Sundance - Day One

And so, it begins.

The ten days that define the annual generation of independent film. Sure, there are indies made and released with no Sundance connection. (And no, I'm not talking about the Miramax slate, which has become independent in name only.) The reality of the business of art is that distribution is as hard to come by as ever and that a Sundance pedigree is as valuable as a name actor willing to work for scale. And still, the majority of what appears at the festival, even some of the best films, never turn up on non-Sundance Channel cable, much less on movie screens where people pay for tickets one at a time.

So for all the business that is trying to be transacted…for all the career building that takes root in the snow…for all the hypertensive precociousness, there is still magic to be found in them darn hills. A great movie that never generates the first million dollars will likely last longer for you than any of the big bucks buzz films. Besides, searching for the hot film that's going to burn down the box office is a fool's errand. There was buzz around Blair Witch last year, but keep in mind that the deal Artisan made was tiny compared to Miramax's Happy, Texas purchase and yet, Miramax bowed out. And that cautious deal cost Artisan millions and made the filmmakers rich beyond any rationale.

In fact, Blair Witch will probably generate nearly as many dollars as all the other films that arrived at Sundance looking for and finding distribution combined. But was The Blair Witch Project the best film at Sundance 1999? Not by a long shot. And the other sure-fire box office hits at Sundance '99? Nothing, business-wise. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels…Happy, Texas…Three Seasons... Guinevere... Tumbleweeds... Joe the King. In fact, one "hot" '99 film, The Hi-Line, just got distribution this week from a tiny distributor. Judy Berlin, which won awards last year (though I was not a fan), is finally due out in April, but almost exclusively because of Edie Falco's newfound celebrity from "The Sopranos." Autumn Heart, The Item, Roberta, Side Streets, Treasure Island and Valerie Flake are all still floating out there.

And so, my effort for audaciousness is simple. I say, "Enjoy the movies!" Heresy indeed. But as I make the annual indie cycle from Sundance to Telluride to Toronto, all my stories of angst come from deadlines and deal talk, and all my memories of joy come from the movies and the civilians who love them.

Of course, the festival starts in videotape and on screens in L.A. and New York weeks before anyone actually arrives in Park City in their brand new Prada snow boots. And unfortunately, the taste in my mouth is already stale. Because of my trips to Maui and Chicago (put them together and you get Park City), I only caught two preview screenings. Both were estrogen-laden, which I quite enjoy. Unfortunately, neither film lived up to its promise.


The Movies And Some News

First, I saw The Virgin Suicides. And I must admit, it scares the excrement out of me to write about it. What kind of idiot wants to be negative about the work of The Godfather's daughter? Not only do I revere Francis Ford Coppola, the girl has more important friends than the guy who sneaks the joints into the White House. This is a young woman's first film and yet, it's loaded to the brim with major league talent. And honestly, I think Sofia Coppola's work as a director probably suffered from her advantages. Not many first-timers have an Ed Lachman to shoot their film. But while that worked out great for the retro-imagery, when it came to the simple shots, Ms. Coppola could have used a DP who would have helped her more with the visual language, not one whose documentarian background indulges absolute visual freedom. Likewise, though James Woods and Kathleen Turner give solid performances, access to Danny DeVito and Scott Glenn for cameos ends up being just plain distracting, as neither is given anything to do except to wear surprising costumes (DeVito with funny hair and Glenn as a priest). Michael Pare has the guts to send up his image as a thick aging stud, but even his daring is not exploited to any effect greater than the initial shock of seeing him there and hearing him talk as though he was going on about Diane Lane.

Kirsten Dunst and Josh Hartnett, the real stars of the film, give fine performances (his best yet), but neither character is allowed to offer any depth of insight. And as with so much of the movie, their actions are so often unmotivated and unreal, it's hard to ever care what happens to them. Without giving anything much away, I'll just say that if you can and do successfully escape life's restraints, how can life's restraints be your undoing? If you can be free and yet still choose to remain in your jail, as an audience member, I need to know why.

The failure of the film to answer the very questions it seems to ask sent me searching for a copy of the novel all over Los Angeles, from Santa Monica to Glendale, though I never found a copy. Apparently, a reprint is on the way to bookstores. (I found a used copy on the Web, which is on the way.) Part of why I wanted to read the book is because these kids are my age... this is my generation…my music. I should have loved this movie. And add to the consideration that as a member of the age group of the kids in the film, I knew about Watergate, Vietnam and other major events that shaped the era and never once appear to be part of this film. There is an early '70s graduation ceremony that is war protest free…what is up with that? The movie tells you about the title suicides right up front, so I'm not spoiling anything, but my guess is that the ennui of these girls was probably intended to speak to the world in which they grew up and not just the agony of being confined to their perky pink bedrooms. I'll let you know when the book arrives.

