The Cannes sun was beginning to fall into its signature golden hour when George Miller stepped onto the red carpet of the Palais des Festivals—calm, smiling, and luminous with the confidence of a man debuting one of the most personal films of his career. Three Thousand Years of Longing, his long-awaited romantic fantasy drama, had just premiered to a full house, and the energy around him felt almost mythic.

Moments later, in a quiet lounge reserved for festival VIPs, collectors, and industry insiders, Miller settled into an armchair for our conversation. Warm, articulate, and endlessly curious, he spoke about cinema with the enthusiasm of a student and the wisdom of a master.

On Returning to Cannes

Q: Cannes has been a significant home for your work. How did it feel bringing this deeply intimate film here?

George Miller:
Cannes is where cinema breathes. Bringing this film here felt natural—almost inevitable. It’s a tale about storytelling, longing, and the human impulse to dream. Cannes is a place where those ideas resonate immediately. The audience here is open, alert, and fearless in their reactions. You can feel it in the room.

As he spoke, photographers outside continued to call his name, but Miller appeared completely present—still immersed in the world of the film.

On the Making of Three Thousand Years of Longing

Q: This is a very different film from Mad Max. What drew you to this story?

Miller:
It began with A.S. Byatt’s short story—something about the alchemy between the Djinn and Alithea. I was fascinated by their dialogues, the negotiation between logic and desire, fantasy and restraint. It’s a film about connection in an age of isolation. I think we all felt that very deeply while making it.

The director described the film’s two leads:

• Tilda Swinton as Alithea, the academic whose solitude is shaken by magic

• Idris Elba as the Djinn, ancient, powerful, and vulnerable at once

Miller:

Tilda and Idris brought an emotional precision to the film. The special effects, the myths, the grandiosity—none of that matters if the human core isn’t real. They made it real.

On the Grand Visual Language

Q: The film’s visuals are lavish and dreamlike. What inspired the aesthetic?

Miller:
I wanted the film to feel like a tapestry woven across centuries. Mesopotamia, Ottoman courts, Victorian rooms—all of it had to coexist visually. We used color as emotion—reds for longing, blues for memory. Fantasy must be grounded in something familiar, otherwise the audience doesn’t follow you.

On the Red Carpet Magic

Outside, the Cannes ambiance was in full swing—crystal gowns brushing polished marble, photographers shouting in a dozen languages, luxury perfumes lifting in the humid Riviera air.

Q: How do you feel about the Cannes red carpet tradition?

Miller:
It’s beautiful theater. Cinema is a communal experience, and the red carpet is part of that ritual. It honors the work. It celebrates the effort of hundreds of people who created something together.

On What He Hopes the Audience Takes Away

Q: What emotion do you hope lingers after the film ends?

Miller:
That desire—whatever form it takes—is essential to being human. And that storytelling is one of the oldest ways we understand ourselves. If people leave the cinema and feel both challenged and comforted, then the film has done its job.

How to Meet George Miller at Cannes (VIP Insight)

Miller is famously gracious with audiences, but catching a conversation like this requires:

• Access to the Marché du Film industry lounges

• Invitations to official screenings and post-screening receptions

• Presence at select red-carpet events where directors speak briefly with guests

• Connections to studio hospitality suites and private festival interviews

For collectors, producers, and high-profile VIP guests, Miller often appears at:Production panels, Director roundtables and Private cocktail gatherings hosted by studios and streaming platforms

A few guests were lucky enough to shake his hand that night—just before the applause for the premiere echoed down the Croisette.

A Cannes Night Filled With Stories

As our interview ended, Miller stood up with that familiar gentle presence, smiled, and said:

“The Djinn tells stories to survive. I think filmmakers do the same.”

And then he slipped back into the glowing whirl of the festival, where stories—like magic—never truly stop.