some girls wander by mistake.

too much time has passed, too full of things already forgotten or difficult to describe, for me to write anything but a digest of my first week at sundance. in a nutshell, i can say that i have nothing bad to report, which is, in and of itself, a triumph.

i am rooming with my favorite two sundance volunteers, and our lodging will probably never be bested by any future arrangement. the condo, whose hot tub and heated pool we have yet to test out, is walking distance to both main street and several major venues; it seems, all the screenings i have attended have been at theatres less than a mile away from where i rest my head.

for my third year, i'm working at headquarters, which is a brisk but beautiful 1.4 mile walk. i take it every morning i can, letting the snow and cold and, if it's late enough, sun, invigorate me. though i am never a morning person, i am closest to one when i am traveling, forced into strange surroundings and a different routine.

the week began with the usual hum of check-in, the part of the festival busiest for my department (when the army of vounteers arrive). i grocery shopped to supplement the completely ridiculous quantity of food i packed (assuming, somewhat accurately, that eating Well here would be a challenge). park city remained the calm before the storm--the storm of sundance--wherein traffic on main street was desolate enough for a lone camerawoman to take photographs from its precipice; where shitty bars are just shitty bars. and then all of NYC and L.A. arrive.

the first screening i attended was mad bastards, a feature for volunteers only. then came the staff party, which balanced somehow decent food (read: no Table of Hot Dogs circa 2010) and good music. my second screening, submarine, knocked my socks off.

then the festival officially began (after many of us have been in festival country for many days). which means film screenings are littered with celebrities (and thus, become difficult to get into), and every bar on main street charges an exorbitant cover ($20 to see "the best blues band you'll ever hear" or $40 to see a no-name indietronic band). when the festival is in full force, i'm generally cramming in as many films as possible, and checking in the filmmakers at their fantastic magic schwag room.

as usual, it is the filmmakers (rather than volunteers, who both receive their own outwear + accessories) that are humble, appreciative, honored. the volunteers, as a whole, are appreciative but exercise a ridiculous sense of entitlement. so it is that filmmakers--many that have worked their entire career (be it 3 years or 30) to have a film (short or feature length) accepted into the sundance film festival--who are generous (directors often giving their gear to spouses or co-producers or even lead actors), appreciative, positive.

of the filmmakers i've encountered this year, i've found the shorts and non-US directors to be the most genuine and down to earth; the "famous" ones to be nice but sometimes distracted. on day one of filmmaker check-in morgan spurlock rubbed me the wrong way, but then returned a couple times and was phenomenally nice and receptive. other directors i was so thrilled to speak with: fenton bailey and randy barbato (party monster, becoming chaz), madeline olnek, bill weber. (no akari or kevin smith. or richard ayoade, who i had planned to propose to). adam yauch talked at length with chrissigrl, then gave her (and by proxy, us), tickets to his screening of fight for your right revisited. i met the creators of marcel the shell with shoes (also acquaintances of chrissigrl, because apparently NYC is a small town?), and they informed me that our press office even created a tiny credential pass for marcel, which jenny then demonstrated how marcel would feel about that. the director of the oregonian confessed to filming in washington and california; the director of lord byron filmed 30 miles away from where i grew up in louisiana.

recurring themes/trends in the festival: technology and us as "users" (yelp, connected, the woods), oregon or the pacific northwest (how to die in oregon, the woods, we were here, the oregonian), religion and cults (higher ground, red state, martha marcy may marlene). and then your random sprinkling of queer (pariah, becoming chaz, codependent lesbian space alien seeks same) and the arts.

i am almost burned out on documentaries. almost.

lou reed's screening of red shirley was, apparently, a private screening, premiering here as in "sundance" but not actually accepted into the festival. which means i didn't get into that, nor his "celebration of music in film" performance. oh well. there's always next year, where yet another 70s rock icon can slip through my fingers.

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tonight, i'm attempting to see four films. wish me luck. and remind me to write about the film viewing experience being shorter than the waiting-for-tickets experience, something i apparently selectively forgot.

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just got my official sundance volunteer assignment placement! 17-31 january, 2011; back to Logisics; still full-time; still with lodging. i'm really excited and pleased. it's crazy to think that there are year-round salaried positions, as well as 6 month contracts, all for a festival that spans just 10 days.

