'You see more stars here than at Oscars': Top 5 moments from Red Sea Film Fest opening with Aishwarya Rai, Vin Diesel

Jeddah: The star-studded opening night at the Red Sea International Film Festival on December 4 unfurled with confident flair, led by British director Rowan Athale’s gritty boxing drama Giant, which set an emotionally charged tone for the evening.

This year’s theme, “For the Love of Cinema,” wasn’t just a slogan — it radiated through every speech, interaction, and tribute on stage. You could feel it in the room: filmmakers speaking from the heart, actors dropping their guard, and global icons like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Juliette Binoche, and Michael Caine, celebrating the craft that shaped their lives.

From moments of disarming vulnerability to unexpected flashes of humour and sisterhood, the night offered a compelling reminder of why this festival is fast becoming one of the most emotionally resonant stops on the global film circuit. Here are the five moments that truly captured that spirit.

Juliette Binoche doesn’t do performative emotion; she does the real thing. And on opening night, she offered a rare, unfiltered look into the inner life of an Oscar-winning artist. Her speech wasn’t about glamour or legacy — it was about the private battles that shape an actor long before the cameras roll. She began with a striking confession that instantly shifted the atmosphere in the room:

“All my actions, all my actions were inside. I didn’t do a lot of action movies, but a lot of inside, back and forth, battling inside.”

Then came another revelation, delivered gently but with the weight of a woman at a new crossroads:

“I can almost speak in the past because I’ve been studying to direct… it’s a kind of life achieving something.”

Here was Juliette Binoche, one of the world’s most cherished performers, speaking almost nostalgically about acting — not with detachment, but with gratitude for what the craft has given her. She reflected on how the profession shaped her emotionally and spiritually:

“It helped me be an actress to open my heart even more and elevate my spirit because I was in front of people that were very inspiring.”

Her belief in cinema’s power was the through line of her speech. She reminded the audience — gently, earnestly — why storytelling still matters:

“We need stories that elevates us in the world.”

And in a moment that felt like both a reflection and a benediction, she spoke about her youthful wish “to be working with lots of different people from all over the world.” Standing at an international festival, she acknowledged that dream coming full circle.

It was easily one of the most emotionally resonant speeches of the night — intimate, thoughtful, and delivered with the clarity of someone who has lived a life devoted, completely, to the love of cinema.

Vin Diesel has become something of an unofficial mascot for the Red Sea International Film Festival — turning up with the enthusiasm of a man who has found his cinematic tribe. This year, he arrived with the same high-octane energy he brings to his blockbuster sets, but his speech revealed a softer undercurrent: genuine affection for a festival that has welcomed him with open arms.

He didn’t waste time before expressing how deeply the atmosphere moved him. In a line that surprised even his most ardent fans, he admitted:

“You're making us all want to make independent movies.”

For someone synonymous with billion-dollar franchises, it was an unexpectedly vulnerable acknowledgment — a recognition of the creative charge he feels here, far from Hollywood’s machinery.

And of course, Vin couldn’t resist revisiting a line that has now become his personal Red Sea catchphrase — the kind of remark only he can deliver with a straight face and still make the room erupt:

“I said it last year, you see more people from Hollywood here than at the Oscars.”

But beyond the swagger and humour, the evening held a personal significance for him. When tasked with presenting an honour to British legend Michael Caine, Vin’s entire demeanour shifted. His voice softened, his words slowed, and the bravado gave way to reverence. Introducing a screen legend, he said simply and sincerely:

“Tonight is so special for me personally… I’ve been asked to recognize someone who you all know as one of the best actors that ever lived.”

In that moment, Vin Diesel wasn’t the global action star. He was a student of cinema, a man shaped by movies, humbled by the chance to celebrate an icon he clearly holds in deep esteem.

This blend of bravado, sincerity, and unfiltered affection for the festival made his appearance one of the night’s most memorable beats.

Michael Caine didn’t simply take the stage — he claimed it with the effortless authority of a man who has seen and survived every incarnation of the film industry. At 92, he rolled in on a wheel-chair pushed by three grand-children with the kind of unhurried confidence that comes from knowing he has nothing left to prove. And yet, he gave the night one of its most unexpectedly tender, hilarious and introspective speeches.

He opened with the kind of deadpan humour only he can deliver:

“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.”

The well-dressed crowd roared — because only Michael Caine could shrug off decades of career myth-making with a single, perfectly timed sentence.

He spoke openly about his working-class beginnings, describing himself with brutal, affectionate candour:

“I was born a Cockney in London, which is very poor working class.”and then, with a comedic sting that landed beautifully:“Cockney is English for working class morons. Which I am one. And I made it.”

It was vintage Caine — humour as camouflage, but never as dismissal. Behind every joke was a lifetime of resilience.

Then came the emotional shift. When his family — children, grandchildren, daughters, grandsons — joined him on stage, his tone softened. He gestured toward them with unmistakable pride and delivered one of the most quietly moving lines of the night:

“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.”

In an industry that often worships fame at the cost of everything else, Caine reminded the audience where true meaning sits. Not in awards. Not in premieres. But in the people who stand with you long after the cameras stop rolling.

And then — in true Michael Caine rhythm — he snapped the room out of sentimentality with an impeccably timed boast:

“Well, it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve won two Oscars.”

He followed it up with the kind of career reflection only a 92-year-old legend can deliver without sounding wistful or self-important. Speaking of longevity, he added:

“I kept going until I was 90, which is two years ago… I’m not going to do anything else. I’ve had all the luck you can get.”

It wasn’t resignation — it was gratitude, spoken plainly and without theatrics.

But what truly defined the moment was his sincerity about being honoured at Red Sea:

“I thought I’d never win anything here… and I won one. So I’m happy.”

Aishwarya Rai’s presence always carries cinematic gravitas, but this year, it was her warmth that stood out. Whether exchanging smiles with Kirsten Dunst or engaging warmly with fellow women in the industry, the night revealed an authentic camaraderie — a subtle but meaningful sisterhood.

In an industry not always known for gentle alliances, these quiet interactions felt almost radical. It reflected the festival’s spirit perfectly: women celebrating women, without fanfare or posturing.

If the festival’s theme is “For the Love of Cinema,” then its emotional subtext on opening night was unmistakably “for the love of community.” What lingered wasn’t just the applause but the sense of solidarity among the women present.

Juliette’s emotional honesty, Aishwarya’s gracious warmth, Kirsten Dunst’s understated generosity — together they created an atmosphere that felt collaborative rather than competitive. At a time when global cinema is striving for more inclusive narratives, seeing women uplift one another so naturally — across cultures and generations — became one of the night’s quiet triumphs.