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The Marquee at the Egyptian Theatre shines brightly.
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Park City, Utah -- The brief telephone message explains everything: "Hello and welcome to The Contender service line. If you're registering a kill, press one." For a reality TV show whose contestants win by killing their challengers, calling that number becomes a do-or-die proposition.
Dawn (Brooke Smith), seven months pregnant, is The Contender's reigning champion. She walks into a convenience store and quickly shoots her opponent in the back. She'll do whatever it takes to keep winning.
"I don't want to do this kind of thing," Dawn says, speaking directly to the camera. "But I have a baby on the way. I have to."
The phenomenon of reality-based TV shows is satirized wickedly by writer/director Daniel Minahan's smart and stylish Series 7. Its images of extreme violence are balanced by insightful observations about contemporary media and popular culture. As the Sundance film that came here with the most hype, Series 7 exceeds all expectations.
Sundance filmmakers follow a similar path of life-or-death survival. They must do whatever it takes for their film to be well received by press and industry at the end of the festival's 10 days. Basically, the Sundance Film Festival is a cinematic version of Minahan's Series 7 minus the gunplay.
"The festival is hard," says Series 7's Smith. "But it's also exciting, because people want to see the movie and, afterwards, they're telling other people they have to watch it for themselves."
Celebrating its 20th year in 2001, Sundance is a 10-day mediathon filled with its own brand of pulp entertainment. A quick glance at some of its 112 films offers the chance to discover the festival's proclivity for tabloid storytelling, with plenty of titles that reflect every type of pulp entertainment.
Raw Deal: A Question of Consent, a documentary about an alleged rape at a fraternity party at the University of Florida, builds its mystery around a sex scandal. A criminal caper undertaken by a pair of beautiful women is the basis for the British noir, Beautiful Creatures. These stories make the reports of George W. Bush's policymaking seem dull by comparison.
Besides, each film is accompanied by filmmakers, actors and their real stories of being inside the Park City bubble. Surviving the race that's Sundance can be as suspenseful as any of the stories in the movies on-screen.
First Time Filmmaker
Actor-turned-director Christine Lahti steps into the brightest spotlight as the director of the festival's opening-night film, My First Mister. Its story is a familiar, odd-couple dramedy: A punky 17-year-old girl named Jennifer (Leelee Sobieski) fosters a growing friendship with the middle-aged Randall (Albert Brooks), the uptight owner of a Brooks Brothers-like clothing store.
Lahti and her cast get the first taste of paparazzi. The media glare is intense. Lahti hopes festival reviews will be positive and help launch the film in strong fashion.
"Directing lies between acting and childbirth," she says, speaking the following day. "Actually, it's a little bit closer to childbirth."
My First Mister has its share of commercial-friendly moments, and the festival audience react favorably. But at the end of the press conferences, photo-ops and interviews, Lahti is ready to relax. Well, just a little.
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Photo By Steve Ramos
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Albert Brooks (left) and Leelee Sobieski cozy up in
support of My First Mister.
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"I heard people say that the characters Jennifer and Randall need to end up in bed or people aren't going to see the movie," Lahti says, flustered. "And these people should see another movie. Before this film, if asked what I wanted to do next, I would have said acting, acting, acting. But just now, after this premiere, I feel I just need a good story to tell."
Sitting alongside her, Brooks complements Lahti's earnestness with a jolt of comedy. He's the perfect commentator for a place where the size of one's cell phone really matters.
"There were bond people on the set watching the whole time," Brooks says. "Christine was trying to get an emotional moment on film, and the bond person was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder.
"In my whole life, I've never picked up The New York Times and read, 'What an incredibly bonded movie!' "
In the hoopla that is Sundance's opening day, Sobieski manages to attract the lion's share of attention. The reviews of her performance are positive. It's clear she's an actress capable of capturing teen-age anger and rebellion beautifully.
Sobieski's heartfelt and emotionally honest performance saves My First Mister from becoming a clunky soap opera. To every photographer's request for a pose, Sobieski, 18, responds with youthful enthusiasm.
Sundance's Most Wanted
The weather is Utah frigid, far too cold for leather pants. But Sobieski doesn't let the wintry conditions keep her from dressing up. This is her time to shine.
