Taking a break

Flavorpill skipped out on Sundance this year, holing up instead in our SoHo, NYC headquarters crafting an entirely new film publication. Set to launch in the coming months, this will be your source for all things cinematic — an indispensable guide to the friends, gems, and future trends of the silver screen. Sign up now, and look for us back out on the Park City slopes in 2008. In the meantime, get your small-screen video fix with Flavorpill's newly launched video page — filled with exclusive content created by the M SS NG P ECES camera crews.

Sure, It Was the Movies, Stupid. But Not Just the Movies

So many movies, so little wireless time to write about them, at least up there in the mountains. All in all, I screened (at least part of) 28 films at Sundance 2006. The irony, of course, is that those 28 were but a drop in the pan of how many films I wish I'd caught; the worst was missing the only press screening of Spain's Princesas, which I'd hotly anticipated. That's the name of the festival game, though. You plan your film schedule carefully, fiddle with it based on word-of-mouth during the week, and, at the end, still wonder queasily about what could have been. I thought that the remorse might've been my own Rosmania, but pretty much everyone I talked to copped to the same malingering regrets. Still, many more films than 28 and I might now be languishing with a case of cinennui to rival a Tulsa projectionist's.

By far, the documentary categories proved strongest, whereas the American dramatics largely buckled under the weight of their own, ill-advised quirkiness and dime-store psychoanalytical revelations. In general, a few films rocked my world one way or another; a surprisingly many could reincarnate as excellent legal soporofics if they don't find other distribution; and pretty much everything was too long. Why the long films? Extending a feature past its ideal length is like adding extra spices to a stew: if it's bad, it'll just taste worse, and if it's good, why mess with a masterpiece?

Some cheers, jeers, and barely theres:

After all the bally-hoo surrounding Alpha Dog, it'd be nice if director Nick Cassavetes's cinematic drama rivaled his legal one. Predictably, though, the film itself never transcends its Titanic syndrome: You know the ending, and it ain't good. What's best are some of the startling strong performances Cassavetes coaxed out of his young actors, most notably from Six Feet Under's Ben Foster as Jake (get this) Mazursky. Such Hollywood homages proliferate the film, which is highly well-intended. But it's hard to make a film about such unsympathetic, self-involved people as Valley teenagers sympathetic. Apparently, too hard. And Cassavetes' legal problems translated into a sloppy tacked-on ending including at least five minutes of Sharon Stone weeping copiously in a fat suit. Come to think of it, though, that last bit may have had more to do with problems fulfilling a diva's contract. [KEEP READING...]

How Distribution (Doesn't) Work

During Sundance 2006, as our trusty metabloggers documented, a bevy of films sold before you could even utter Whatchyou talkin' bout, Weinstein? But even after speaking with industry types and filmmakers galore, I still don't think there's a clear method to the madness of what lands deals.

For sure, there are open-and-shut cases. Little Miss Heaven sold because it worked; the much-anticipated and then much-maligned Open Window didn't because it didn't. Other deals draw on past successes — Right at Your Door was snapped up because it smacked vaguely of Blair Witch Project, for example. And then there are deals stemming from outright guesswork loosely masquerading as cynical scientific equations. As in the case of the somewhat hackneyed Wordplay (admittedly, a movie I really dug): Times crossword puzzlers = moneyed, educated leisure class = enough cashish to hire a babysitter + willingness to hit an arthouse flick on a Saturday night = good investment. Not that there's anything wrong with that. [KEEP READING...]

The August Cliff Doerksen Weighs In

I struck up Time Out Chicago critic Cliff Doerksen's aquaintance at Sundance press offices, and found him comic, just snarky enough, and kind enough to oblige us with a few of his final Sundance thoughts:

Nothing blew me away as comprehensively as Bobcat Goldthwait's perversely charming rom-com Stay, starring the wonderful Melinda Page Hamilton as a nice girl with a disgusting sexual secret in her past. The rancid Tarantino rehash Lucky Number Slevin was a drag (and boy, did I get tired of being told how "smart" it was), but nothing bummed me out worse than the inexplicable British "musical documentary" Songbirds, in which the inmates of a women's penitentiary lip-synched to stillborn rap numbers about their hard lives.

I'd never been to Sundance or any other fest before, so I've got nothing to compare it to, but I had way more fun in Park City than I thought I would. The people-watching was great, especially if, like me, you dote on middle-aged Eurotrash in black leather trousers and high-concept eyewear. But all the conspicuous fabulousness notwithstanding, the atmosphere was absurdly friendly and sociable. I don't know when I've had as many interesting conversations with total strangers. Just on those grounds, I'd say Sundance has a continued right to exist.

For more of Cliff's Sundance edicts, check out his Time Out Chicago home base.

Film Comment Critic Amy Taubin Weighs In

Amy Taubin, esteemed Film Comment critic, was kind enough to pen a few words for Flavorpill Sundance about her thoughts on this year's festival. Here's what she had to say:

This the first Sundance where I didn't fall in love with at least one one film. Perhaps I chose badly (twinge of guilt), but I don't think there was a Donnie Darko, a Primer, a Police Beat or, to revisit some ancient history, a Safe, a Kids, a Clerks or a sex, lies and videotape. Gone are the days when a wild-haired Steven Soderbergh had nothing better to do while waiting for the premiere of the film that would put Sundance on the Industry map than to take a shift or two driving one of the shuttle buses. The films I liked quite a bit at Sundance '06, and I suspect I'll like even more in less hectic circumstances, are Kelly Reichardt's delicate, melancholy Old Joy, which should have been in the dramatic comepetition and not in the marginalized Frontier section, and the Larry Clark section of the artist-make-porn omnibus Destricted. The rest of Destricted is pretty lame, but Clark's hefty half-hour was, hands down, the best documentary at the festival, where, as usual, the docs, as a group, easily out-class the fiction films.

