Star gazing at Sundance

Just got back (because I’m such a lazy blogger, "just got back" means three weeks ago) from the Sundance film festival. I feel so in-the-know and all cultural-like, actually traveling outside of New York to go see movies. Park City was beautiful. You can’t beat 40-degree weather, snow that didn’t turn black within 10 minutes of falling, and lounging around in a lodge all day. Plus there was the fun occasional celebrity sighting.

I’ve read some reports in Variety that the festival this year wasn’t as eagerly anticipated as in the past. And there was criticism, even from Mr. Sundance himself, Robert Redford, that the festival is getting too big for its britches—literally, in the sense that the festival is outgrowing the town of Park City, and figuratively, in that it’s becoming too commercial (there was a party sponsored by a dog-food company. Wha?).

Well, being a first-timer, I didn’t have anything to compare it to, so I thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Don’t know much about the commercial aspect of it, and I didn’t attend any crowded beautiful-people blowouts (all the regular bars close at 1 a.m); I was just happy to have avoided the New York snow storm and relax a bit. The hardest thing I had to do was decide which movie to try to get tickets for. I got the opportunity to go because a friend of my roommate’s was debuting his short film there, Swim Test. Quite an impressive achievement, saying you made a movie AND it got into Sundance. Anyway, his family rented a condo lodge for the weekend (made out of real logs) and he housed a bunch of his friends, and for a brief weekend I lived in a commune-like enviroment, as if I belonged to one of those radical Mormon sects where the menfolk have like twenty wives. It also reminded me a little of those youth-group retreats I used to go on in high school, the major difference being the lack of ramen bowls at each meal and the whole Jesus aspect.

I think the feature that I enjoyed the most was The Matador, a movie starring Pierce Brosnan and Greg Kinnear, in which dashing Pierce lets his gut go playing a smarmy assassin who’s losing his cool; he’s burned out and starting to grow a conscience. Greg Kinnear plays the down-on-his-luck businessman who has a chance meeting with Brosnan at the hotel bar and ends up being an accomplice to his final gig as a "facilitator of fatalities." It was funny and quirky and had some clever dialogue.

Another feature I saw was a Korean movie, Green Chair, which is basically a soft porno. I’m still not used to seeing Asian actors make out; it’s kind of like watching your relatives do it or something. Plus I was sitting next to my friend’s dad—hello, THAT wasn’t uncomfortable. I mean, there are blow job scenes and everything. Anyway, the movie was about a 32-year-old woman and a 19-year-old boy who try to continue their relationship even though she’s been sentenced to community service for statutory rape (in Korea, you’re still a minor under 20). It definitely had it’s sweet and funny moments, and it’s interesting to see Korean movies becoming just as graphic, whether it’s in violence or sexuality, as American movies are. I am still not sure whether the last few scenes, in which the lovers throw the minor a 20th birthday party, inviting essentially every other character in the movie (including her ex-husband and his parents) was a dream sequence or real. Overall the movie was enjoyable and tries to break some of the gender roles that may still hold in Korean society, but I couldn’t help thinking that the female lead comes off as a bitchy, moody, and slightly crazy Korean girl. I mean, I’m bitchy and moody and slightly crazy, but I don’t want the rest of the world to know that.

The final feature I saw was The Jacket, a suspense movie starring Adrien Brody and Keira Knightly. Brody plays a Gulf War vet who gets shot in the head but recovers. Later, when he’s well enough to hitchhike, he helps a drugged out mom and daughter (supposed to be Keira’s character as a little girl) on the side of the road, starting their stalled car—though he lets the clearly brain-fried mom back behind the wheel. Later Brody catches a ride with Brad Renfro; it turns out the guy is a fugitive who shoots a cop who pulls him over. Brody blacks out after getting caught in crossfire, gets framed for the crime, and is sentenced to a mental institution. He is clearly not crazy, yet is forced to undergo these insane treatments where he’s drugged and put in a mortuary drawer in a strait jacket. During the few hours that he is in the drawer he somehow hallucinates himself into the future where he meets and falls in love with Keira Knightly as a young woman, who proceeds to tell him that he’s going to die…they go on a Scooby-Doo like mystery hunt to find out how he dies…etc. etc. This is where the story gets kind of convoluted. One plot twist is that (SPOILER ALERT!) it turns out that Brody doesn’t actually die in the hands of some evil psychiatrist as you may be led to believe, but because of an accident that could have been easily prevented with some rubber-soled shoes.

The movie was alright; I enjoyed moreso seeing the celebs who came to the screening. The cast was there (Brody’s girlfriend was wearing a glittery tank top in 20-degree weather). Tobey Maguire was there some 50 pounds heavier and clearly didn’t care that he looked a schlumpy joe who sits at the Ruby Tuesdays on a Friday night downing Bud Lights at the bar. You know what though, I say good for him—it’s okay to let yourself go once in a while. And I’m sure he’ll be back in shape once he realizes that he might lose his Spiderman role to his trimmer doppelganger Jake Gyllenhall.

Speaking of Jake Gyllenhall, sister Maggie was on our flight coming back from Salt Lake; she was looking bored and tired along with the rest of us who were waiting for the plane folks to unfreeze the cargo doors so our baggage could come out. She was with her mom, I think, and a friend, and seemed like an overall pleasant person. Also on our flight was celeb chef Tyler Florence, who’s on the Food Network in a show called Food 911. One of his entourage, a woman was complaining into a phone that yes, she was with Tyler Florence, and that she was being tortured having to wait for her luggage. Tyler himself seemed to take it in stride. At one point he tried to put a dollar into the vending machine, which only took quarters. My roommate and I were tempted to go up to him and say, "Having a food emergency?" and whip out quarters like guardian angels.

Other random celeb sightings: Bishop Don Juan (some real-life pimp that gets play on MTV) in a Louis Vuitton overcoat and mariachi hat (the clothes were made out of that LV canvas used on the bags, not clothes material); Jay Mohr walking down Main St. and talking loudly; Tilda Swinton, I think, looking kinda ghost-like at The Jacket premier; Simon Rex, who I think was part of Adrien’s entourage, at The Jacket; Steven Soderbergh and Jules Asner also checking out The Jacket; Peter Cincotti crooning on Main St.

Some noteworthy shorts: Swim Test, of course…Are You the Favorite Person of Anybody? Staring at the Sun, Victoria Para Chino, Spelling Bee, and West Bank Story (the last two I enjoyed but thought they were a little too long).

Anyway, it was really hard to come back to New York. I would never want to move to Park City or anything, but it’s always hard for me to get back to the same mental state I was in before I left the city. I was basically a walking zombie for a few days but I’m back in reality now. Sigh.