Back From Sundance: A Wrap-Up

It's been a long time since I posted a post at this place where I used to post a whole lot. Now I'm too busy posting at Hammer to Nail to post here. Shame on me. This is the posting place that won me my first four Pulitzers, how dare I turn my back on it just because I'm now flying in airplanes while wearing colorful sweatsuits and drinking alcoholic chocolate out of platinum chalices? Just because I have used my fingers to pole-vault into a whole new dimension, how dare I shun the mother that bore me? And so I will try my gol'darnedest to keep up a steady routine over here as well.

First up, I suppose, is Sundance. Now that I'm back in the comfort of my lovely, lovely home, and have had a few nights of decent sleep, the cream has begun to rise to the top. Here, in order of first-to-pop-into-my-head-and-on-down-the-line, are my most lasting Park City '08 memories...

— Burma VJ (This very well might be the only film that wowed me from beginning to end without an even minor quibble.)

— Mo'Nique's performance in Push: Based on the novel by Sapphire (I'm putting this performance on par with Maria Falconetti's in The Passion of Joan of Arc. Granted, they are very different feats of acting, but their impact is similar. They both left me feeling physically stunned.)

— Out of Our Minds (In only 28 minutes, the spectacle of this film toppled almost all of the features I saw in Park City combined. And it was a solar-powered production to boot!)

— Old Partner (This just might be my favorite cinematic love triangle ever, between an old South Korean farmer, his decrepit ox, and his nagging wife.)

— Stella Schnabel in You Won't Miss Me (Schnabel has a fascinating presence and energy. Watching her Shelly Brown in action is like gawking at a mesmerizing train wreck.)

— The name song in Stingray Sam (I think it was the third episode when Cory McAbee unleashes a hilarious montage combining men's names—"Billy and Rob had a son named Bob!", etc.—that I wished would never end.)

— Sharon Lockhart's Lunch Break (An 80-minute slow-motion dolly through the longest warehouse ever? Yes, please! One of the more exciting moments of the festival for me was wondering what that one worker was doing up there in the distance, only to discover that he was waiting for his microwave popcorn to finish popping. I pumped my fists in the air at that exciting revelation!)

— Big River Man (John Maringouin delivers a tale worthy of Herzog with this darkly humorous portrait of Martin Strell, who swims down the Amazon River even as his brain enters the Fourth Dimension.)

— Lil' Wayne in The Carter (Adam Bhala Lough delivers with this glimpse into the syrup-glazed mind of Lil' Wayne. One of my favorite moments is when Wayne explains to someone what his ESPN logo tattoo stands for: "You know what my shit mean, right? Entertainment... Sports... Network.")

— Humpday (I am clamoring to see Lynn Shelton's film again because I think it's an incredibly intelligent interpretation of a formulaic Hollywood comedy. And I think the character growth of Joshua Leonard is especially original.)

— Rough Aunties (Could everyone stop sodomizing children, please? Even for like one week? Maybe two???)

— World's Greatest Dad (I stand behind what Bobcat Goldthwait is doing. He is carving a niche as someone who is producing genuinely subversive riffs on the Hollywood formula. Some might say he's playing so closely by the rules that he's still guilty of the crime, but I think he's having his cake and eating it too.)

— Children of Invention (Tze Chun shows a care, craft, and tenderness that really inspired me.)

— The Messenger (Oren Moverman's directorial debut shows that he doesn't just have chops as a writer. That said, his script for this film goes places where most Iraq-themed films wouldn't dare to go. And not in crushingly dramatic places. I'm talking about believable, honest ones.)

— Everything Strange and New (Frazer Bradshaw's off-kilter drama was an especially nice antidote to all of the broad stroke naturalism I'd been bombarded with all week. And not that it's the reason to see the film, but there's a scene here that takes Humpday to that next level!)

— Don't Let Me Drown (I can never get enough of movies where high school kids look and sound like actual teenagers. This film gets that concept all the way right.)

— Johnny Mad Dog (It's pretty much impossible to deny the power of this film, even if the question of purpose will be hotly debated. Some of the most powerful filmmaking I saw all week.)

— Five Minutes of Heaven (This is one of the best displays of direction in Park City. Exemplary filmmaking across the board.)

— Tyson (Mike Tyson talking for ninety minutes. It's hard to fuck that up.)

And, lastly...

— Once More With Feeling (If this film cost more than 400,000 dollars, someone needs to be decapitated. No, I'm not kidding. Blade. Head. Goodbye. Or at least leave the business, please. This wasn't just the worst film I saw last week. Before it had ended, it had catapulted itself into the upper tiers of my All-Time Worst list. The only people I'm excusing here are the actors, because I felt so sorry for them. I'm not even picking on the Sundance programmers here. How could the filmmakers actually present this to an audience and not feel complete and utter shame?

That is all for now. I promise to be back sooner than later with another meaty-ish post.