing gyms play in your portfolio mix?
Oberalp Group wants to be recognised as having the most relevant mountain brands in the world today. A few years ago, we [noticed] that we were not covering the whole field, so we acquired Evolv in Los Angeles and decided to invest heavily in climbing gyms as a franchise product, [which we now] call Salewa Cube. 

Fifteen years ago we built our first climbing gym. At the time it was a novelty to have a climbing gym at our HQ, which is open to the public. It was conceived as a training centre for those going climbing in the Dolomites but it developed into something different: we now have 100,000 visitors a year. Of those, only 15 per cent are going out climbing. For [the rest], this is the mountain. If somebody wants to invest in this business, we will help them. We are planning to open in Varese and, at the end of the year, in Como. In 2027 we want to open about 10 spaces in key Italian cities. 

Do you see these new gyms as a brand extension?
We had a lot of internal discussions about the brand architecture because Evolv is [our label] that has climbing shoes in its portfolio. On the other hand, the awareness of Salewa in Italy – and this climbing gym in Bolzano – is high, so we decided to maintain this name as we develop, and Salewa Cube has become a new brand.

What needs to happen before you look at international expansion? 
We have a lot of requests from other companies outside Italy. Right now we need to concentrate on the established products that we have here but the plan is to export this idea to other countries. When it comes to franchise, it needs to be beneficial for all parties. 

You talk about the franchise model but the trend seems to be moving in a direction of owning one’s own retail channels. Do you have a target for an ideal split?
We opened our first [Salewa] shop 24 years ago in Finale Ligure, an area that was popular with climbers. Since then we have opened more than 100 shops in Europe, covering Salewa, Dynafit and Lamunt – about 60 per cent are franchises and 40 per cent are managed by us. We’re not only looking at distribution through [physical] retail. We have an e-commerce presence and we must learn from the customer’s [online] experience [through] their comments and reviews. We also have Mountain Shop, our biggest expansion. It’s a multi-label space and within it, we can’t only be distributing our own brands but also our competitors to serve the needs of the customer depending on the branch’s location. So that might mean more fashion products in Cortina and more climbing gear in Chamonix. 

Are you looking to increase your acquisitions? 
Every month we have two or three brands on our table that could be acquired. We receive a lot of offers and we must be wise about selection and how the company should develop. Sometimes it could be a strategic opportunity or the fulfilment of a certain need. For instance, we were looking to acquire a women’s brand but we didn’t find one, so we founded Lamunt. 

Salewa recently celebrated 90 years. Do anniversaries matter?
They do. Not many brands reach this age; many disappear long before this milestone. For our 90th anniversary, we created an audio file called “Pure Mountain”, outlining our future plans. We recorded it on a small chip and will listen to it again in 10 years when we reach a century. The most important thing now is how we get to 100.

Spicy, sour, sweet, salty and bitter: Thai cuisine celebrates harmony and transforms meals into experiences that engage the senses. Better still, a trip to this sunny nation gives visitors the opportunity to try its regional specialities. When in the north, sample authentic khao soi (noodle soup); in the centre, seek out sticky jasmine rice and refined royal cuisine; and in the south, enjoy ample seafood and bold, fiery curries. You needn’t fear going hungry at any hour – the readily available street food is unrivalled.

We cover all this and more in our latest travel guide, Thailand: The Monocle Handbook, available to order now. Below, we select a few drinking-and-dining highlights from the book, from multicourse seafood feasts and reinterpretations of traditional fare to contemporary cafés and buzzy cocktail bars run by bright entrepreneurs.

