Hi, it's Anne, with a few parting shots as I head back for LA. I have to admit, Monday morning felt like school for me. I was hanging out at my hotel, it was snowing outside, and I was in the mood for a lazy day in front of the fire. But down on Main Street at the Queer Lounge, attorney and good pal Jonathan Handel was doing a panel on the Writers' Strike, its causes and effects, and prospects for a solution. I wanted to show up for him. So (cue the violins) I made the coffee, got up, got out, and got myself down there. The panel was so intriguing, I was glad I did.
Onstage (from left) were Jonathan Handel, attorney and digital-media law specialist ; Writers' Guild member Howard Rodman (screenwriter of festival entry Savage Grace); and Jason Stuart, chair of the Screen Actors' Guild's LGBT committee. Jonathan and Howard sparred on the question of why the negotiations between studios and writers had been derailed for so long. Jonathan put it down in part to intense dislike between the negotiators for the two sides. Howard countered that studios and writers make deals with people they dislike all the time. (Good point!) In Howard's view, the suits have been taken aback to find that this time around, the writers weren't going to settle for business as usual. Some of the issues in contention: writers' residuals for home video that were set way back when videos cost $99 to buy and plenty to make. Now the content costs pennies to produce, the studios are getting much higher profits; but the writers' share has stayed unchanged since -- as Howard put it -- "George Michael was in WHAM." Predictions? Jonathan: "The writers will settle by Oscar night. Howard (darkly): "We'll see."
GO HBO! THE NETWORK REALLY REPRESENTS AT A LIVELY PANEL ON "WHEN I KNEW"
In a couple of hours, it was my turn to moderate a panel, on HBO's upcoming documentary "When I Knew." It's based on the charming 2005 book by director and photographer Robert Trachtenberg, which tells around 80 personal stories not of coming out, but of something that happens long before: The moment when you KNOW you're different. We can all relate about that moment; often it happens in childhood, and it's not even consciously sexual. Instead, person after person, in the book and in the doc, talks about "getting butterflies" or "a funny feeling." One of my favorite moments from the film has a handsome guy remember how he was affected by TV's Grizzly Adams. "I guess I liked bears," he says.
Robert Trachtenberg was on the Sundance panel along with World of Wonder's head honchos Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, who made the film. Rex Lee (who plays Lloyd, the long-suffering assistant in HBO's "Entourage") rounded out the group. Only at the last minute did I realize the panel would be attended by HBO vice president John Hoffman as well as Sheila Nevins, president of HBO documentary and family entertainment. Wonderful to see that HBO is so firmly supporting this project. Plus Sheila made incisive, not to mention hilarious, additions to the dialog in the room. Sorry I can't show you photos of the event itself. But take a look at this:
It's HBO's "When I Knew" video booth, one of the most popular features of the Queer Lounge. See the little camera lens on your far left?
Go behind the curtain, look at the lens, and this high-tech video booth lets you push a button and talk about When You Knew. Everybody's stories get uploaded to wheniknew.com. The booth was doing a roaring business the whole time I was at Sundance. Even better, it will tour the country this summer, so people like you and me will be sharing When We Knew for many months to come. As Randy Barbato told me, "For this film, the end is just the beginning." HBO's John Hoffman elaborated: because the "When I Knew" moment is so inoffensive, so innocent, and so universal, these anecdotes are a great opportunity to promote understanding. And the network will reach out to make sure they are seen in schools and so on. Of all the cool things HBO has done involving the gay community, this has got to rank near the top.
THE FINAL FRONTIER: THE NEW FRONTIER ON MAIN
So now it's Tuesday, and I've crammed all my sweaters into my suitcase. I have just a few minutes before my cab comes to take me to Salt Lake City and back to the day-to-day LA craziness. As always, I've Sundanced as fast as I can, but as always, I know there's something I missed. In this case, it's New Frontier on Main -- the new-media showplace located on the meandering basement floor among the various art galleries at 333 Main. Several people have raved to me about how affecting it is. Do I have time to catch it? Will I miss my cab/make my flight? I decide to chance it, anad I head for Main Street.
