Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

I can’t believe I forgot to mention the coolest thing about my last 2010 Sundance volunteer day! I twittered on Saturday that Karen Allen had just walked out of the Screening Room. I didn’t get a great look at her, but figured that would be the closest I would ever come to her. NOT TRUE!

Sunday morning, Karen Allen was in the lobby again. Yes, Marion from the Indiana Jones movies was a few feet away from me. She and a (her?) casting agent didn’t have a ticket to see The Extra Man, so they needed to buy them from me (well, technically from the box office). I didn’t let her buy one, though. Because I volunteered a bunch for the Sundance Institute over the summer, I had been given a few guest vouchers that could be exchanged for waitlist tickets… so I refused the $20 she held out to me and told her that I would like to buy her ticket for her. As a volunteer, I’m expected to control my fangirl-gushings, so I didn’t tell her how happy I was to meet her or she was in some of my favorite movies as a kid—the Indiana Jones trilogy, of course, but also Scrooged.

I handed her the voucher from my badge pcket, which I then needed to take back (LIKE A BIG IDIOT) so I could give her the ticket that would actually get her into the theater. She was somewhat quiet, but smiled and said thank you. She looked exactly like she did in the fourth Indiana Jones movie (even though I’m still trying to forget that ever happened). I wish that I had been able to chat with her a little, but the lobby was busy and she was shuffled into the theater as soon as she got her ticket. I saw her again in the crowd on her way out. I regret not asking for a photo with her.

And finally, I don’t know what Robert Redford has against me—or who is conspiring to keep him away from me. He attended a screening at the resort on the first Saturday night and in unprecedented fashion, was there early and even stood to ask a question in the Q&A afterward. Where was I? Park City. He came by the second Saturday night shortly after I’d gone home. He stopped by the Sundance Screening room while I was there on Sunday—but I was inside the theater and nobody came to get me. I mean, really. There was also a near-miss this past summer. I’m sick of hearing other people’s “Bob” stories! I want my own!

I’ve been helping out with Sundance Institute functions at the resort enough this year to think that my chances of actually seeing him—let alone meeting him—are pretty good. But it seems as though, in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern metaphor, my Robert Redford coin keeps landing on heads when I’m betting on tails.

I could also pull in a Hitchhiker’s Guide reference while I’m at it.

Life, as many people have spotted, is, of course, terribly unfair. For instance, the first time the Heart of Gold ever crossed the galaxy the massive improbability field it generated caused two-hundred-and-thirty-nine thousand lightly-fried eggs to materialise in a large, wobbly heap on the famine-struck land of Poghril in the Pansel system. The whole Poghril tribe had just died out from famine, except for one man who died of cholesterol-poisoning some weeks later.

Terribly unfair. Yeah.

Saturday morning, the first film at the Sundance Screening Room was Sympathy for Delicious. I didn’t get to see much of it because I was finally doing box office stuff. But two of the principal cast members, Chris Thornton and Mark Ruffalo (who is also the director), were there early and were happy to talk with people in the lobby. I thought that was cool. Also, they were both quite handsome.

For the day’s second film, Grown Up Movie Star, the director, producer, and lead character from were there. I was still on box office and also took my lunch break. The “winter chicken salad” from the Sundance deli was amazing. Expensive, of course, because it’s a resort. But still. Yum.

My shift ended right before the 6pm film, Abel, a Mexican film was in Spanish with English subtitles for which I was able to finally use my volunteer credentials to exchange for a seat in the audience. I loved it. Though I relied on the subtitles, it was cool to work the dusty part of my brain that holds my Spanish language skills. The film was funny, interesting, and touching. There was a dramatic point in the movie when there was no sound—and the audience was completely silent. For at least a minute, we were on the edge of our seats and all holding our breath at the same time. No coughing, not wrappers, no whispering. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that absolute silence in a theater before.

That was it for my Saturday. I was tired and not really interested in driving up to Park City for the awards after-party, tempted as I was by free food and alcohol. Lots of driving just didn’t sound appealing, especially because I needed to get up early, so I went home.

It snowed overnight which made driving to my 9am Sunday shift more exciting than I would have liked it to be. I slipped a bit on the crappy roads, but still made it in safely. I was able to sneak in to see most of The Extra Man, a quirky and more light-hearted film than is typical at Sundance. I liked it. Then I snuck into the projection room (with Chris the projectionist’s permission) to take some behind-the-scenes photos.

