Diary from starry Red Sea Film Festival opening: Aishwarya Rai's grace, Vin Diesel's energy, Michael Caine's dry wit

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia: This is my third year at the Red Sea International Film Festival, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: no matter how many times you attend, the opening night still hits you with the same heady mix of glamour, chaos and genuine cinematic love.

This year’s theme, For the Love of Cinema, wasn’t just plastered on banners — you could feel it in the air, radiating off everyone from global auteurs to Hollywood heavyweights who had clearly decided to let their shoulders drop and just enjoy the ride.

Rowan Athale’s Giant set the tone with its gritty emotional punch, but the real magic, at least for me, unfolded in the moments between the speeches — backstage glances, hallway reunions, and that quiet shift in energy when stars realise they don’t have to perform here and their guard seems down.

One of my favourite things about this festival is watching the camaraderie between stars who would normally be orbiting separate universes. There’s a joyful informality here that you may not see at other film festivals globally.

Aishwarya Rai sharing warm smiles with Kirsten Dunst, Juliette Binoche clasping hands with young filmmakers, actresses from different cultures comparing notes like old friends — it’s a softer ecosystem, and I’m always struck by how quickly hierarchies melt away.

And then there’s Vin Diesel, who arrived with the kind of energy that made me wonder if he had personally downed a vat of espresso before stepping on stage. He brings this wild, infectious enthusiasm that somehow feels right at home here.

When he declared, “You're making us all want to make independent movies,” the crowd erupted — partly because it was unexpected, partly because he meant it. And when he doubled down with his annual declaration — “I said it last year, you see more people from Hollywood here than at the Oscars” — it felt less like bravado and more like a genuine love letter to a festival he clearly adores.

Juliette Binoche, meanwhile, delivered the kind of introspective speech that only she can. The room fell still as she tearfully (it was happy tears though) admitted, “All my actions, all my actions were inside… battling inside,” and spoke softly about studying to direct. It felt like witnessing an artist shedding an old skin and stepping into a new phase of her life.

There’s a quiet power to her presence — she never raises her voice, but the whole room listens.

And just when we thought we had reached peak emotion, Michael Caine rolled up in his wheel-chair pushed by his wonderfully adorable grandkids. He's surprisingly sprightly for a 92 year old and with two Oscars behind him, he was clearly sharper than anyone else in the auditorium.

His opening line — “My name is Michael Caine. It’s not my real name, but it’s a realistic name. It’s the one that made all the money” — had the room i splits!

But then he pivoted, as only he can, to something more tender and personal. Pointing to his family, he said, “I have loads of photographs, but none of any movies I’m in. It’s just a family, that’s all. Because that’s my life.”

And that’s the thing about this festival: amid the big speeches and bright lights, there’s a surprising amount of humanity.

People laugh more freely, hug longer, listen more sincerely. Stars who are usually encased in layers of management like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and machinery suddenly appear more accessible, more open, even a little vulnerable.

By the time I stepped out into the cool Jeddah night for the after-party, my heels aching and heart full, what stayed with me wasn’t the gowns or the guest list. It was the warmth. The sisterhood. The unexpected intimacy. The unfiltered laughter from stars who are usually careful, composed, and choreographed.

By the time the ceremony wrapped and we spilled out into the cool Jeddah night, I felt that familiar festival cocktail: exhilaration mixed with exhaustion.

People see the glamour, the gowns, the star-studded selfies — but for a journalist, it’s also about capturing every fleeting moment, filing clean copy under pressure, and trying to hold onto the magic while juggling deadlines and dying phone batteries.

So yes, while the stars floated off to their dinners, I went back to my room, kicked off my heels, ordered French fries (judge, all you want) and a Pepsi, and exhaled. Because for all the beauty and brilliance of the night, it is tiring. It is stressful. And yet — every year, I come back. Because nights like this remind me why I do it. Why we all do it.

For the love of cinema. And for the love of moments worth writing about.