As I enter the seductive black labyrinth of New Frontier, digital trees wave their glowing leaves to welcome me. Everywhere there's a new interactive display or visually challenging film. There's not time to learn about them all. But with the clock ticking, I already know the one display I mustn't miss. In their own quiet room, off the main corridor are two interactive digital sculptures by Daniel Rozin: Snow Mirror (2006) and Peg Mirror (2007).
There's no describing the feeling of seeing these pieces, but here's what Rozin has to say:
"Peg Mirror comprises 650 circular wooden pieces that are cut on an angle. Casting shadows by twisting and rotating, wooden pegs forming concentric circles surround a small central camera. The mirrored image produced in this work is activated by software authored by Rozin that processes video signals and breaks up imagery geometrically, seemingly pixel by pixel."
In other words, when you approach Peg Mirror and make a gesture, it "sees" you and responds, like this:
Here's Peg Mirror as I first see it.
Now, I come closer and lift my arm. It "sees" my shoulder, and the wooden pegs swivel to mimic my shape. It's very…friendly, somehow. I'm always moved to see technology used in such human ways. But my favorite, I have to say, is Snow Mirror, housed a few feet away.
It looks at first like a pull-down home-movie screen, full of digital static, suspended in front of a black wall. That tiny black shape midscreen is the camera. As I walk closer, camera in hand, the "snowflakes" onscreen begin to rearrange, unhurriedly, as if they have their own tempo in mind. And then:
There I am, waving my arm and holding my camera high. You can see what I'm saying: "Wow!"
This ghostly image, so real but so abstract, sends a torrent of impressions through my mind. I think how quickly things disappear. I think of the ways in which Sundance has faded -- the plodding "Mysteries of Pittsburgh," presented this year as something fresh; the dazzling "Edward II," screened as something dated. But I also remember the excitement on the faces of the young filmmakers who stormed Park City this week. When they stand in front of Snow Mirror, they won't think how fleeting life is. They'll think, I can do better than this. And I know they'll find a way.
We ran up to Slamdance to pickup a couple of screeners and on our way down we stumbled across the Nintendo Wii Lounge. They were sampling their latest product, Wii Fit, a later incarnation of the Power Pad. It is a small white platform that is sensitive to the shifting of your weight. Kyle tried a game where you try to keep these balls from rolling off a platform that is moving and levitating in space. I tried to hoola hoop, but you can downhill ski, and even yoga. It may have been the most fun we have had all week.
[Here's Kyle balancing with all his might to keep those damn balls on the platform]
We also discovered the website The Find Green, an idea so good that I can't believe Google hasn't thought of it yet. You go to the site, type in the product or service you are looking for and it will give you a collection of Green vendors. I have been looking for Eco-friendly bath mats and found one in seconds. It organizes the products by the most available, but vendors are allowed to list their product for free. Go there now: The Find Green
There's something about the zombie genre that's catnip to filmmakers, and it's not hard to see what: when your movie monster is an uncommunicative blank, any theme can be projected on to him, whether it's conformity, disease, or apathy. Bruce LaBruce didn't select just one of these themes for his film Otto; Or, Up with Dead People -- he selected them all, and then some. From scene to scene, titular zombie Otto (Jey Crisfar) represents something different and provocative; LaBruce is less concerned with establishing a consistent thematic throughline than making a cheeky point to ponder and then moving on. Well, that, and showcasing really cute boys in varying states of undress. A man's got to have priorities, after all.
Case in point: is young Otto truly undead, or is he simply dead to the world, indifferent to what it has to offer? He shuffles around Berlin with the posture (and hoodie) of an indie-rock slacker, barely even speaking until he's discovered by experimental filmmaker Medea Yarn (Katharina Klewinghaus, a hoot). Medea is completing work on her longtime pet project Up with Dead People -- a call to arms for gay zombies to receive equal rights -- and while she's cast human actors in the lead roles, Otto represents a tantalizing real thing. Meanwhile, Otto himself is periodically shaken by flashbacks to a human relationship he once had, as well as the dawning realization that his undead status might be the result of something most unexpected.
While LaBruce is noted for blurring the lines between independent film and pornography -- and there are definitely a few explicit scenes in Otto -- it's also a much more tender film than his fans might expect. What Otto wants principally is not just flesh but feeling, and for any gay man (zombie or not), the latter is always the hardest to come by. LaBruce is typically witty and playful (Medea's girlfriend -- the wonderfully named Hella Bent -- is shot like a silent film heroine, complete with title cards) but the ideas are richer and more resonant than ever before. For a zombie who rejects brains for ropy viscera, Otto's got a lot on his mind.