The second film of the day, a documentary about two brothers-in-law with Al Qaeda associations called The Oath, was also the final festival screening at the Screening Room. I saw portions of it that looked really good, but I just wasn’t in the mood for it. I spent the next couple hours (after my shift was officially over) screwing around with my fancy camera. I really need to spend more time learning about everything it can do. Some of the photos turned out well, though, and that was helped by having some willing models.

These Sundance volunteers are crazy silly, let me tell you. They didn’t get mad about me shoving my camera in their face… and that’s after the several hours they spent this past week dealing with my sarcastic shit. Good people!

See more of my Sundance photos on Flickr.

After a busy weekend with little sleep, I stayed occupied with school and other responsibilities for the next few days. Friday afternoon there was a volunteer-only free screening of Mother and Child in Salt Lake City that I was able to attend. I drove up by myself with loose plans to try for waitlist tickets to another Sundance movie or two, just because I could.

I had heard that Mother and Child was really good and would make me cry, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the emotional bitch-slap it would give me. In a good way. I’m not usually the “emotional cryer” type of theater-goer, but in my defense there were a lot of other audience members sniffling during the screening and they were also red-eyed as they walked out.  So. If you want to see a heart-achingly wonderful crier of a film, push this one to the top of your list! It has several recognizable names and faces and a somewhat twisty storyline that comes together beautifully, even if slightly predictable.

I’ve learned that predictability isn’t necessarily bad—the audience can be sure about what will ultimately happen as long as they’re intrigued about how the story will get there.

Speaking of stories, I realized after I parked at the downtown cinema that my favorite local independent bookseller, Sam Weller’s, was just a block and a half away. The movie had run too long for me to get tickets to the 6pm show I’d wanted to see, but my parking was validated so wandered over to Main Street.

As I waited to cross the street, it occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve walked alone on a city street. Shows how much I get out, I know. But it reminded me of how much I enjoy solitary time in the city—any city—now and then. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with people and exploring cities together. I just really enjoy my heightened level of observation when I’m in a busy place by myself.

And, of course, there’s the wonderful freedom of browsing this huge and eclectic bookstore without worrying about outlasting another person’s patience. I can’t help it. When I’m in a bookstore, museum, etc., I suddenly need to take in everything. Time becomes irrelevant, which (not surprisingly) can cause friction with my companions.

But look at this bookstore. It has three floors that encourage meandering and happily losing yourself in the must-laced recesses of hidden corners. It’s clean and well-organized and completely entrancing. In Utah there are no dust mites, which means that I don’t burst into a sneezing fit like I do in used bookstores elsewhere.

Since I had my camera with me, I requested permission to take photos. The owner, Tony, happened to be at the front register when I asked. He said as long as I didn’t work for Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, or the like that I was welcome to practice my bookstore-lust photography. I got a couple good ones, but I kept getting distracted by books. Go figure.

The store closed at 7, so a time limit was forced upon me. Boo! Probably for the best. I spent the bulk of my real browsing time in the American and World Folklore section (interestingly, placed right beside the large LDS/Mormon section) and went home with three new used books. I still need to enter those into LibraryThing. Not tonight, though. I have to get up early for the last day of the film festival.

In stark contrast to my gray and snowtastic Saturday, Sunday was full of fresh air and sunshine. A little gray in the morning but otherwise beautiful. Once I was caffeinated enough to appreciate it, anyway.

Enough people were skiing that day to fill the lower (and more convenient) parking lots before I arrived, so I parked for the first time in the mystical “upper lot” that I didn’t even know existed until a couple days before. No signs point toward the twisty uphill road or say what’s up there, but now I know it exists. This new adventure gave me the opportunity to ride a shuttle bus filled with snowboarders. “Duuuuuuude!”

Once I arrived at the Screening Room (that’s the entrance pictured above—sort of tucked in near the end of a winding path that leads past the base ski lift), there were already plenty of volunteers on staff. That’s a good thing for overall operation of the theater, but I was a little ticked because I would have rather slept in after that late and stressful night. They scheduled 3 people on box office when only 2 are needed—guess that builds in a little CYA in case someone no-shows.

I helped with the crowds for the first film of the day and soon after was given a completely different task. The networked phone/internet wasn’t working (HORROR) and I got the “you’re good with computers, right?” direction to be the liaison with tech support. The tech support guys would have come to fix it in person if we weren’t a 45-60 minute drive away from Park City.

