Sunday, January 18, 2009

I had a beautiful morning drive up Provo Canyon to the Sundance Resort Screening Room for another 10am-2pm box office volunteer shift. The first film shown was Barking Water, which people seemed to like but made them cry. I received hands-on box office training while the film was showing, though the process was slowed due to the fact that the festival’s internet connection wasn’t working. I learned that the Sundance Resort, because it’s away from the festival hub of Park City, doesn’t receive as much support as you’d think it would.

Don’t worry, nobody’s bitter about it or anything. Until the snacks run out, that is.

The 3:00 film, It Might Get Loud, was sold out, so I stuck around and helped (wo)man the long line of people on the wait list. It turns out that I like schmoozing with people who are anxiously waiting to try to get tickets to a film they really want to see!

There were three girls in their early twenties at the front of the line who had their own band and were DYING to get in. There was a good chance that they would get in, but the late-middle aged group who were Nos. 38-41 didn’t have much of a chance. They kept trying to sweet talk me into telling them if they had a chance, and the gray-haired man complimented me on my “diplomatically dodging the question” skills. Then he told his wife to tell me about meeting Robert Redford. She turned to me with a huge smile, her twinkling eyes somehow matching the shade of her bright turquoise pea coat, and gushed about her encounter with him as he was coming off the ski slope. “He took his hat off and his hair was messy and sweaty—*pant, pant*—and he was just so nice! He gave me a hug and I could tell definitely feel his yoga body from the squeeze he gave me!”

She could have been a preteen talking about meeting one of the guys in High School Musical. I wonder if she has tear-out posters of Robert Redford from “Tiger Beat—Baby Boomer Edition” hanging on her wall at home.

The girls in the band ended up getting in to see the film, but most of the people from the wait list were turned away. I went up to the projection room to ask John the Projectionist if I could watch from there, but the film had already started and he wasn’t there. The door had been open, so I was standing at the top of the half-stairway trying to see if he was behind some equipment when he walked in behind me and about flipped his lid.

“You can’t be in here without permission!” he said in a strong whisper.

“But I came up to ask you—I mean, sorry—” I stammered. It took a minute, but we cleared things up and he said it wasn’t a problem, he just didn’t want people up there without his permission because if they touched just one thing, you know, it could stop the film and maybe he would lose his job and puppies would die and maybe the world would implode. Or something like that.

Monday, January 19, 2009

I thought I was going to have to switch my shift because of a conflict with my class schedule, but somehow the news got to Utah Valley University that it was Martin Luther King Day and I didn’t have classes. (Some of my former coworkers were only vaguely familiar with what they called “Civil Rights Day” and nobody seemed to care about its significance. If Utahns were a flavor, they would be Sheltered Vanilla.)

So, another 10-2 shift. The film at noon was Taking Chance, a documentary that follows the treatment and events surrounding the homecoming of a soldier’s body after he was killed in Iraq. I wasn’t able to watch it, but filmgoers reported that it was a powerful story whether one supports the war or not.

One of my fellow volunteers reported that a woman started sobbing at the very beginning, right after the opening scene of the soldier’s death, and ran out the emergency exit. The volunteer followed her out to make sure she was okay. She was NOT okay, though, because she had recently lost her son in Iraq. We didn’t understand why she would put herself in the traumatic situation of watching that movie in the first place.

During my volunteer hours when I was outside of the theater doing box office type thingies, I was also getting to know my fellow volunteers. Some were first-years and others had been festival volunteers at the Sundance Resort Screening Room for years. It was an interesting mix, and getting to know fellow volunteers is one of the things I enjoy most about the festival. It’s also a good way to collect some new local friends with whom I can potentially hang out with during the rest of the year.

I cashed in a volunteer voucher for the opportunity to sit in the audience for the next film, Humpday. It contained enough “beyond gay” moments to make many people uncomfortable, but it was not pr0n. And it won a special jury prize for “Spirit of Independence.”

Though I thought it was pretty good and definitely hilarious at times, it lost a little of its luster for me after the Q & A. The director (and cameo actress) Lynn Shelton revealed that she didn’t have a script—and that the movie was shot sequentially with some loose ideas surrounding the central characters, but it was all improv. Now I love improv, and I think it’s great that that’s how they made the film, but for some reason it just irritated me that she was up there hosting a Q & A when most of the answers were “it just turned out that way.”

I was starving after Humpday, so I hightailed it home for dinner and to do some homework. I pulled off the road on my way home to take a photo of the pretty sunset at the base of Provo Canyon.

On the plus side, it makes early morning drives very pretty because of all the frost that collects on the trees. The frost disappears mid-morning, leaving the trees a drab winter brown—but then the frost reappears again overnight. It’s fabulously magical and makes it easier to get up on cold winter mornings.

Friday morning, after attending classes from 8-10am, I started driving up Provo Canyon into the mountains. I forgot to bring my camera, which is a shame because it was a beautiful day.

As much fun as I had volunteering at the awesome Sundance venue of Egyptian Theatre in Park City last year, I requested shifts at the Sundance Resort this year because it’s a much closer drive. It’s turning out to be a dramatically different festival experience than last year.

