Monday, 1 February 1999

Today, you actually get two days of Sundance for the price of one. And actually, there is a third, if you want to read my treatise on the showbiz life that ran yesterday. And if you ended up here and are looking for the Weekend Review, click here.

And now, Saturday. Saturday was, for all intents and purposes, the last day of the festival. That was the day they handed out the awards. And that's what we are all here for, right? Awards that mean cash returns? You know, it's an odd balance of cynicism and art here in Park City. There was some real emotion flowing up there onstage as awards went out, but at the same time, the reality of having another hook with which to sell your film was also in evidence.

I started the day by sleeping. (I still need a lot more.) I actually managed to get six hours after a 4:00 a.m. sleepytime on Friday. I woke up to run over to an 11:00 a.m. screening of The Autumn Heart, a film that has been a popular topic of conversation, apparently causing more tears than any other film at the festival. I could have gotten another half-hour because the screening was at 11:30. Duh! Before the screening began, we were welcomed by writer/actor Davidlee Willson, and sure enough, the tears started flowing. From Davidlee. As he spoke of the reception the film has gotten here, he just lost it. As it turns out, it is based on his true life story, at least to some degree, and it is all very personal. The movie is about a broken family, broken 30 or so years before when the husband/father left with the son/brother and left behind his three daughters and his wife. When the mother (the great Tyne Daly) becomes ill, she asks her eldest daughter (played with tough tenderness by Ally Sheedy) to find her long lost brother. As it turns out, the brother (Davidlee Willson) is at Harvard and about to be married when his sisters come into his life and turn his world upside down. This is a deeply flawed movie, starting with Mr. Willson being a bit over his head amongst such strong acting talent, but the performances are so intense and real that you feel what these people feel, even if all the pieces don't fit together perfectly.

I followed this up with an interview with the cast. We huddled in one of the bedrooms of the DDA suites and just talked. As much was off the record as on (look for the transcript next week), but that only added to the openness of what was meant for publication. It was kind of like walking into the last hours of a reunion of people who hadn't seen each other for a while, but who really loved each other. I was the outsider, but I got to warm my hands on the glow. That was, of course, followed by two consecutive blown interview appointments, but I'll tell you a secret. (Guilt-ridden publicists please stop reading now.) I was happy that they fell though. I have been so exhausted that trying to do interviews that don't feel like the same old interviews seems like too much to achieve.

As it turned out, I went to the awards ceremony from the festival HQ where all this, good and bad, took place. I got a good seat up front and waited for the show to start for over an hour. Geez, people got worried that it would never begin. But then again, this was an opportunity for actors, directors, writers and others involved with the festival to mingle some more. And that may be the best part of Sundance for many of them.

The awards themselves turned out to be, in a large way, a return to Vietnam. Of the 15 major awards (with all due respect), five went to two movies shot in Vietnam. They are among the first films ever to be able to say that. The first was Tony Bui's Three Seasons, which I criticized on Day Nine and about which I have mixed feelings. It's not a terrible movie. It's quite nice. But if it wasn't set in Vietnam, no one would give it a second look. Other films have and will continue to tell each of their stories in the film more effectively. The cinematography was beautiful and that was the award most people expected the film to grab. (And it did win.) In fact, that choice was the most consistently agreed on. That said, was it the best film in competition at the festival? No. Probably in the top five (It won the Grand Jury Prize for a Drama.) Was it the most popular film at the festival? Not according to anyone I know or any buzz I heard (It won the Audience Award). It was often mentioned as one of the good movies, but almost never as the best. But maybe I'm on odd buses. It was the first feature in the history of the festival to win the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award. Look for it from October Films.

The other multiple award winner was Regret to Inform, the story of how the Vietnamese War affected women who lost their husbands on both sides of the conflict. I didn't see the film until Sunday, but I was impressed by the beauty (it won for cinematography in a documentary), the honesty of the subjects and the pain that is so often overlooked as we try to think globally. The second award the film received was for the director, Barbara Sonneborn. Watching Mrs. Sonneborn in Q&A after the movie, you can see the tough lady that managed to get this film made over a five-year period. You can also see her heart. The movie was inspired by the loss of her husband to the "conflict" when she was only 24. But she brings the stories of many women, American and Vietnamese, to light. A beautiful movie.

But what's up with this? Could it just be a coincidence? I don't think so. I think that the age of the people on these juries puts them right at the age which would make Vietnam one of the most important events of their lives. I'm a little young to qualify for that emotional attachment (I'm 34), but I think that's what it was. The other unusual coincidence was far more comforting to me. The two cinematographers to win awards were both women (Lisa Rinzler of Three Seasons and Emiko Omori, who DPed both Regret to Inform and Rabbit in the Moon.) The strides that women have made in that arena were emphasized by having the award presented by Maryse Alberti, the great cinematographer who delivered Happiness and Velvet Goldmine this year.

I was thrilled by awards for movies that I have fallen in love with here at the festival. The Grand Jury Prize for Documentary went to American Movie, the great, funny film by Chris Smith, one desperate filmmaker in Wisconsin. The Filmmakers Trophy for a drama went to Tumbleweeds, the lovely, small mother and daughter story from director Gavin O'Connor. The World Cinema Audience Award for drama went to Run Lola Run, a film they are already in the process of remaking for America and don't need to. It's not a film about language. And the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award for drama (shouldn't it be Waldo Pepper considering our host?) went to Audrey Wells for Guinevere. And there was some sort of Special Jury Award for On the Ropes and directors Nanette Burstein and Brett Morgan, but they left it off the press release, so I don't know what to call it.

That Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award was shared by Frank Whaley, who wrote, directed and acted in Joe the King, a film I've discussed before, but never have had the opportunity to finish watching. I give the actors a lot of credit for winning Whaley this award, though he may have a bright future as a writer/director. Of far greater question to me is the dramatic directing award for Judy Berlin's Eric Mendelsohn. I am told that Mendelsohn is a great, great guy. But he is not a great, great director. He did get great performances from his cast, but most great actors' directors are called that because they let their actors work. My problem was his use of his camera. I saw little promise there. And unlike someone like, say, Todd Solondz, who really does nothing with his camera, Mendelsohn loves gimmicks. I wish I could concur with the jury. I'd much rather have seen a special award for the performances of Edie Falco or Madeline Kahn or Barbara Barrie than this. Of course, that would open up a can of worms, demanding recognition for Tumbleweeds' Janet McTeer and Kimberly Brown, the women of The Autumn Heart, Sarah Polley in Guinevere and (I am told) Lili Taylor in A Slipping Down Life.

I also have some doubts about the Filmmaker's Trophy for documentary going to Sing Faster: The Stagehands' Ring Cycle. It is an interesting movie for about 20 minutes. Then, we get the joke. I would have preferred that this award had gone to On the Ropes and that there be no special jury prize. The truth is, no matter how many times people on stage say "this was a great year for documentaries," this was a crappy year for documentaries at this festival. They were almost all lukewarm, including to some degree, On the Ropes, but in a tough room, you make tough decisions.

There was a special award for Steve Zahn's comedic performances in Happy, Texas that brought cheers (and a jeer from the director who explained that he was accepting for Steve because Sundance hadn't allotted the film enough tickets for Zahn to attend). There was also a "Special Jury Prize for Distinctive Vision in Filmmaking" to Scott King, whose Treasure Island was probably the most hated film of the festival going away. Every time you heard, "I just saw the worst piece of sh--," all you had to do was smile and say, "Oh, Treasure Island," and you got a smirk and a "How did you know?" We know. We all know.

Finally, there were awards for films that I didn't get to see. The ones I've heard good buzz about: Santitos (Latin American Jury), Genghis Blues (Audience Award: Documentary) and Train of Life (World Cinema Audience Award: Documentary). The films I heard almost nothing about were The Black Press: Soldiers Without Swords (Freedom of Expression Award) and Life Is to Whistle (Special Jury Award in Latin American Cinema). The films that I didn't see but copped awards with bad buzz were non-existent. Thank God. (Check out lots of photos from the ceremony in the Sundance Gallery.)

A party followed the ceremony and after seeing the cash bar and the cold cuts, I took my exhausted self back to the hotel. Do you know that you can't get room service at my hotel after 9:00 p.m.? That the restaurant closes at 10? I didn't. So I went back to the party and ate cold cuts and paid $4 for a drink. And I sat there so exhausted that I couldn't get up to leave. That was, until Ms. Sheedy got me to dance. But that's another column (like it or not). I'll go into more detail in next week's Sundance wrap-up in Working Hollywood, but for those of you who are keeping score, here is a list of major films that on last check, were still looking for distribution: The Autumn Heart, The Hi-Line, The Item, Joe the King, Judy Berlin, The Minus Man, Roberta, Side Streets, A Slipping Down Life, Treasure Island, Valerie Flake and The War Zone.

Today, Park City was a ghost town. By the time I got to Main Street, all the shopkeepers had removed all the movie posters and stuff from their posts and windows. The wind swept up and down the street without mercy. The smiles on that street were the weak smiles of the hospitalized. And, in what seemed like an instant, Sundance was over. Movies were still screening (all the award winners), but the blood had left the bodies. People who had unconsciously fought off colds for 10 days or more were suddenly in need of tissue. Energetic volunteers stopped paying too much attention to who was coming or going or bringing in refreshments to "no refreshments" screening rooms.

I watched the Super Bowl where I watched the Super Bowl the last time I was here. At Harry O's in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the middle of the dance floor. The ghosts of days to come sat in front of me, wearing suits and ties to a Park City bar on Super Bowl Sunday. I can't wait to get back to L.A. (Ha!) You may remember that my first Park City meal was at Texas Red's, my regular hang-out from my last Sundance. The circle was closed. I like that kind of thing. It started snowing around 8 p.m., laying down a new coat of white on streets that have been barren for days. It was beautiful. But it was the start of someone else's Park City adventure. Mine was over. At least until next year.

Thanks to Sundance for having me, to Lisa Mogull of Yahoo! for making sure that the chats went smoothly, to Scot Safon, Rebecca Reynolds and Cindy Campbell for deciding that the trip was worth the expense and most especially to the roughcut.com staff, from editor-in-chief, Andy Jones, and my Sundance point-man, Graham Verdon, to everyone else who stayed up late for all the chats, rushed the daily column up each day and allowed me to do my thing out here without worry. What more could I ask for? And to all of you who came to visit each day, I am honored. Thanks, thanks, thanks to all of you.

E ME: Keep the cards and letters coming.