Thank You For Not Opining

There's a rumor going around here that critic Roger Ebert has a two-hour rule. For the first two hours after viewing a film, he not only won't offer his opinion but won't listen to anyone else's, either. Pity that more filmgoers don't take a page from his book of cinetiquette.

Everyone's been guilty of it at some point: You're sitting in a theater, the film's only halfway completed, and you're already calculating an opinion guaranteed to razzle and dazzle. You may even be concocting a catch phrase to zing as soon as the credits roll. [KEEP READING...]

Snarkdance

There's quite a bit of persnickety snarking going around Park City, so let's collect the negativity in one place, breathe, and let go.... Freeloading celebs are easy to mock, and general indictments of the variety "Sundance has lost its cultural mojo" are dime a dozen. The smack talk gets juicier the more personal it gets: Terry Zwigoff is entertaining "a sophomoric audience," Al Gore and his soil erosion slide show is "the biggest hurdle" ever faced by an indie film, and Lou Reed himself calls Factory Girl "one of the most disgusting, foul things I've seen - by any illiterate retard - in a long time." Ouch. By comparison, it's almost quaint when the head of the MPAA ratings board calls the director of This Movie is Not Yet Rated "a little bit disingenuous." Here's the ultimate put-down for any attention addict: "In two years, nobody's going to remember that name; mark my words. But to be fair, two years from now, nobody's gonna remember mine either." Says who?

Chris Penn 1962 - 2006

Chris Penn, the oft-underrated costar of such indie staples as Reservoir Dogs and Short Cuts, was found dead in his Santa Monica home. The causes are as yet unknown. His latest film, The Darwin Awards, was set to premiere tonight at Sundance.

The brother of Oscar winner Sean Penn and son of TV director Leo Penn, Chris suffered from a cinematic case of always a bridesmaid, never a bride. But it was that inconspicuousness which rendered his performances so immediately accessible. In his roles he often channeled the more vulnerable colors of the human condition. It is to the film community's great loss that he will not be able to do so anymore.

All That Buzz

"A feeding frenzy seems inevitable!" As the kick-off parties are getting under way, the blogosphere is aflutter with buzz. Lacking any actual news, the advance coverage is getting breathless. Variety has a special section up ("New landscape in Park City!"), GreenCine's David D'Arcy sorts films by subject matter, David Germain sees more politics than usual ("a veritable soapbox!"), and USA Today offers an entirely politics-free tip sheet. Kenneth Turan speaks of "Mardi Gras North," but it's Anthony Kaufman who has the harshest label: "Suckdance!" he announces, before backpedalling a little. ("Dishearteningdance" didn't quite have the same ring to it.) Cinematical is rather more generous: "Naysayers will say Sundance is moving towards the mainstream; I'd counter that the mainstream is moving towards Sundance."

Sundancing as Fast as I Can

Sounds like someone stomped on Manohla Dargis's snow angel. How else to explain the cynical tone the NYT film critic takes in her Sundance critic's notebook in today's paper, "Sundance, for Indies, A Soft Kiss Before Dying"? [Although we're lovin' those dada heds at the Times.]

So, what's the problem with Sundance this time? La Manohla breaks it down in no uncertain terms:

Well, for starters, "that annual combustion of hype, creative endeavor and wind chill called the Sundance Film Festival" is nothing more than a manifestation of that "collective fiction known as the American independent film movement." Turns out most people today hit Park City intent on celeb-sighting and swag-grabbing and deal-making with other machers rather than actually seeing the films. Bad, shallow people! [This would never happen at Cannes.]
[KEEP READING...]

Brokeback Utah

Coming off a year in which gay cowboy flick Brokeback Mountain met with resounding critical approval — how's four Golden Globes, including Best Drama and Best Screenplay? — if not substantive distribution outside of large metropolitan areas, LGBT filmmakers head to Sundance this year with a new, er, spring in their step, a raft of promising entries, and a mandate.

In addition, the Queer Lounge returns for its third year in a row, and, unlike many other Sundance lounges in effect, is actually open to the public. Hosting celebrity DJ gigs with John Cameron Mitchell and the saucy Shannyn Sossamon, who stars in this year's suicide dream Wristcutters: A Love Story, as well as a bunch of think panels featuring Gus Van Sant, Maria Maggenti, Kirby Dick (This Film Is Not Yet Rated), and Jennie Livingston (Paris is Burning), among others, the Queer Lounge will be in effect from Jan 20th - 28th. (The lounge also sets up shop at Toronto for the first time in September.)

According to the Queer Lounge's count there are 19 LGBT features on the Sundance roster this year, and that's not including shorts or what they've got slated over at Slamdance. But I'm just focusing here on the films that actually address out-and-out gay subject matter, so to speak, which leads me to this shortlist of LGBT films that may be worth getting all hot and bothered about:

All Aboard! Rosie's Family Cruise: The L Word's love boat episode comes to feature-length fruition, family-style, in this doc about Rosie and her partner Kelli's landmark cruise with LGBT families. But when the ship finally docks, its passengers meet with a rabid, homophobic crowd. Not being a Rosie fan, it's hard to whip up a frenzy about this one, but I heard she was awful in Fiddler on the Roof so I guess you never can tell. [KEEP READING...]

Film Resourcery

To get the DIY downlow on everything happening in 'danceland, hit our stacked Links page. You can geek out on the fest by checking out the simul-Sundance events, pimp out your film blogger bookmarks, or embroil yourself in the biz buzz. Gentlemen, start your clicking...

The Sweet Sting of Success

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. [KEEP READING...]