(It always amuses me and catches me off guard when people think that I “know about computers.” Just because I spend all of my time dicking around online and/or being a slave to Adobe products doesn’t mean I how to fix things. I have an engineer husband for that kind of stuff! But when liaising with tech support is involved, I guess “you’re good with computers” really means that I know what a cat-5 cable is and I’m not afraid of touching Things With Blinking Lights)

The cool thing about my time with tech support was that I needed access to the router, which was located in a maintenance closet to which only the resort’s safety/security manager had a key. When I called to request that it be opened, the manager said it would be a few minutes because he had to a paparazzi issue to deal with.

Ooooooo!

When he arrived and we were walking around the back of the building, I smoothly inquired if paparazzi things had quieted down. They had. Then I asked “so is Bob on campus?” Which, in retrospect, really sounds like a geek trying to be cool and not realizing that it’s not working. Bob = Robert Redford if you’re in the know. And now you are in the know. But no, the paparazzi issue was not for him. It was for one of his friends whom I’d never heard of before.

The maintenance closet was cool not just because I had to step in a 3-foot drift of snow and over a 5-inch sheet of broken ice that had fallen from the roof to get to it. It was cool because it was behind one of those doors that people are trained not to see, hidden in plain sight, and because it was a place of power. Read more…

You may be wondering why the hell this three-part blog story is called “Park City Whiteout.” Well, this is the finale, and I promise an answer!

—

In a somewhat undramatic turn of events, we got in to see Bass Ackwards! It turns out that the theater wasn’t even full. After we were seated and waiting for the film to start, I asked a girl in front of us to take a photo of me and Marie. She did, and I returned the favor. We shared a nice conversation with her and her sister, who turned out to be 2/3 of teenage triplets from Phoenix. Their other sister stayed at home with their dad to go to a dance instead of going with their mom to Park City. Obviously we know who the cool ones are: Sydney and Giselle!

The picture of them is much cuter than the picture of me and Marie. My fault, mostly. And the lady a few rows behind us who was eating in a somewhat ungracious manner.

So finally, at 8:30pm, we were able to see a film at Sundance. Unfortunately, it was not as wonderful as we’d hoped it would be. Marie put it well when she called it self-indulgent. The director was also the co-screenwriter and the main character. He seemed like a nice enough guy during the Q & A, but still.

Though there were elements of the film that were touching and very well-done, there were also elements that dragged on and I felt should have been edited down or out. Bass Ackwards was part of the NEXT series at Sundance, which features films done on a “microbudget” by choice, not necessarily necessity. According to the producer, the microbudget was about $100,000 for them. Considering that the film involved a cross-country journey in a small 1976 Volkswagen van, that seems impressive. And the cinematography was pretty awesome.

However, there was waaaay too much screen time of Linas in a deep v-neck t-shirt. Man boobs I can handle, but Men, please note: combining them with deep v-neck t-shirts is a bad idea. Making that a prominent wardrobe choice when the audience is supposed to like the main character is a terrible idea.

And now… drum roll please… Why this 3-part blog is called Park City Whiteout.

Marie and I left the theater a little after 10pm with an interest in going home. No midnight screenings for us, partially because we’re lame like that but also because it was snowing and we knew the drive home was not going to be perfect. I called Ben, who reported that there was a pretty strong system hitting Salt Lake City and headed east into Park City. Niiiice. This is the last photo I took that night.

We caught another bus that dropped us off a quarter (maybe half?) mile or so from the damn Park & Ride we worked so hard to get into. There was an inch or two of snow on the car, but it was starting to come down a little heavier. Read more…

After our dinner-snack at Java Cow, we headed back down Main Street to catch a different bus that would take us to the Prospector Theater, where we could wait in the waitlist line for a different movie. The winter light was fading quickly and I hadn’t taken many photos yet, attributable to the crappy weather and not feeling photographically inspired, so I pulled out my camera and took a few shots on the way. Fabulous Marie was a gracious model. This is one of my favorite photos.

Technically there was one singular (sensation) celebrity sighting while we were in Park City. Technically, Marie saw him. I say Technically because as we were rushing up Main Street to see if we could still get tickets to Four Lions, Marie FAILED to hail my attention when Alan Tudyk passed us. Maybe you’ve heard of him? He’s a friend of some guy named Joss Whedon and has acted in some minor film/television productions like Firefly, Dollhouse, and V. If you’re a gamer, maybe you’d recognize his voice from Halo 3:ODST.

