Talking about Sundance is kind of like talking about the state of indie film in general. Now that most of the major studios boast an "independent" branch — how's Warner Independent Pictures for an oxymoronic title? — the very definition of indie film is due for a rehaul. And when the country's most prominent festival of independent cinema is as well known for its snow-bunny fashion and celebutante roster as for the films it breaks, it's fair to ask: Is Sundance worth the hype?

Though Rob Redford didn't actually found the festival, it first jumped into the public eye when he branded the former Utah/United States Film Festival with a name from one of his best-known pics, marrying it to his already-existing Sundance Institute. In the ensuing years it's blown up into one of the biggest film festivals in the world, with plenty of other brands jockeying for attention. This year alone, in addition to the 120 feature films on the festival's docket, there is Slamdance, Chefdance, even Dogdance, where the stars' pedigreed pooches receive special Sundance grooming.

Clubs like Marquee are temporarily setting up shop on Park City's Main Street, and serious cinephiles like Paris Hilton are hosting nights at special Tao/Yahoo! lounges. Swaggeteria centers like Village at the Lift will feature Uggs, James Jeans, Brics Luggage, Aquanautic Watches, Pony, Rocawear, Fredrick's of Hollywood, Alora Ambiance, Daniel Swarovski Crystal Eyewear, Harajuku Lovers, Le Mystere, and Timberland — to name a few.

Indie film critic Anthony Kaufman thinks it's all bullshit, and he ain't afraid to say so: "Crass commercialism is a way of American life, but nowhere is the situation more egregious than the run-up to the Sundance Film Festival," he intones ominously. But he'll still be there with bells on, he says — just sequestered for 16 hours a day in the screening rooms. One prominent magazine's film editor said, off the record, "It's a big frat party now. You ride on the Sundance bus, and it's all kids jabbering on their cells about parties they're trying to get into. For a serious film festival, go to Toronto!"

When I asked him if that meant he would be taking a rain check this year, he looked at me like I was smoking crack. (I'm not. Yet.)

And there's the rub. Yes, the industry types swoop around the entrants like buzz-ards. Yes, the whole process has gotten way too Slick Rick — one entry's editor told me she couldn't talk to me on record without her production company's permission. Yes, the attention doesn't necessarily translate into mainstream success — the 2005 winner Forty Shades of Blue has yet to even achieve national distribution despite its brilliance. Yes, people are there to snowboard. To hit Blender parties. To star gaze and even star fuck. But they're also there for their big shot. To trot out to the world the pet project they hatched in their parents' garage nine years ago. To make contacts with other members of the indie film community.

They're there to view as much good, new film as possible. Now that the studio system is mostly making remakes of remakes of crap movies and comic books, Sundance is the best hope we've got in that department, regardless of how arbitrary the category "indie" has become. It's a film immersion program like nothing else the world has ever seen.

Hype or no, we can't wait.