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i dreamt of sean connery last night (completely random. he bought me beers and i tweeted, "sean connery just bought me a beer."). perhaps a sign of brushes with fame to come?

title: hesher
director: spencer susser
category: world premiere, drama
rating: 5 out 5 stars

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writing film reviews is a hard enough challenge: the delicate balance between summary without over-sharing or spoiling, and having one's personal opinion of the film come through in the voice of the piece. i make no effort to be a Film Critic, but i know i've studied film and seen enough of them to recognize quality, as well as be able to identify the trademarks of What I Like In Film.

hesher is not the kind of film i traditionally would like. which is to say, the triumph of director spencer susser's piece is that it won me over with an unlikely story and artfully crafted narrative and characterization. that it is the only film (other than pepperminta) that i would absolutely watch again.

hesher tells the story of a family unit mourning the loss of a member. seen through the eyes of young T.J., he copes with the Awkward Age of thirteen, now without a mother. his entrance to the film shows young T.J. chasing after the tow truck that carries the car of the fatal accident away. full of innocence and angst, T.J. meets hesher (played by joseph gordon-levitt). in mainstream comedies, the two would forge a quirky and unexpected companionship that exasterbates their differences but shows that friendship leads the way to the perfect happy ending. well, that's not the tempo of hesher. instead, we learn how different worlds collide, with complexity, incompatibilities, and the rawest of emotions.

when i returned from sundance, i often referred to the film as "a heavy metal donnie darko." that's still not far off. much of the magic of the storytelling has been distilled in my over-stuffed brain since i saw the film in january, but the impression it left on me is still strong. see it.

2 final film reviews from sundance: my only 2 five-out-of-five films remain. (my apologies, coffeefortwo, i know you hate when these pop up on your FL.)


title: pepperminta
director: pipilotti rist
category: new frontier (foreign: german)
rating: 5 out 5 stars

picture yourself on a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. that's pretty much what director rist has in mind, in her maximalist sensory explosion of a film, pepperminta. the film spotlights a dynamic and spirited young woman named pepperminta, and follows her as she interacts with the world using her own special gifts: a racing imagination, strawberry friends, and color-palatte lenses through which the world begins to make a little more sense. along her journey she befriends several beautiful humans, each outsiders in their own way, who represent different societal fears or stigmas. their journey together, pepperminta's joyous and colorful worldview, and the resulting connection between them all, weave a vibrant tapestry. pepperminta delicately and artistically explores refrains of lost inhibitions, the innoncence of childhood, love, and the acceptance of self...in technicolor.

the cast and crew were exceptional. i was present for the Q&A with the director, pipilotti rist, and was moved to hear her inspiration in telling the story of pepperminta. readers, i feel like i can not do this film justice, my screening now several months past. i remember my senses being delighted by the cinematography, the attention to color and composition, the uniqueness of the set and direction. the characters were round and inspiring. pepperminta is that woman and that little girl that lurks in most colorful part of my mind's eye, the one i have to sometimes quiet, when she tells me licking mailboxes is OK, or that that strawberries can whisper.

i loved this film. pepperminta has equal parts amelie and sgt. peppers. it is wildly beautiful, touching, inspiring. i can't wait to watch it again. and since i've run out of things to dote about, i'll leave you with the trailer.

title: HOWL
director: jeffrey friedman and rob epstein
category: world premiere, U.S. dramatic competition
rating: 4 out 5 stars

i saw the best mind's of my generation, hard at work at what was intended to be a documentary. but jeffrey friedman and rob epstein realized that what they were envisioning could not be best told in just that format: it needed color, action, youth. with that, HOWL transformed, from a primarily educational film exploration of the 1957 obscenity trial in san francisco, to a rounded biopic with various threads intertwined.

a young allen ginsberg is played by james franco, visually replicating interviews and scenes from ginsberg's early years, mastering the curled gravel growl, the audible sound of smiles, the deliberation so essential to ginsberg's delivery. these scenes make up about one third of the film, spliced between scenes of reading from the poem "HOWL" (which is, i believe, read in its entirety throughout the film) as well as verbatim courtroom scenes re-enacted from transcripts. in some ways, it is hard to believe that 50 years ago the supreme court was fighting over whether poetry had to have merit to be considered literature (and thus, be considered not obscene); in other contexts, we are still fighting battles for freedom of expression, free speech, and censorship today.