Yeah, so Technically she saw him. I can’t verify that, so rather than bury myself in the anguished bitterness of a lost geek celebrity sighting, I’ll just vent through my blog. Healthy choices!

Anyway.

We returned to the Old Town Transit Station, which is across the street behind Main Street and up a long staircase, to wait for the (free) bus that would take us somewhat directly to our next venue. I looked at the map myself and determined that it was a pretty direct line and we wouldn’t be on the bus for another 45 minutes. I also figured out that the volunteer who directed us to get on that first (also free) bus could have easily told us to cross the street, walk up a little way, and catch a bus that would get us to Main Street in under 15 minutes, thereby allowing plenty of time to acquire waitlist tickets for the movie we wanted to see. Grrr. In any case, we arrived at the Prospector Hotel without incident and lined up to get waitlist numbers.

The way Sundance Film Festival ticketing works is pretty clever and mildly irritating. Anyone can purchase hard tickets for $15 in advance, even on the day of the screening, until the designated allotment of tickets is sold out. Most screenings, especially on the first weekend, are sold out well in advance of the festival. There are a certain number of seats that are reserved for the director, prominent actors and/or entourage should they decide to attend. And new for this year is a small allotment of seats for volunteers who cash in their free vouchers or flash their I’m-a-hardcore-volunteer photo credentials to get in.

There is also a waitlist line for every screening. Hopeful, risk-taking people line up in a designated area near every theater and then, at exactly two hours before the screening will start, brightly colored paper numbers are handed out in the order that people lined up. People disperse. Then they reconvene in line a half hour before the screening will start. If the theater manager determines that there will be seats available, some (and occasionally all) of those waitlisters will be able to plunk down $15 cash and get a ticket on the spot.

Any pre-purchase ticketholders who are not seated by 15 minutes prior to screening time risk forfeiting their seat to someone in the waitlist. Waitlisters are processed in small groups so to give ticketholders a generous opportunity to arrive in the nick of time, but sometimes they’ve decided not to see the film or the weather (or bus system) prevented them from making it on time. It’s sad when people arrive late with hard tickets but cannot get in to the theater, but obviously Sundance’s larger goal is to fill the theater and maximize sales. They’re a non-profit organization and need every penny—which is why you’ll see rampant corporate sponsorship throughout the festival and on every official Sundance sign.

(On Sunday there was an article in Salt Lake City’s Deseret News about Sundance’s dedicated volunteer fleet. It claimed that our volunteer hours were worth over $500,000 to the festival, assuming we were paid “McDonald’s wages.”)

Right. So. We acquired numbers 50 and 51 in the waitlist line for Bass Ackwards. Even though the theater seats over 300, those were still pretty high waitlist numbers for a premiere. We headed over to the nearby Volunteer Villa (a large temporary tent behind festival headquarters at the Marriott) for a little while. It had a couple computers with internet access, board games, coffee, cookies, and a TV tuned to the Encore channel. Pretty swanky for a tent, huh?

We almost couldn’t leave because Speed was on TV and Marie wanted to know how it ended. Har har.

Stay tuned for Part 3 of this incredibly non-eventful-yet-full-of-details story!

I love this photo! Taken at dusk with a Canon Rebel on auto (‘cuz I’m fancy like that). It’s the top of the Old Town Transit Center on Main Street in Park City.

Trying to get this posted before midnight so it still counts for my 365 day challenge. I’m getting into a groove, though… I just need to get started earlier in the day to make sure that I don’t cop out with a photo and a few words when I get tired or busy. Like tonight.

I’m still in the process of uploading photos to Flickr from the last couple days. That includes weeding through the duplicates, tagging them, labeling them, etc. I didn’t take photos of even half the stuff I wanted to, partially because my camera is still new and it was snowing most of the time and I didn’t want to get water stains all over the lens. Marie had my point and shoot camera for the day and she caught some great photos as well. I still need to empty that memory card. Thanks for being patient with my procrastination.

I am home now from my second shift at the Sundance Screening Room, which was fairly uneventful. I saw two films today: Winter’s Bone and Please Give, both of which I highly recommend.

Yesterday I drove up to Park City with my friend Marie, and the day was filled with a lot of starts and stops and interesting things and disappointing things and SNOW and then a treacherous white-knuckle drive home that thankfully ended safely. I want to spend more time sharing the details of the last two days, but I am beat. I have a lot to do tomorrow so I can’t afford to skimp on the sleep tonight. My eyes are dry and heavy. My teeth are brushed. My face is washed.

