I don’t believe I’ve ever watched five films practically in a row in one single day. But after missing out on screenings the first two days here at Sundance I was determined to see as many as I possibly could. Gratefully NAICA co-editor Renee Gick was in for the longhaul.

Monday’s round:

We started off with Life Support an HBO production directed by Nelson George starring the inpressive Queen Latifah. It would be easy to dismiss the film as a typical HBO melo-drama. But the cast and the story make this film work. Written by the director, the story is inspired by his HIV-positive sister who works in the Brooklyn HIV outreach program. Her attempts to reconnect with her eldest daughter whom she signed over to her mother’s care when she was still trying to get off the drugs is the central plotline to the film. Like most films with characters looking to make good on past mistakes the film is about redemption, but it is also about acknowledging past mistakes without imposing restrictions on those who would forgive us in the present even if their brand of forgiveness feels more like punishment. It’s about listening to what the people in your life trully need. It’s an excellent film that is filled with wonderfully raw performances.

Our next film was Mike White’s Year of the Dog starring Molly Shannon, John C Reilly, and Peter Saarsgard. Molly Shannon plays Peggy, a faithful administrative assistant whose closest relationship is with her loving puppy Pencil. When he dies from eating poisonous garden mulch from her neigbor’s yard Peggy is left devastated and longing for something to fill the void. She finds it through a new-found passion for extreme animal rights activism introduced to her through the ambiguous Newt, a pet adoption advocate that she falls for after Pencil’s death. It’s a cute movie with lots of laughs and a few sad (pathetic) moments. Honestly, the film felt like other Mike White stories, though this is his directorial debut, the Good Girl and Chuck and Buck most notably, replete with odd but essentially good people populating his stunted suburban palette. I can easily see Jennifer Aniston in the role of Peggy, but Shannon does bring an edge as a woman broken down left psychologically raw. I liked it and would see it again but only on DVD.

Directly after that we saw Sterlin Harjo’s Four Sheets to the Wind. A casual film with quiet performances punctuated by death and personal dramas that lead to deeper commitments to the ones we love fiercely even if we don’t understand them completely. Of course, I liked it alot and would pay to see it again but would much rather watch it at home on DVD. Mostly cause I hate watching films with packed crowds who talk throughout the entire film as did the three French press chicks who sat behind me. For a moment I thought I was back in Queens.

Then we saw a film by Christopher Zalla called Padre Nuestro a tale of stolen identity, lost love, hard hearts, blah blah blah. I found it tedious. I hated all the characters. Every last one of them. I can’t tolerate stupidity as seen in the protagonist, if you can call him that, Pedro. He’s an innocent 17 year old from Southern Mexico on his way to Nueva York to meet his never-before-seen “rich” father. Pedro literally puts his few small possessions…like his identity, in the hands of Juan, a hustler from the streets of Mexico City who just happens to stumble into the same truck heading north to El Norte. Like I said I have a hard time with stupidity, especially when it is masked as naivete. Pedro is so stupid he deserves to have his identity stolen and stabbed to death on the streets of Brooklyn in the end. Welcome to Brooklyn, dumbass!

Whew-wee after that bad-mood inducer we saw Tuli by director Kanakan Balintagos. Shot on mini-DV in Balintagos’ tribal village in the Phillipines, the story is about a young girl who grows to love the best friend she has grown up with choosing to live with her than take the hand of the local heart-throb. Good for her. For some reason (Christianity) this film recieved an X rating in it’s native country for a tame lesbian love kiss. It’s actually really tame. To be honest the use of DV detracted from what I assume was sumptious light and verdent mangroves rich in color. Had it been shot on 35mm, which I know was not possible for this production, it would have packed a lot more emotional punch. Video simply did not do the landscape and warm light any justice. As a photographer, I could see that the images were beautifully constructed and an attempt was made to use natural light to convey the variety of emotions the characters went through, but again the video did not help the situation. However, the story was compelling even entertaining though as a Westerner I guess I didn’t think it was as risque as some would in other cultures. Definitely worth seeing again though.