HOWL's weakest link in the story-telling comes in the visuals displayed for parts of the poem. while franco's beat poet is filmed in smoky black and white, in coffee shops where he perfected his spoken word, there are a decent number (8-10?) of animated interludes that are something you'd expect out of...a whole-grain bread commercial. colorful, surreal-without-being-psychadelic, distorted male figures like an ayn rand covers, these interludes are completely distracting and disharmonious. during the Q&A session after the film, i asked filmmakers epstein and friedman what the motivation was for the animated sequences. they replied that they felt that it was important to show a young ginsberg as an integral part of setting the tone of the era. this animation, done overseas, was selected as a visual representation of parts of "HOWL" before they decided to cast and move towards a biopic and away from a documentary. it is my sincere hope that these sections are re-done before a theatrical release, but i won't hold my breath.

over the last decade i've realized a freeing truth: i'm not a fan of the beat poets. but i am a huge fan of biopics, and this film (animation aside) is well done and well crafted, giving both cultural and historical context, and bringing to the screen significant moments in our cultural timeline.

title: the taqwacores
director: eyad zahra
category: NEXT, drama
rating: 4 out 5 stars

oh to be young and living in new york city: rebellious, punk rock, and, oh, yeah, muslim.

the taqwacores is a special film that serves as cultural representation of something presumably few people are aware of (a punk muslim movement), exploring the conflicts and compatibilities through a rainbow of muslim characters and taqwacore bands. the film is based on a novel by the same name, originally self-published D.I.Y zine style before finding a publisher. author michael muhammad knight served as the co-writer on the film adaptation, along with director eyad zahra.

the story follows a young pakistani-american named yusef, a conservative and responsible young man looking for a room for rent. finding an "all muslim" rental unit available, yusef finds himself in for a surprise to end up living in a gutterpunk party house, home or refuge to the muslim freaks of the city. skinheads, punk rockers, queers, potheads...all are welcome.

these unique characters help demonstrate the many faces of islam in the muslim community, challenging yusef's traditional ideas, along with those of a tattoo'd straight-edger, who struggles with the punks' muslim-punk lifestyle. and it's not a complimentary or simple dichotomy. one of the strengths of the storyline is the collective pool of such unique and well-carved characters, each with varying thoughts on their religion and their bodies.

now is a good time to mention my favorite character, rabeya, a riot grrrl who wears a burqa, embellished with punk patches, and complimented by doc martens. rabeya is, in many ways, the heart of the house: dispensing advise and showing yuself that allah isn't about Just One Thing. (e.g. she has also taken it upon herself of scratching out a section of the koran that demands for a husband to beat his wife.)

now's also a good time to mention i sat next to a taqwacore punk dude at the screening, which made me very very happy.

there was so much i responded to in the taqwacores. the saturation of the film was very unique: an almost copper-toned sepia tint to everything, rendering it somehow grittier but more forgiving in tonality. there were several heavy-handed shout outs to punk film and filmmakers, which worked well within the house throughout various scenes. and of course, there was the music, which pulled from various styles (hip-hop, arabic, bollywood, punk) as well as the traditional sounds of muslim instrumentation. the word taqwacore has its origin in the arabic word for "piety" or "god-fearing," and (says wiki) "denotes fear and love of the divine."

title: armless
director: habib azar
category: NEXT, world premiere (comedy)
rating: 4 out 5 stars

the story seems universal enough: man and woman get married. man has a secret he believes he can't tell anyone. man finally realizes he can't live a lie anymore, so he leaves his wife to head to NYC to satisfy his heart's desires and live an honest life.

the unique factor in this dark (i mean, dark) comedy armless is that our protagonist, john, suffers from body integrity identity disorder, and has wanted (since childhood) to have his arms cut off. based on the award-winning play of the same name by kyle jarrow, director habib azar adapts this wonderfully quirky story about john's struggle with honesty, love, and identity. the result is a moving and disturbingly humorous fable with tremendously strong performances by the cast.

john has a traditionally "good" life: a loving wife, a nice house, a decent job. in the opening scene, he leaves a voice message for his wife telling her he's leaving her. john then drives to NYC, in search for a doctor who, he's heard on the internet, will "do it" for him. but in a case of mistaken doctoral identity, john realizes he will have to take matters into his own hands, and cut off his own arms. he is then located and confronted by his wife in new york, where he attempts to tell her the truth. "my arms," he begins. "what's wrong with them?" she asks. "i have them."

the film stays strong, filled with humor with moving honesty and complexity. this is largely thanks to the strength of the protagonist, played by daniel london. john's characterization is sincere, and never once falling into the obviously easy trap of freak characterization or absurdity. supporting characters keep the story fresh and interesting, and, like any good fable, armless closes with a solid ending. even more impressive is the fact that habib's film, as a NEXT film category submission, was shot with low- or no-budget, making the strength of the direction and acting even more powerful.