Bring Sunshine Cleaning up at Sundance and you're likely to hear the same thing, over and over, "It's no Little Miss Sunshine." I agree -- and thank God for that. While I found the overrated Little Miss Sunshine to be crushingly schematic and one-note, Sunshine Cleaning is human, messy, and lovely. Better yet, it hails the arrival of two major female talents (director Christine Jeffs and screenwriter Megan Holley) and confirms two others: surging star Amy Adams (Enchanted) and scene stealer Emily Blunt (The Devil Wears Prada).
The two play sisters down on their luck in sun-baked Albuquerque, New Mexico; Rose (Adams) is a former cheerleading star who's fallen into a dead-end affair with local cop Mac (Steve Zahn), while Norah (Blunt) is a rebel who blows off her boyfriend for a tentative relationship with a local blood bank worker (Mary Lynn Rajskub -- their meet-cute is depicted above). Each sister is seriously poor -- their father (Alan Arkin), who's obsessed with get-rich-quick schemes, is of no help -- so plucky Rose decides to take Mac up on his advice and go into the lucrative business of cleaning up after crime scenes. It's not the kind of work that's going to impress Rose's snobby former friends, but she and Norah are good at it, and it allows both sisters to finally get out from under the thumb of their thwarted expectations.
Adams is a pure pleasure, deepening the perky persona she's perfected in both Enchanted and Junebug; Rose may be doggedly optimistic, but the cracks in her facade reveal something desperate and in dire need of love. Blunt has the supporting role, but that's a niche this actress has claimed as her own, as it allows her to give consistently intriguing performances that are unsympathetic but fascinating. Only Arkin struggles a bit, never totally divesting himself of the similar blowhard he played in Little Miss Sunshine. That character and the sunny title will make comparisons unavoidable when Sunshine Cleaning is eventually bought and released, but for a film about sidestepping expectations, there's no better challenge it's suited for.
Last night, after our panel, we went up to the third annual Stella Artois dinner at the Stein Erickson Hotel. The Stein Erickson is considered by most to be the nicest hotel in the area and is situated high atop a mountain overlooking the city. The Stella dinner is always my favorite meal of the festival. It is a four course meal with beer pairings instead of wine. It is also a welcome change to escape the bustle of Main St. and disappear up the mountain for a couple of hours.
We were greeted of course with beer, while we mingled with some filmmakers, festival executives, and press. The topic on everyone's lips was Heath Ledger of course, but there was some talk of films as well. Finally we were all seated for our first course.
Stella Steamed Little Neck Clams & Baby Potato Stew. Paired with Stella Artois
Next up: Hoegaarden Braised Monkfish Loin over Lobster & Yuzu Risotto. Paired with Hoegaarden
[The monkfish is notoriously hard to clean so you need to get one already cleaned if possible from your fishmonger. Also their favorite food is Lobster so the chef thought it very cute to serve it in a bead of Lobster. Hoegaarden is the original Belgian White Beer, so it is very light and refreshing, much like you would pair a white wine with fish]
The third course was: Korobuta Pork Tenderloin in Leffe with Roaring Forties Blue Cheese Potato Gratin Leffe Gelee, Root Vegetable Sauce. Paired of course with Leffe
[Leffe tastes almost like champagne it is so sweet, which is why it would also be paired with the desert. It is by far my favorite of the beers. Apparently it also has the highest alcohol content.]
[The caramelized honey cream in this dish was about the most amazing thing I have ever tasted. I would have bathed in it if it would not have seemed improper in this very upscale dinner.]
After dinner my good friends at Indiewire took us home where I finally got to have a fire.
In the last few lines of Michael Chabon's book The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, melancholy narrator Art Bechstein looks back at his just-concluded summer and notes (don't worry, it ain't a spoiler), "The people I loved were celebrities, surrounded by rumor and fanfare; the places I sat with them, movie lots and monuments. No doubt all of this is not true remembrance but the ruinous work of nostalgia, which obliterates the past, and no doubt, as usual, I have exaggerated everything."