"This is my first film festival," she says. "So I don't know what to expect. But I'm thrilled to be at Sundance with an opening-night film."
Sobieski is a hot commodity, a true starlet with one-to-watch credentials plastered all over her growing work bio. She's taller than most people realize, towering over the crowds here.
The blond-tressed, New York City native became familiar thanks to her role in the 1998 blockbuster Deep Impact. But she flashed her indie credentials with standout performances in Merchant Ivory's A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries and director Stanley Kubrick's final film, Eyes Wide Shut.
There's so much Sobieski wants from life and from her profession. Sundance and the spotlight that surrounds her make up one more chapter in a fast-growing story.
"In this movie, I was pierced and pinched and glued in order to look like Jennifer," she says. "After the movie, I did keep all the piercings as a souvenir."
She hears the comparisons to Meryl Streep and Helen Hunt when people talk about her appearance. For the Sundance paparazzi, she strikes a stylish pose, resting her head on co-star Brooks' shoulder.
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Julianne Moore fresh from her date with Hannibal
Lecter
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As public scrutiny of Sobieski grows, Hollywood will continue to be even more demanding. Her time in the Sundance spotlight was the first of many lessons.
Rules, Rules, Rules
The need to push the boundaries of indie cinema and to create a new definition for "the Sundance film" continues with the festival's 20th incarnation. This year, variety seems to be the real trend.
"If someone would have told me that we would have a movie with substantial special effects like Donnie Darko, I would have told them they were crazy," says Geoffrey Gilmore, the festival's co-director.
Actor Sam Neill, joining director Rob Sitch in support of their film about Australia's role in the Apollo 11 moon mission, The Dish, understands it's more difficult for a feel-good comedy like theirs to survive in the Sundance landscape of grit and depression. The Dish is one of the rare films here that actually makes one feel warm inside. Of course, it's yet to be determined if that's a good thing.
"A friend told me, 'I don't want to ruin your chances, but this is a quality movie,' " Sitch says, relaxing with Neill. "There are tearful moments in The Dish that defy the glibness that controls most movies. I think cynicism is the default button in films today. I think cinema is more dynamic if you show the emotions. I love watching a movie with 400 people in a cinema and the handkerchiefs come out."
Potential strikes by writers (May 1) and actors (June 30) have Sundance hopefuls dreaming of big-money deals from studio executives desperate for finished films. But all predictions fall flat, with not a single sale in the first five days.
That's not to say there aren't Sundance films that still have the opportunity to be the first deal of 2001: Raw Deal, the graphic documentary about the Florida fraternity rape; In the Bedroom, about a family's struggle with unexpected loss; and Donnie Darko, a special-effects-driven tale about a delusional teen-ager. Sooner or later, a film will be sold here.
Julianne Moore's Funniest Home Videos
For the past 10 years, Sundance has honored a film artist who has made a significant contribution to independent film. This year, it's actress Julianne Moore.
Her tribute isn't a somber affair. After some videotaped well wishes from Steven Spielberg, Ralph Fiennes and Paul Thomas Anderson, Moore's brief tour begins with a quote from Stanislavski. But the scene on the Egyptian Theatre's screen quickly shifts to her scene from a popular soap opera, then to The Lost World and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle.
Basically, tonight's tribute is a satirical celebration of Moore's bad projects.
"And it's going to get even more embarrassing," says John Cameron Mitchell, the evening's host, as clips from a TV miniseries begin to play.
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Susan Lynch (left) and Rachel star in the British noir
Beautiful Creatures.
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"I've had a great career," Moore says. "A career that I couldn't even begin to imagine. As you can see from my early work, I didn't care where I worked as long as I had a job. But independent film has always been the place I looked to grow as an actress. Sundance has always been an incredible place for me."
The paparazzi are in full force, and flash bulbs light up the Main Street cinema. Moore is dressed casually in jeans and sweater, a black leather coat and big clunky boots. She could be the Sundance poster girl. Under the glare of TV cameras, she shares her priorities.
"You don't pretend to be a movie star," she says. "I wanted to have a job in a theater in a town somewhere, and I would do plays."
Moore is a celebrity, but she's also an actress who remains committed to smaller, independent films. She pushes the boundaries, accepts challenges and takes risks.