What I’m trying to say is… good night! I’m sure that coffee in the morning will help me recall my weekend adventures in a much more clever and coherent way than I am able to right now.

CLEVER, can I just say that? S’no? Snow? Heh heh…

The excitement of my evening shift for the festival was dominated by the weather. It, uh, sucked. The road that leads into Sundance Canyon was closed for an hour or so shortly before I arrived because of snowfall and dangerous conditions and accidents. Hooray! It was open when I got there, but a cop stationed with flashing lights at the mouth of the canyon, right by the huge “snow tires/chains/4-wheel drive required” sign, stopped me to check. I have a little all-wheel drive Subaru (with relatively new tires, thank the flying spaghetti monster) so I was permitted to pass.

I took it slow and made it safely. The resort was blanketed in snow and totally gorgeous. Night skiing is new this year, so there were a lot of skiiers still on the mountain and clomping out in the parking lot. My cell phone reception sucked almost as much as the weather, possibly due in part to the weather, so I didn’t get to send the cell phone photos I took. But Twitpic is working, so yay for that! I did upload some photos to Flickr.

I didn’t end up watching much of either movie last night, but got to know the new volunteers and re-learned a little about people I worked with last year. I got my white volunteer jacket (which I have NOT yet dirtied), which fits for the most part.

The biggest adventure started after my shift ended at 10:30. I don’t have time to tell it in full right now because I’m supposed to meet my friend Marie and drive up to Park City in a little bit. But I didn’t get home until almost 1:30am. And it involved a little bit of this. Oooo, teaser!

Last week I got this email from the Sundance Film Festival volunteer manager that made me giddy.

Hi Yvette,

We have a need for a translator one day for two hours, to translate Norwegian, and your application indicated that this would be something you’d be willing to do.  It’s for a film screening with a group of high school students, the Director is seeking assistance for the Q & A session. If this is a skill you feel you have, I’ll send along the details, and we’ll see if it fits in your schedule, too.

My stomach flip-flopped when I read that. The application she referred to was one that I originally completed in 2007 and basically just renew every year without looking at it too closely. I’d forgotten that I put Norwegian down as a language spoken. I probably checked the box for “willing to translate” with a snicker because most Norwegians speak way better English than I speak Norwegian.

I learned Norwegian when I was an exchange student a hundred years ago and have kept it up pretty well via frequent contact with my host family over the years. (My “little sister” is coming to visit again in February, in fact.) Though I was nervous about the prospect of assisting with translation, especially in front of a theater filled with hyper-critical high school students, I said I’d do it. Even when I found out that I needed to be in Park City at 7am.

While waiting for more information, I looked up what Norwegian films were showing this year at the festival. No feature-length ones that I could find, but there are three shorts: The Fight, Little Miss Eyeflap, and Still Birds. That middle one, aka Skylappjenta, is about a Pakistani-Norwegian girl, directed by Iram Haq which is a distinctly non-Norwegian name, and its language is listed as “Norwegian/Urdu.” I guessed the director of that was a Pakistani immigrant who speaks Norwegian but wasn’t great with English.

Unfortunately, I just received the news that the director backed out of the event, so my Norwegian services are no longer needed.

Damn.

I never found out exactly which director was coming, so I’ll probably never know with which director I could have hobnobbed. On the bright side, I don’t have to leave the house at 5:30am on Wednesday.

I will be heading up to the Sundance Resort this evening to work my first box office shift. I get to pick up my volunteer coat and hope that it fits… they hadn’t received the women’s coats yet when I checked in last week. It’s mostly white, so I’m going to have to be very careful not to drink coffee, hot chocolate, or Diet Coke while I’m “in costume.” Because I will spill and/or dirty it up no matter how careful I am.

I’m going to attempt to see as much of HOWL as I can once all of my box office paperwork is done. I doubt I’ll stay late to watch Restrepo—it’s just not something I’m terribly interested in seeing.

Tomorrow morning I’m heading up to Park City with my friend Marie and who knows what we’ll end up seeing. Films, wait-list riots, celebrity nudity… I’ll be tweeting it all. And maybe trying out Twitpic to share some crappy photos. I don’t have an internet-capable phone, but I am set up to receive Twitter direct messages… so please interact away! I mean, interact toward. Me. Er, something.