One thing is clear. Even if I didn't like it, this is a true Sundance movie, warts and all. The trouble is, it's also the kind of film that defines one of the kinds of problematic Sundance films. In this case, it's the "If It Doesn't Make Sense, It Must Be Art" phenomena.

Another form of Sundance myopia is the "If We Developed It In The Lab, How Could It Suck?" syndrome. That's what you get in Things You Can Tell Just by Looking at Her, which I still think needs to be re-titled "Things You Can Tell Just By Being In Denver While You're Dead." The film, birthed at the Sundance Labs ("It's alive…alive!"), gives an outlet to more great female star actresses than you can shake a…well, then you can shake anything at. Cameron Diaz, Holly Hunter, Glenn Close, Amy Brenneman and Kathy Baker can light it up with the best of them.

But basically, this is an episodic, telling the painful stories of a number of women and trying to tie them together at the end…unsuccessfully. (Perhaps a better alternate title would be "If These Walls Could Bore.") Another great Sundance stereotype…great acting in scenes that are written as nothing but acting exercises. The last chapter, with Cameron Diaz as a blind brunette and with Amy Brenneman as her sister, comes the closest to really going somewhere. Which sister is really handicapped? It almost salvaged the experience of seeing this movie…almost. Perhaps the most shocking thing in the movie is the work of cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, who I consider one of the most talented DPs working today. You know the kind of brown hazy top 20 percent of the frame that tends to show up in beauty shots in Tony Scott movies? It's here in interiors and it actually comes and goes during scenes and cuts off some actors' heads? There must be some kind of story behind that.

AND A TOUCH OF NEWS: Disney's primary business these days seems to be coming up with new ways of generating cash flow, thus calming the stock market perception of the company as slightly over-the-hill and out-of-control because of Michael Eisner's excess of control. And so, what's the latest greatest scheme? A Frequent Customer program that is intended to reach from the company's movies to their theme parks to their licensed toys to its TV nets, broadcast and cable. Cool. I suspect it will be successful and I therefore expect that AOL/Time-Warner, Viacom, News Corp and Sony will follow suit before much longer. Cooler. I actually prefer this idea to airline miles because it seems like a little less quid pro quo. I'm going to go to Disney movies anyway, but if I go to a lot, I'd like to be recognized as an important part of the family. And I suspect that if you are reading this column, you too are a big contributor to the bottom line. In fact, as a Web-savvy movie lover, I suspect that tracking your expenditures will prove your value to these companies and act as another bridge to full web integration. Huzzah!

READER OF THE DAY: The flood of e-mail on the Kevin Smith rant was a real delight to read. Unfortunately, I only have room for one and so, here's a name I haven't seen much before, The D.T.: "Thanks for posting both Michael Moore's and Kevin Smith's statements and adding your own vented rage. I gave up on chat boards years ago -- saber toothed moths are attracted to those flames (or maybe that's "flame throwing saber toothed moths" attacking the porch-light of public opinion). A friend of mine always says, 'Opinions are like a**holes -- everybody's got one.' Sometimes, when people trash others the way Kevin, Michael and you have been trashed, the two become indistinguishable."

And Swampy wanted a correction of yesterday's ROTD: "Perhaps you just haven't gotten to it, but I felt you should have corrected Bri from Chi's misinformed history of American Psycho. Should the film turn out a critical and/or public pleaser, it will undoubtably owe much to the director sticking with her original choice of Bale -- even when it threatened her job on the picture -- instead of wetting her pants at the thought of having "the Leo" in her film to provide a financial near-guarantee (not to mention that, just as in the tuxedo scene from Titanic, Leo would simply look like a little boy playing dress-up in Armani instead of like a young man like Bale.) Hey, there's an idea for a rant -- where did MEN of Hollywood go versus all these little boys?"

And Knockout writes: "Hey, didn't know if you stumbled upon Ebert's Web page or not, but he defends D.W. Griffith's masterpiece Birth of a Nation in his Movie Answer Man column. I am not a racist but will people please stop referring to this film as KKK propaganda? I just don't see that in it. Maybe I need another viewing of it, or maybe not, but I really like what Ebert has to say in reply to this man's question. Also, someone suggested that Thandie Newton or maybe another black actress play Clarise in the new film Hannibal. I would love to see the role played differently. I think it's a good idea."

---

E ME: About the films I wrote about today... could it just be a chick thing? Is there such a thing?

Click for more Sundance coverage!