Pellicu-Live is one of those festivals that sounds slightly odd until you are actually there. Cinema, chef shows and live music in the middle of Parc Palauda, Thuir? It should not really slot together as neatly as it does, but somehow, that is exactly the charm.

The 6th edition, held from 3rd to 5th September, was not a neat little festival with one clear lane. One moment there were well-known cinema and theatre personalities taking part in open-air masterclasses, the next there were chefs cooking live and sharing what they had made with the audience, then concerts, lights, costumes and a crowd that seemed very happy to go wherever the evening took them.

That is probably what makes Pellicu-Live feel different. It is not trying to be a serious cinema festival with a bit of music tacked on, or a food event with a singer at the end to keep people hanging around. The whole thing feels more mixed together than that. People arrive, wander, watch, eat, drink, chat, listen, dance, and somehow all the different parts of the programme become one evening rather than separate sections.

The cinema side gave the festival its class without making it feel stiff. Across the three days, Pellicu-Live welcomed names including Sylvie Testud, Stéphane De Groodt, Samuel Le Bihan, Philippe Torreton and Clovis Cornillac. Seeing actors and cinema personalities in a relaxed open-air setting made the masterclasses feel surprisingly accessible. Not red carpet and velvet ropes, more sitting under the trees in Thuir, listening to people who know the industry from the inside talk about their work.

Then came the chefs, and this was one of the parts that gave the festival real warmth. The “show des chefs” was not just a cooking demonstration happening at a distance. There was interaction with the audience, food being handed out, people trying what had just been made, and that lovely festival moment where strangers suddenly start talking because something good has appeared on a plate.

With Gilles Goujon, Thibault Gonzales, Christophe Michalak, Julie Lemal and others on the programme, there was serious talent involved, but it never felt show-offy. It felt generous. Skilled, yes, but also relaxed and good-humoured. The sort of thing that reminds you food is not just about being impressed, it is about being included.

Away from the chef show, the food and drink area added its own buzz. Terrassous were there with wine, raclette was bubbling away from one of the food vans, and there was that happy festival drift of people deciding whether to watch, eat, dance or get another glass. The answer, quite often, seemed to be all four.

Across the three nights, the music moved between different styles and moods. Thursday brought Christophe Maé, Will Barber and Massbeat. Friday moved through Paco & Nico, Marine, Kendji Girac and Pfel & Greem from C2C. It was big enough to feel like a real festival line-up, but varied enough to keep the atmosphere fresh.

And then came Saturday’s Too Much Party, which was where Pellicu-Live really let loose. The idea was fancy dress, nostalgia, party acts and absolutely no taking yourself too seriously. Done badly, that could be painful. Done well, as it was here, it becomes exactly the kind of ridiculous summer night people secretly want.

People had clearly come ready for it. There were groups in matching costumes, wigs, sequins, full outfits, half outfits, and the kind of looks that make you think someone either planned this for weeks or opened a cupboard at 5pm and decided, yes, this will do. The Teletubbies were in there somewhere, because of course they were. So were plenty of other costumes ranging from funny to questionable to oddly impressive.

What made it work was the range of people there. This was not a festival aimed at one age group while everyone else politely tolerated it. There were teenagers, parents, grandparents, groups of friends, couples, locals and visitors all mixed together. Some were there for the acts, some for the atmosphere, some probably because someone else had convinced them to come. By the end, it did not matter much. Everyone seemed to have found their place in it.

La Petite Culotte brought exactly the kind of daft, cheerful energy needed to get things moving. Lucenzo turned the park into a dance floor with “Danza Kuduro”, the kind of song that needs about four seconds before people stop pretending they are just watching. Helmut Fritz leaned fully into the absurdity of “Ça m’énerve”, Larusso gave the crowd a big singalong moment, and then Fatal Bazooka arrived with all the chaos you would expect from Fatal Bazooka.

The pace of the Too Much Party was one of the best things about it. It did not drag. It bounced from one act to the next with barely enough time to wonder what on earth was happening before the next thing was already happening. That unpredictability worked in its favour. You were never quite sure if the next few minutes would bring a nostalgic chorus, a costume you could not unsee, or an artist suddenly much closer to the crowd than expected.

That connection between stage and audience made a real difference. Performers came forward, moved towards the crowd, and at times broke down that usual distance between “them up there” and “us down here”. It gave the evening a real pulse. The audience gave energy, the artists threw it back, and the lights and sound carried the whole thing across the park.

The production deserves credit too. The lighting looked great, the sound was strong, and the organisation was genuinely impressive. With cinema, chef shows, food stalls, live music, crowds, costumes and late-night energy all happening across the same site, it would have been easy for things to feel messy in the wrong way. Instead, the festival felt busy, colourful and alive, but still well held together.

DJ Philippe Corti was a fitting close to Saturday night, keeping the party moving after a run of acts that had already pushed the crowd into full festival mode. By then, Parc Palauda had become a swirl of costumes, hands in the air, food smells, wine glasses, stage lights and people grinning at each other because the whole thing had become slightly ridiculous and completely enjoyable.

What Pellicu-Live got right this year was the balance. It had cinema and theatre names without becoming formal. It had chefs without becoming precious. It had music without narrowing itself to one crowd. It had food, wine, humour, colour and that hard-to-manufacture feeling that people were genuinely glad to be there.

It also understood something important: a festival does not have to choose between being cultured and being fun. It can be both. It can have Clovis Cornillac and a raclette van. It can have chef demonstrations and people dressed as Teletubbies. It can have slick organisation and still leave room for a bit of glorious nonsense.

Pellicu-Live 2026 was not just a programme of acts. It was an atmosphere. A busy, generous, slightly mad, very well-run few days in Thuir where cinema, food and music somehow all found the same rhythm.

Too much? Probably. But that was rather the point.

See you in 2027.