Two new projects loom on the horizon for her. A moment earlier, for the first time, she watched footage from her upcoming studio blockbuster, Hannibal. Later, she's starring in the independent feature, World Traveler.
Her personal goal is to continue to keep a balance between the worlds of Hollywood and independent film.
"I still get nervous when it's my day for a big scene," Moore says, laughing. "I'm the laziest actor in the world. My favorite day is the day I'm sitting on the bus."
The One Place Where Nobody Watches Bush's Inauguration
Most Americans spent the weekend watching Washington's inaugural fanfare. In Park City, the Sundance faithful have other priorities. There are parties to attend, free shwag to collect and deals to jump-start.
Basically, the Sundance community couldn't care less about George W. Well, except to poke fun at Laura Bush's red gown and the President's bumbling way with words.
"I don't want to talk about Mrs. Bush's fashion sense," Sitch says, laughing. "But did you get a look at her dress?"
"I turned on CNN out of curiosity to watch Bush's inauguration and promptly fell asleep five minutes into it," Neill says, laughing alongside Sitch.
Politics, schmolitics. What's really important to the people of Sundance is who wore what to the Golden Globes.
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Aunjanue Ellis (left) and Tamara Tunie promote
The Caveman's Valentine.
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Keep the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, hula dancers and giant Styrofoam bison in Washington, D.C. At Sundance, people are still trying to figure out the big Golden Globes mystery: What was Charlize Theron thinking when she got dressed?
Real Stories of the Sundance Filmmakers
It's not a done deal that taking one's film to Sundance will guarantee its successful launch into the public marketplace. From last year's festival films, only Saving Grace and You Can Count on Me have become sizable hits.
Sundance is a crap shoot, and the possibility of negative reviews and indifferent audience response looms large. Sundance is about nerves. It's about launching one's film and finding a buyer. It's not always easy for the filmmakers in attendance.
Speaking to a late-night audience, director Billy Corben says, "This is only the second public screening of this movie, and I managed to make myself twice as nervous."
There are offers pending for his riveting documentary about a university rape, Raw Deal. That is, if he's willing to make the necessary cuts to his film.
"This may be the last chance anyone has for seeing the movie as it is," he says.
The same thing can be said for Donnie Darko's writer/director, Richard Kelly. Cut the film, and you have a deal. Refuse to cut, and you wait and see if another deal comes along. Surviving Sundance is often this chancy.
At a Jan. 20 screening of Donnie Darko, Kelly watched in horror as the last reel of the film was projected upside-down and backwards. The film had to be stopped and rebuilt, and the screening was ruined. For the time being, Kelly was emotionally ruined, too.
Back at the Raw Deal screening, it's 1:30 a.m., and most of the crowd stays for questions.
"It's not the kind of thing you applaud after," Corben tells the crowd. "It's a trial, and the audience is the jury. And as the jury, you're left to decide and analyze the information."
Sundance dominates the landscape of American independent film, just as American movies dominate cinemas all over the world. After 20 years, the irony is that an event that doesn't set out to celebrate Hollywood product has remained the most important film festival in the United States.
For now, it's clear skies, dirty snow and more movies. Someday, there will be a marathon TV extravaganza about Sundance and its survivors. Ted Koppel will narrate. Darva Konger will host a segment titled "Who Wants to Marry a Million-Dollar Distributor?" Imagine a meeting between Geraldo Rivera and Miramax's own Harvey Weinstein.
There are tabloid stories and real-life adventures to share around the water coolers. The problem is that there are no water coolers at Sundance. Gossip happens out on the streets with a strong dose of cigarettes and Evian bottles.
The festival closes Sunday, and the search for that one "must see" film continues. Last year, Girlfight and You Can Count on Me had audiences excited. This time, the spot for the top film is still to be determined.
There are times when it's important to pop the Park City bubble and not take things too seriously.
"Sundance is like any big convention," says actress Ann Magnuson, in Park City to help promote her role in Kasi Lemmons' premiere film, The Caveman's Valentine. "It's a boat show. Who's got the biggest boat? Who's got the flashiest boat? Hey, c'mon and check out my boat. It's a boat show, well, except with films." ©