1.
Charmkrung
Bangkok

This Thai tapas bar on Charoen Krung Road is the sister restaurant of Charmgang and Charmkok, both of which are nearby. “Our menu is an eclectic mix of takes on Thai drinking snacks, old-school recipes that don’t often make it onto menus and dishes that we have fun with, such as the Thai porchetta and pani puri with a crab salad,” says Kiki Sontiyart, co-founder of Charmkrung. As it closes at 23.00, it’s the perfect spot for late-night dining.
6th floor, 839 Charoen Krung Rd

2.
Blackitch Artisan Kitchen
Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai has one of the most exciting culinary scenes in the country. Its street food and professional kitchens blend modern creativity with many ethnic heritages, including Lan Na and hill-tribe traditions. Here, Phanuphol Bulsuwan, known as chef Black, serves a 10-course menu adapted every three months according to the season. “Our jungle curry kaeng paa uses jackfruit in three forms wrapped in a taco shell in a reinterpretation of a central-style dish,” says Bulsuwan. “The recipe uses traditional flavours and produce sourced nearby, interpreted through global techniques.”
blackitch.com 

3.
Kaen 
Khon Kaen

After a decade of working in the food industry together, Paisarn Cheewinsiriwat and Kanyarat “Jib” Thanomsaeng saw the opportunity to create their own place, putting emphasis on sourcing ingredients as close to the restaurant as possible. Their menu explores an array of Thai classics such as beef cooked with chestnuts and jackfruit seeds in a vibrant massaman sauce, and sea bass baked in parchment with a herb broth.
140/64 Soi Adulyaram 3 Nai Mueang

4.
Samut 
Phuket

Samut puts seafood at the heart of its multicourse tasting menu. Fresh catches are enhanced by local spices and prepared to southern taste. Banana shrimp and lobster can be found alongside tiger prawns and razor clams. Don’t miss the traditional Phuket dessert tu bo, which features root vegetables and coconut cream. 
samutphuket.com

5.
Easterly 
Chanthaburi

Motion-graphics designer Khanapong Pumarin established this local winner with the aim of channeling the community feel of a social club into a café that also moonlights as a bar. The concept and the smart interior – a timeless mix of bare brick, wood and exquisite lighting – has proved a success among young locals. There are even rooms for overnight stays. On the opposite side of the street is Cap, a café run by Pumarin’s sister.
182 Sukhaphiban Rd

6.
The Norm 
Bangkok

On big nights here, the decks will be spinning in two venues: The Main Hall and The Terrace, The Norm’s outdoor spritz bar. The Whispering Room – a speakeasy that serves Japanese whisky and plays jazz on vinyl – provides a more intimate atmosphere. Everything about The Norm, from the music to the dress code, has been designed to make it feel inviting. “We are in an expensive building but I don’t want this to feel too exclusive,” says founder Sitthan “Turk” Sa-Nguankun.
thenormbangkok.com 

7.
House of Suzy 
Koh Samui

UK-born New Zealander William Norbert-Munns relocated to Koh Samui in 2021, as the strain of running more than 20 business ventures in Cambodia encouraged him to seek out a slower pace of life. Unable to sit idle for long, the entrepreneur opened House of Suzy, a cocktail bar that caters for the creative residents of Lamai. It features deep burgundy tones and soft lighting in a sultry interior that nods to mid-century Shanghai. The menu includes handmade dim sum alongside reinvented classic cocktails.
houseofsuzylamai.com 

As the gates of the Venice Biennale open to the public today, the heavy doors of the Russian pavilion will close. The substantial security contingent pacing around the building’s perimeter was kept busy by protesters voicing their opposition to both Russia and Israel’s inclusion in this year’s festival.

On Wednesday, with hot pink balaclavas and even hotter fuchsia flares in tow, the art collective Pussy Riot’s chanting forced the Russian pavilion to temporarily close its doors. By the end of Vernissage – the preview week for press and VIPs – an impeccably dressed lone woman stood outside in a fedora, sunglasses and striking checked suit. But it wasn’t her style that kept a steady stream of smartphones and television-news cameras pointed in her direction. On her back was a sign that read: “NO PUTIN NO WAR”. The bright blue Birkin swinging idly from her arm was emblazoned with a crossed-out illustration of the Russian leader’s face. 

Elsewhere, Latvia’s pavilion (as it happens, an underrated gem of an exhibition in the Arsenale) launched a campaign titled “Death in Venice”. The Latvians are calling on visitors to print a specially designed graphic to show their opposition to Russia’s presence when heading to the Biennale. The campaign will run until November and signals that those ardently opposed to Russia’s pavilion don’t want their voices to fade as the press and VIPs vacate the city after Vernissage.  