The environment itself is extraordinarily low-key. Unlike the Egyptian, which is smack dab in the middle of the busy festival on Main Street in Park City, the Sundance Resort is 45 minutes away from Park City and offers only one theater. A path starts at the base of the mountain, where skiiers and snowboarders line up for the chairlift, and winds past rustic and unadorned resort buildings, outdoor art globes that encourage environmental responsibility, and an in-ground fire pit with benches all around. The wood smoke drifting through the cold, mountain air adds a distinct aroma to the mountain resort ambiance. Bridges cross over a cold, rushing creek, and wooden signposts direct pedestrians at forks in the path. The Screening Room, as it’s aptly called, is a golden-hued wood building nestled among, and mostly obscured by, tall trees.

I walked up the well-worn wooden steps and into the lobby at 10:45am, where I was greeted by a flurry of staff members and volunteers preparing for the kick-off of the first film. Though Park City venues screen five or six films a day during the festival, from 8:30am until after midnight, Sundance screens only four films a day at set times: noon, 3:00pm, 6:00pm, and 9:00pm. I introduced myself to new faces and re-introduced myself to the people I met at the prior week’s training session, picked up my volunteer uniform, then dove right in to on-the-job box office training. Having worked at the front desk of a hotel for four years, the job itself was not a big deal.

People relaxed a little after the first film (Carmo, Hit the Road) started, and that’s when I was able to get to know some of them a little more. It’s exciting to discover new people who live in Utah County, appreciate independent film, and who are not only nice but also swear, watch R-rated movies, and drink wine. As most imports to the heavily Mormon-influenced world of Utah County will tell you, it can be a very difficult and isolating place to live if you are not Part Of The Culture. Hell, I have Mormon friends who grew up elsewhere who agree that it’s a wacked-up place to live. Anyway, it’s just nice to meet new people and not have to dance around Who I Really Am.

The director of the first film, Murilo Pasta, walked into the lobby about halfway through its screening. He gave a big hug and Brazilian besos (kisses on each cheek) to Bonnie, the theater manager, and then came over to the volunteer table and greeted the few of us with warm handshakes and “It’s nice to meet you, [each name here].” Most of the directors I saw last year barely even gave the theater manager the time of day, but Mr. Pasta (tee hee) was obviously a different brand of director. Of course he’s Brazilian, so that may have had something to do with it.

He held a Q&A session with audience after the film, and schmoozed with filmgoers in the lobby afterwards. The “box office” where I was stationed was basically a table by the entrance to the theater, so I had a front row seat to it all. The job is pretty easy—besides taking money and doing some paperwork, I just stood there looking official and answered questions as people asked them.

I had a short shift and was able to stay to watch the 3:00 film, Corazón del Tiempo (“Heart of Time”). Some parts were difficult for me to follow because I’m not familiar at all with the political situation or the Zapatista revolution of rural Chiapas, Mexico, but otherwise I enjoyed it. The rural setting was beautiful and the depiction of the tight-knit community very compelling, but I really loved the relationship between the sun-wrinkled, toothless grandmother and her preteen granddaughter.

I went home after the film and the rest of my night was kind of boring and filled with falling asleep on the couch. I had planned to go up to Park City today, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen since I have a lot to do otherwise. I’ll share more exciting Sundance events as they occur—my next shift is tomorrow morning.

Last week I went up there for training and orientation. I’d never visited the Screening Room before, but despite a major lack of signage, it wasn’t too hard to find. It’s a decently sized (but still cozy) theater with under 200 seats. I took the brief tour that was offered, and learned where Robert Redford sits if he chooses to visit. There’s actually a small section of seats that are reserved for “Mr. Redford or any of the Redfords,” so I guess the whole fam gets benefits. Makes sense.

A few minutes later, the group of volunteers was standing in the lobby listening to the theater manager’s spiel. Suddenly, there was a huge noise like what I imagine a pipe bomb sounds like when it goes off, immediately followed by the whole side of the building shaking and threatening to collapse and crush us all. I jumped with the crowd and moved away quickly from the shit-I’m-going-to-die area. Then an avalanche of snow tumbled over the side of the roof (which was visible because that side of the building is all glass or plexiglass) and landed with a muffled *slam* on the ground.

It was just snow. But if anyone had been standing in the particular area at that time, they would probably have needed some medical care. Yikes.

Back to the tour! I also learned that Glenn Close is on the board of directors and attends the festival every year, so the fact that I took her ticket last year at the Egyptian was not really that big of a deal since the odds were pretty good. I never finished the blog entry about that, but I pledge to be a better festival blogger this year.

You can get more juicy, up-to-the-minute Sundance blather on my Twitter feed that I’ll be updating from my phone.

The theater tour also included a brief visit to the projection room, where John the Projectionist told us that it was a very rare projection room because it actually contained equipment to show every type of film from 8mm to high-end digital (including 3D). I was impressed. Granted, I’ve had little exposure to projection rooms since high school. I asked John if I could snap a couple of photos, and he was even nice enough to pose for one!

Here’s one of the older projectors (there were three), with some artfully placed filmstrips. The tour had already moved on, so I didn’t have time to worry about photo composition.

And here’s the new Sony digital projector that sits front and center. The heavenly halo and singing angels surrounding it didn’t come out very well in the photo, so you’ll just have to imagine them.

And then after the tour I went home. I will take more photos and maybe I’ll even find a way to share some of them. I’ll be heading back to Sundance tomorrow morning immediately after my two morning classes, so watch that Twitter feed to find out if I’m caught in any Roof Avalanches. Though I’m guessing that I have a better chance of seeing Glenn Close again.