When Elon Musk stepped out on to the pavement of La Croisette, the picturesque promenade in Cannes on the French Riviera, he was no doubt expecting to be whisked directly into his waiting Tesla.
Unfortunately for the tech tycoon, who had just emerged from a business lunch with advertising executives in a private gazebo on the beach, his driver had been held up in traffic.
Musk’s bad luck was my lucky break. By coincidence, I had turned up at the same venue. Before I knew it, I was standing face-to-face with the world’s richest man — and his toddler son. Would he grant me an interview? “Huh, sorry,” Musk smiled, with a shake of the head.
Fair enough. But I thought I would chance a few questions anyway. Top of mind: did he regret buying Twitter, now known as X, the social media company that has lost the support of several advertisers under his stewardship? “Huh, no,” he said with a chuckle. Would he sell it? “No!”
As a crowd began to form around us, and with his car nowhere in sight, Musk seemed to accept there would be no escape from his impromptu audience (at least not for three minutes).
He gave peremptory responses to questions about Tesla (no, its falling share price is not terminal) and declined to say who he’d vote for in the US presidential election. But he warmed up on UK politics. “I think Rishi’s done a pretty good job,” he said of prime minister Rishi Sunak, whom he had met in London last year during Britain’s artificial intelligence summit.
What about Sir Keir Starmer? “Who?!” responded Musk, before breaking into a cackle. “I don’t really know the UK politicians that much,” he said, before reiterating that he thinks Sunak is “quite smart”.
The elites of adland decamp to Cannes in June
RICHARD BORD/WIREIMAGE
On something like his best behaviour, Musk was in the south of France last week on behalf of X to win the affections of adland’s finest as they gathered for the annual Cannes Lions communications and advertising conference.
Last year, at a time when several companies had pulled ads from X because of concerns that their brands were appearing next to offensive material, he told the industry: “Go f*** yourself.” So Musk faced a tall order. Could the bogeyman of the advertising industry win over his critics?
Cannes is a coastal playground for the world’s super-rich. The azure waters of the nearby marinas are packed with yachts belonging to princes and billionaires.
Come June, the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity, organised by British events firm Ascential, turns the town into a global hub for the bigwigs of the ad industry. Alongside the official event, held in the Palais Des Festivals conference centre, tech and media executives set themselves up in yachts, hotels and gazebos along the beach, competing for the attention of would-be clients by throwing lavish parties and securing celebrity guests.
Ad industry workers — often New Yorkers or Londoners who have swapped their sweaty suits for linen shirts, shorts and summer dresses — are expected to keep a cool around the film, music and royal A-listers who grace their events. Last week’s roster included Jessica Alba, Princess Beatrice, Gwyneth Paltrow, Halle Berry, John Legend, Queen Latifah, Paris Hilton and Travis Kelce. By midweek, though, Cannes had become the Elon Musk Show.
On Wednesday morning, inside the Palais, queues snaked up three staircases as attendees competed to watch Musk appear in the Lumière theatre, which can seat more than 2,000 people. As spectators waited for Musk, the venue’s speakers blared out Eminem’s Without Me (“we need a little controversy”) and Jamiroquai’s Space Cowboy.
When Musk walked out, hands aloft to receive his audience, he was in a distinctly anti-Cannes outfit: dark blazer, black jeans and grey high-tops. His interrogator, Mark Read, the mild-mannered English chief executive of WPP, is a Cannes veteran and knew the score: tight polo shirt, chinos and brown loafers that left a large portion of his sockless feet exposed.
Read started by asking Musk about his “go f*** yourself” comment. “It wasn’t to advertisers as a whole,” said Musk, not quite apologetically. He went on to explain that he felt some advertisers were not supportive of “free speech”.
The “GFY” incident came after some adverts began appearing next to pro-Nazi and white nationalist tweets, resulting in some firms pulling their spending. Musk had previously said that X’s US advertising revenues had fallen 60 per cent because of pressure groups. He was also, at the time, in hot water after one of his own tweets appeared to endorse an antisemitic conspiracy theory.
Read asked if Musk ever regretted his tweets. “I mean, not every post I make is a banger,” Musk joked, before adding that it was “better to be real than to go through a filter”.
But what was his sales pitch to advertisers that have left X and might think about returning? It is, he said, the place “to reach the most influential people in the world”, adding: “If someone was trying to reach me with an ad, [X] would absolutely be the place for an ad.”
He did little to endear himself to his audience when asked how AI might change the advertising industry. Musk told Read he believed the technology would soon be “creative” and “original”. So, asked Read, there is no future for any of the people in this room? “I mean, I don’t want to be a downer,” said Musk, “but, um …”
When I asked Marc Boyan, the boss of marketing company Miroma, whether Musk’s performance had improved X’s standing among advertisers, he replied: “I don’t think you can say ‘go f*** yourself’ to brands, apologise months later and expect the ad industry to warm up.”
The actor Idris Elba with Marc Boyan, the boss and founder of Miroma Group. Boyan remains sceptical that Musk has been fully forgiven for his profanity
MIROMA
Still, Musk was able to use his celebrity — and his flippancy — to wow the Cannes crowd. Asked by an audience member what he does with his money, he joked: “I have a big money bin and I do swimming in it.”
He estimated that there would soon be 20 billion “humanoid robots” that will walk people’s dogs, take care of their kids, play the piano and cook dinner. “Everyone will want one, because why not?” added Musk, who is masterminding the development of a robot called Optimus with Tesla.
Later on La Croisette, as the crowd around Musk and me grew, one Cannes Lions delegate asked what could be done to improve female representation in tech. “To some degree, a lot of women actually have to want to do technology,” was his response. “Not that many seem to want to do technology.”
With his car finally approaching, I asked Musk once more if he would do a longer interview with me. “Well, I’ve probably done too many interviews,” he answered with a shrug. “I think it might just end up being repetitive, you know?” Instead, he suggested I could interview a “deep real” version of him that had been “trained on my public data”.
Shortly afterwards, his people received word that his car was ready. With a friendly smile and a cursory wave goodbye, Musk, with his son under his arm, was escorted across the street and into his waiting ride. It might not have been a deep real encounter, but it certainly was surreal.
Robert Johnson is a UK-based business writer specializing in finance and entrepreneurship. With an eye for market trends and a keen interest in the corporate world, he offers readers valuable insights into business developments.