title: all that i love
director: jacek borcuch
category: world cinema dramatic competition (drama, foreign: polish)
rating: 3 out 5 stars

telling a unique coming of age story isn't easy. while most efforts tend to feel bland and cliched, borcuch's crafts a distinctive tale with all that i love given the political and cultural landscape's ability to transform, an add distinction. the film is set in 1981 in poland, during a time of socialism and social turmoil. from behind the iron curtain, our lead character, janek, is a teenage schoolboy in a punk rock band. and this film is what you expect to happen to him--first-love, rebellion, sexual exploration, conflict with authority--within the gritty realism of that sociohistorical framework.

janek is the son of a navy captain, with a quaintly adopted anarchist strike. his band ATIL (all that i love) is a realistic echo of the classic 80s punk movement in europe, laboring through songs about repression and frustration with socialism. janek meets basia and they fall in love. and yes, it's cliche, but it is not weak: the couple have their fair share of obstacles, including families of varying political backgrounds, the source of tension as the two attempt to court. say anything this is not.

all key elements lead up to the film's pivotal scene, wherein ATIL is asked not to perform at a school function, due to the anarchist content of their songs. rising action in the Solidarity movement creates a protest, and the perfect formula for a punk-worthy rock show. even if it's, you know, at a high school.

all that i love is strong, but not overpoweringly moving. it tells a genuine story--both that of the character's and of the era--but political repression seems to permeate the character's psyches so heavily, that i found most characters almost dull, beaten down, one dimensional. and while there are moments of sincerity and vividness, overall i failed to connect in any real meaningful way to the film as a whole.

title: vegetarian
director: lim woo-seong
category: world cinema dramatic competition (drama, foreign: korean)
rating: 1 out 5 stars

a young woman awakens to horrific dreams, causing her to reject all the meat in her household. without any real exploration of what she saw in her nightmares, or how she was feeling, vegetarian awkwardly begins without purpose, and ends in much the same way.

in a culture that (at least, in this film) equates meat with health and strength, the woman's newfound vegetarianism (really, veganism) is taken for insolence. at a family dinner just 20 minutes into the film, her husband stares and/or screams at her; her father tries to force-feed her meat; the women cry and plead for her to obey. but the lead character is undeterred, and refuses meat, even after an attack from her father, opting instead to slice her wrist with a knife.

after being hospitalized for the suicide attempt, her relationship with her own husband falls apart, and her sister becomes a care-taker, worried about her mental and physical health. however the sister's husband, a "tormented" artist, is fascinated, and begins sketching new ideas for art that uses the human form as a canvas. and so, the story's awkward plot curves around the premise of a "secret" art project wherein the painter paints flowers on the vegetarian's body. from there the film expands into a series of sex scenes that are neither artful nor pornographic: sadly, these somewhat bland scenes are the strongest part of this very weak film.

everything about this film is a mess. it's a mess in the way sometimes foreign films just don't translate well to the tourist-viewer. it's a mess in the sense it lacks story-line, exposition, or any real sense of purpose. and it's also the first foreign film i've ever noted a Bad Actor. nothing is ever reconnected. the woman's sadness from dreams we never see causes her essentially to be depressed and anorexic, with no resolution other than institutionalization. the flashbacks of her childhood do nothing but show gratuitous domestic violence and hardship. the supporting characters over-act around the lead's stillness, making the lack of a compelling story even more awkward. of course, the sister discovers the sex-and-paint videotapes, but nothing comes of it. in the end, the vegetarian is basically a vegetable: refusing to eat, staring off into space, longing to be a tree. and in the end, all i wanted was for it to be over.

it's strange when you have an all-encompassing experience how it seems to operate in a tangent reality, as though a departure point can be noted on your personal timeline, while the Day-to-Day you is still trudging along in routine. thrown back into that life, it's sort of like you've never left; it's like nothing ever changed. time travel films exploit this motif often: the concept that "reality" is and was and always will be...except for that one little clue that proves You Have Changed Your History.

in a similar way, i've returned home from the sundance film festival, and in many ways it's like i never left. bike lanes and laundry, conference calls and late night plans, puddles and chihuahuas, food carts and snuggling. yet there's something residual that makes it clear things aren't exactly as i left them.