Five films in one day-most of them good. I think an excellent start afterall.

everyone says they are the most important and i tend to agree. however, they are also mis-representative, especially if you have preconceptions already intact as most people do concerning events like the Sundance film festival.

i tried hard to prepare myself for the obvious well documented asshole behavior that goes on here, making sure to not contribute to it. thus far i think i have done o.k.

but can’t say the same for the many bleached blonde, stringy-haired, spray tanned douche bags with their knee high fur boots. nasty biz-natches. but hey we knew they would be here since they are the trophy whores of old industry execs. they are indeed ubiquitous. also ubiq are the proliferation of b-list pseudo-stars attending “events” to which their mere presence requires free merch, and by merch i mean really expensive shit that they probably have already but greedily accept nonetheless. all because they’re willing to pose for a few pictures to the delight of paparazzi and squealing troclodytes with their kodak digicams. it’s gross but hey i’d accept a free pair of Ray-bans and/or my favorite brand o jeans if they were willing to give them to me.
i admit my faults readily-jealousy is one of them.

along with the ubiq blondes and envy inspiring swag give-aways is the disdainful countenance of people who think they are much more important than they actually are. of course it is very self-important for me to point out their self-importantness. but it’s different coming from me.
i’ve encountered too many bitchy people who have dismissed us with their three second once-overs deeming us not worthy of their time. and people call me a bitch! there are too many here for me to even compete. on the other hand, i knew coming out here i would encounter those type of people so it shouldn’t piss me off. afterall i am also one of those people who believes themselves to be important. another one of my faults-pride.

none of this really qualifies as “first impressions” since I knew the score before i even boarded the plane. but to say that Sundance is a film festival and NOT a market (see headline from Park City paper on index page) is a bullshit statement. CAA lunches, private parties where free shit is given away to people who aren’t even involved in any of the films, groupies, and wanna-bes on the make make it so. lame.

then again the Sundance staff have been great if not a smidge over-worked and therefore disorganized. our first two days were filled with lots of aimless walking around because we couldn’t get into anything and i do mean anything-not a panel, nor film, though we did see some cool art and have had plenty of free coffee and water.

yay for sponsors.

but my real first impressions are that the festival is an oddly organized yet disorganized affair that is at once daunting and enlivening. and though our first two days were spent wandering about we more than made up for it Monday seeing five movies practically back to back. and it’s been one screening after another since.

because watching movies is really what a film festival is about-not swag and swagger.

(NAICA gave away their own swag courtesy of American Apparel and TeamScreenNYC)

After a muddled day of screenings, interviews and NAICA members starting their periods, we were headed out of the Yarrow when who should we run into but Crispin Glover. Actually this was not a new experience for us since we had seen Crispin 8,023 times prior at the very same venue. This time we thought we would try to greet him, mainly because I (renee) promised my boss I would get a picture with someone famous for my company’s weekly newsletter, the One Voice. (Quality publication by the way.)

“Crispin!” We shouted. Initially he didn’t turn around, and we were afraid that maybe we had mistaken some other unorthodoxically attractive man with a rolling briefcase and boyish haircut for him. His friend walking beside him turned around and said, “You want to talk to Crispin?” Er, yes, we did want to talk to Crispin.

He was eccentrically nice (not sure what that means exactly) and after introducing myself, I mentioned we’d like to briefly talk with him, a.k.a. get my picture taken with him for the One Voice. He said oh, you’ll want to talk to So-and-So, she’s my publicist and handles all that. He smiled warmly and walked away.

Not really wanting to admit that I only wanted my picture with him, I said “Yes…of course.” We then went over to meet So-and-So, the publicist. She was a small brunette with a trendy fleece vest and a fierce cough. Her mouth was full of granola bar the entire time she talked to us and she seemed a little frazzled.

Somehow we got to the subject of screener copies and mentioned that we hadn’t had the opportunity to see “It is Fine!” Crispin’s second incarnation in his collaborative film trilogy “It.”

So-and-So the Publicist stared at us blankly, coughed and said, “Crispin never gives out screening copies. Crispin likes to be interviewed by journalists who have seen his film.” She then said it might be possible for us to speak with him after a screening of the film tomorrow night.

I nodded intelligently, hoping she wouldn’t see my “I-just-wanted-my-picture-with-him-for-the-One-Voice” look.

“Yes, of course!” I said, quite cleverly. The only thing left to do was hand her our business card , which I did. She again stared blankly, this time at the indian on the back of the card. Then she looked up at me.

“I have to go this way now,” she said, and pointed towards the exit.

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P.S. We also met Crispin’s co-director and cinematographer, a lovely man by the name of David who winked at us after So-and-So, the frazzled publicist had excused herself. “We’ll talk to to anyone” he said.

Thanks David. So will we.