It's a terrific bit of writing and a passage that comes to mind repeatedly while watching Rawson Marshall Thurber's new film adaptation. Now, Art's lovers really are celebrities (Sienna Miller and Peter Sarsgaard), their hangouts not just movie lots but movie sets. And nostalgia? Why, it's something that's unavoidably invoked by this adaptation, since Thurber's script has jettisoned so much of the beloved book's plot and so many of its main characters. The result retains some of the novel's themes but little else -- enough so that the film adaptation, had it changed the names of some characters, could have gotten away with calling itself a wholly original work.
At least, to a point. Thurber's changes have made The Mysteries of Pittsburgh flatter, more generic, and more like umpteen Sundance films that have come before it. In the book, young Art is at a crossroads, and three people in his life represent a possible future: Phlox, his girlfriend, beckons Art toward tightly-wound domesticity; his gay friend Arthur embodies a tantalizing romantic path that could change Art's life; and small-time hood Cleveland reminds Art that life and death have a way of screwing up his best-laid plans. Thurber's adaptation excises Arthur entirely, demotes Phlox to a one-note supporting role, and beefs up Cleveland (newly bisexual) to serve as a substitute love interest for Art (Jon Foster). Worse, Thurber has replaced lively Phlox with Jane (Miller), a far blander creation. Where Phlox was maddening, intelligent, and exotic, Jane is merely compliant. It's the adaptation in a nutshell.
While the characters in the book delighted in language -- especially the witty Arthur, who's especially missed -- their revamped movie counterparts have little to say and even fewer places to go. Why ditch Chabon's lyrical curlicues for narration ("And that's when it happened") that was pedestrian even on The Wonder Years? And why retain the novel's bisexual themes only to cast two actors -- Foster and Sarsgaard -- that lack any sort of erotic heat together? Thurber no doubt had his reasons, but unfortunately for fans of the book, what they were remains a mystery.
The Advocate hosted a panel today entitled "Gay Filmmakers and Sexual Provocation" at The Queer Lounge at 3:00PM. The panel was conceived and moderated by Advocate film critic Kyle Buchanan and featured Isaac Julien (Young Soul Rebels, Derek), Lesli Klainberg (Indie Sex, Fabulous! The True Story of Queer Cinema) and Bruce LaBruce (Otto; Or, Up with Dead People). The premise of the panel was this question: with so many of these directors from the New Queer Cinema movement reuniting this year at Sundance, is there a chance that they will return to their sexually provocative work from the '90s? And the larger question is, what happened to sexually explicit gay cinema and what does the term even mean now?
[The stage was set for a discussion that no doubt everyone could be interested in]
The panel was very interesting and, at times, very heated. Mainly, all the directors were big supporters of the right to make queer cinema in any way that takes shape. And then, at some point, the topic veered towards GLAAD. Some panelists implied that when they read scripts containing gay characters and give notes it may be considered a form of censorship. Klainberg particularly, who had done a lot of research into the subject with her work on Indie Sex, was very vocal about her disagreement with the practice. This was made all the stranger by the fact that we were in the GLAAD-sponsored Queer Lounge and their logos were emblazoned behind the panel. GLAAD Entertainment Director Damon Romine dispelled a lot of rumors and felt that GLAAD did a service to straight filmmakers who want to get it right and have nowhere else to turn. One very vocal member of the audience disagreed and used the forum to air his grievances with GLAAD while another rebuffed Here! and Logo for not making sexually provocative enough subject matter. Julien agreed that we as a gay audience, just like the rest of culture, had perhaps become too comfortable and wanted safer images delivered in expected structures. All in all, it was a very spirited room.
[Here is LaBruce, no doubt saying something sexually explicit]
But for the most part, it was an informative perspective on how these filmmakers view the role of sex in their work and how they feel either responsible or not responsible to show more of it. LaBruce spoke very candidly about his work in the hardcore porn industry and how it perhaps shapes his aesthetic. But even he noted that having more money -- as he did in Otto -- made him constantly think about how the pushing of each boundary might affect the final product's ability to be marketed. So we come to the age-old question, "chicken or the egg?" Particularly when it comes to the question of only casting attractive people in these roles. Does society dictate these aesthetics or do these filmmakers dictate society's aesthetic? No answer was to be had, but it was a fantastic panel and Buchanan was very charismatic and adept. Afterward someone from The Queer Lounge remarked that he was one of the best moderators they'd had.