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friday day i worked with my favorites, an easy shift of filmmaker check-in. strangely, a lot of directors had waited until this last day to pick up their schwag, which was rather unfortunate, because we had started running out of a lot of sizes and styles of timberland goodies. everyone was still amazingly nice. our department got pizza catering (i don't want to look at another bagel or slice of pizza for at least a month, jesus christ), and there is something about free pizza that pretty much just always feels like a middle school classroom party, doesn't it? erm, anyway.

after work i went to the screening for all that i love, the only (?) polish film that screened at sundance. i was falling asleep about mid-way through the film, which i knew meant i was too tired to pull off a second screening. i talked to a lot of people, and really, the worst thing that happens to festival-goers is exhaustion: the poor jurors have to plow through dozens of films in just 2 weeks, and you just know they aren't bright eyed and bushy-tailed for all of them. as for me, certainly, my "favorite" films were the ones i saw earlier on in the festival; my criticism got far heavier and less forgiving the less sleep i got.

so it was that friday night was uneventful. there were many texts floating around, trying to align, but in the end i didn't really feel like going out, and didn't have the attention span for any of the film screenings. friday might have been the first and only night i went to sleep before midnight during the entire festival.

saturday morning i had wanted to try to wake up early to get to the shorts program i, which featured a spike jonze short and another one i heard good things about, but the prospect of a 7:20 arrival just to wait for a ticket did not appeal to me. instead, i slept in, pampered myself with a massive breakfast, and went to work, after which i was dismissed after only a couple hours (because there was nothing to do). i tried to meet up with h. for catfish but found out that all the tickets (wait-list included) had been given out hours before, a phenomenon i can't wrap my head around (seriously, unless you're loaded or a volunteer/press/industry, do not attend SFF. you'll either never see anything, or you'll spend 7 hours of your life per film). i went back home to freshen up for the closing night awards party, which was gratefully at the venue closest to my lodging. around party-time i headed over, only to be greeted by a line of hundreds of people in queue, waiting to get in. good lord, i almost bailed to go home, but i am oh so glad i didn't. once inside, i was completely stunned at just how large this event actually was. a "private event" only open to volunteers (1600 of us), staff (400), press & industry (1000+), filmmakers and crew (who knows how many) was massive, easily thousands of people, all under one roof. there was food i never ate. there was the world's longest drink line. the DJ was amazingly good. i made new friends. i lost track of existing friends. everything was pretty much awesome...

...and then the lights came on at midnight. because in park city, that's how we roll.

thankfully a friend of mine knew of a party going on off main street at the music cafe, so i informed my new friends and filled up my water bottle with my remaining glasses of wine. through the freshly falling snow, we queued up to load on a bus with everyone, which basically felt like stepping on a magical mystery tour bus: everyone overly animated, full of stories and drink, ringing in their last night at the festival like it was the last night before a new year. crazy.

the after-party was just about as douchy as it can be (filled with, to quote c: "devil[s] in a popped collar"), but we made do. fog machine overdose! bad music overdose! ridiculous dancing. oh, my goodness, though, so much fun. who cares if i think i actually heard "informer" by snow. it's utah, it was after 3am, i was happy to be just about anywhere at that point. and while i was overjoyed to be there, in that moment, i was also really stoked to be leaving in less than 24 hours.

the evening came to a close in epic proportions, which included an outdoor hot tub and more ridiculousness than i've had in a long, long time. needlesstosay, my last shift at headquarters on sunday was a messy blur of sleep depravation and a body in protest. lots of zoning out, lots of caffeine. dragging my luggage (1 large roller bag and 2 smaller bags) through snow, on the wrong bus, then to headquarters was a complete challenge. but evening came, and so did my shuttle to the airport, and off i went back to gloomy oregon. home sweet home.

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not like it isn't obvious, but i'll definitely be returning to the festival next year. and i'm actually completely at peace with returning to my position/department in Logistics, contrary to all the hesitancy i had between 2009 festival and this one. i know i wanted (and want) variety, but truly, a flexible position at the festival is 100x better than simply a different job description on paper. i learned from a lot of theatre folks what i didn't want (working every night until 2AM as a prospect, for example, or working outdoors); i learned from a lot of other volunteers just how god damn lucky i had it in logistics (hauling trash, tearing tickets all day, department drama of various kinds); i realized i pretty much had it made: getting to meet all the filmmakers, decent hours (the department is only open 9-6), free schwag, awesome teammates (mostly) and even more awesome higher-ups. and this is a 2-weeks-out-of-the-year gig: there's nothin' i can't buck up and take.

and, that's it! see ya next year suckkas.


*for you, chrissigrl.