On Friday, many visitors eagerly flocking to see this year’s most talked about pavilion were disappointed to find it closed all day. Austria’s exhibit is a performance featuring full nudity, bodily fluids and, just outside the pavilion doors, a topless woman who dangles from inside a giant bell. The lack of a naked female bell clapper was just one symptom of a 24-hour strike led by the Art Not Genocide Alliance group (Anga), which has shut down multiple national pavilions and included a rally by the Arsenale. The action was a response to the inclusion of Israel’s pavilion this year (albeit moved from its enviable spot in the Giardini to a less prestigious location elsewhere). While politics and art go hand in hand, this kind of demonstration is unprecedented in the Biennale’s recent history.   

The controversy has been coming to a boil for some time. Before Vernissage even began, a decision was made to replace the event’s Golden and Silver Lion awards with a Eurovision-style public vote in November. And then just days before the gates opened, the entire Biennale jury resigned over the pavilions. 

Understandably, the art itself has been excluded from much coverage of this week – compounded by a lack of prizes not creating the usual buzz over certain pavilions. The Biennale’s late curator, Koyo Kouoh, titled this year’s event “In Minor Keys”: her curatorial vision is all about subtlety, slowing down and tuning into quieter, more elusive signals. Instead, with the decision to include such contentious national pavilions, the Biennale administration has ensured that this Vernissage was dominated big statements and loud protests.

There was a particular pleasure in seeing the Cannes line-up and finding that the most anticipated conversations were not about Hollywood titles but instead about films in Spanish, Polish, Farsi, French and Flemish. The 2026 edition of the world’s most high-profile film festival feels, in the best possible sense, like a reflection of a world that is tired of buying into US exceptionalism. While there are American entries from filmmakers James Gray (Paper Tiger) and Ira Sachs (The Man I Love), Hollywood does not dominate the dialogue. The aftermath of the writers’ and actors’ strikes, a wave of controversial studio mergers, the prohibitive costs of shooting in Los Angeles, and an increasingly inhospitable climate  towards the arts in the US have collectively loosened Hollywood’s grip on cinema – and voices from elsewhere have filled the space.

The Croisette is a place where the world’s finest films find an audience. Leading the charge this year is Pedro Almodóvar, whose Amarga Navidad (Bitter Christmas) is generating a deafening buzz. This work of autofiction follows a struggling director who draws on the tragedy of one of his collaborators to write his next film. He creates Elsa, another filmmaker whose life begins to reflect his own.

Director Paweł Pawlikowski, who has previously made historical trauma into something intimate in Ida and Cold War, returns with Fatherland. A family returns to Germany after years of exile to reckon with cultural identity and the long aftermath of conflict. His casting of the always phenomenal Sandra Hüller (Toni Erdmann, Anatomy of a Fall, The Zone of Interest) suggests a project of considerable ambition. 

Asghar Farhadi brings Histoires Parallèles (Parallel Tales), a web of intersecting Parisian narratives in which family secrets and moral compromises gradually entangle strangers. With Isabelle Huppert at its centre, the film arrives dripping in prestige. Farhadi’s gift for constructing ethical labyrinths from which there is no clean exit has made him one of contemporary cinema’s essential voices, and his presence at the Croisette speaks to a notable resurgence of Iranian filmmaking on the international stage (last year’s Palme d’Or was won by Jafar Panahi), while brutality rages within the country’s borders. Further East, Japan’s auteur Hirokazu Kore-eda dives into our collective technological anxieties with Sheep in the Box, following the story of a couple that replaces their late son with a robot, in part inspired by the classic French children’s novel The Little Prince.

Belgian director Lukas Dhont, whose 2022 film Close announced him as one of Europe’s most significant young voices, follows up with Coward, a title that hints at a darker, more confrontational register than his previous melancholic work. Meanwhile, Léa Mysius, whose screenwriting has shaped some of French cinema’s most distinctive films, steps back into the director’s chair with Histoires de la nuit (The Birthday Party), following a family preparing for a 40th-birthday celebration that turns into a nightmare when darkness falls.

None of this is to say that Hollywood will be an industry written off in 2027. Instead, what this year’s edition of Cannes suggests is that audiences who are willing to read subtitles will find no shortage of enriching work.