[Here I am with Bruce LaBruce and the star of Otto; Up With Dead People, Jeremy Crisfar]
After the panel we had a drink with Klainberg at the Sundance Channel party at 350 Main. She has quickly become one of my favorite people -- Kyle's, too. Here are some highlights from the panel:
LaBruce discusses the punk scene:
Julien discusses Sebastiane, Derek Jarman's first film:
Klainberg discusses how film has changed since the '90s:
Okay so for whatever reason my computer and my cell phone did not change time zones. This means I constantly think that I have one more hour to work or get places than I actually do. This morning I woke up with two goals, blog yesterday, and get to the 12:30 Slamdance screening of Pageant. The film is about a drag pageant and there have been drag queens wandering around Sundance for days. So of course at what I think is 11:15 I tell Kyle that I need to get ready to make it to the screening. He reminds me it is actually 12:15 and there is now no way I will make it to the screening. Lame!
I met directors Ron Davis and Stewart Halpern-Fingerhut outside The Queer Brunch a couple of days prior. Here they are sporting their cute sashes. Sorry guys.
Tilda Swinton (who just today was nominated for her role in Michael Clayton) told me just two nights ago that Main Street in Sundance has become a "shopping mall." And she is right. Last year there was a backlash against the unofficial Sundance sponsors which meant a little less gifting. Also most people were sporting "Focus On Film" buttons to drive the point home. This year it is back, and big time. The buttons have gotten smaller, and I have seen maybe two the whole time, and I heard from another journalist that there were over 150 different gifting suites and lounges this year. I took part in a few.
My first stop was the L-R-G Gifting Villa, where attendees ate hors d'oeuvre while sipping Courvoisier and perusing the goods. The suite is names after a relatively new men's line, L-R-G, which had an interesting selection of Apres Ski meets skater chic. They also carry women's clothes, but their main focus is men. They were good enough to give me my new favorite coat at Sundance.
[This coat feels like I am wearing a down sleeping bag everywhere I go, and has actually made it possible for me to wear less layers]
Here's the thing. Yes, gifting is out of control, but when it started it was very functional. Timberland has given me coats and boots over the years and without them I would have frozen to death. Most events give you as a parting gift some form of winter wear (The In Bruges party gave out a small billed, woolly ski cap, which would have been attractive if it didn't have the bill)
Timberland was back this year and gifting from their "Eco line." These boots, which have kept film critic Kyle Buchanan's feet dry through two days of snow, are made largely from recycled materials. (The lining of the boots are made from recycled plastic bottles, which is hard to believe as they are so soft) Timberland is also going a step further and putting ingredients labels—just like food—on their packaging, which tells you just what portion of the product is made from re-purposed material, and how big or small your carbon footprint will be when you buy it.
Back at the L-R-G Suite, I picked up these killer, if a bit bling for my tastes, headphones from Skull Candy.
And I was introduced to a new water, or energy drink, WheyUp. The drink has 20 grams of protein in every bottle, which is more than I think I need from a beverage, but if you are training and trying to bulk up, this could be handy to have. It doesn't taste half bad either.
One beverage I can vouch for though is Function, particularly their Urban Detox drink. The drink is designed by doctors and I am told it features the ingredients used in hospitals when you come in for dehydration, plus something that supposedly scrubs your lungs and sinus. I can't prove it, but they can at Function Drinks . All I know is that if you drink one before bed it seems to prevent a hangover and so at this altitude and with this dry of a climate I have been drinking a few a day.
I also dropped by the St. Ives suite and spa, where I was told later Rex Lee stopped in for a facial. They were launching a whole new line of "all-natural" products, which I am always quick to support—though I haven't yet done the research as to what their all natural label means. These will be available at your local Wal-Mart and other mass chains.
Yesterday I stopped into the Main Event Red Carpet Lounge & Green Suite at Hotel Park City, where there were some cute finds. A small company called La-Tee-Da! was there with their candles that also had infusion rings, creating "patented Effusion Crown Candles." It's complicated but basically the smell good. Also I found a lesbian owned t-shirt business called We Pluribus. Laura Evans stared the company to create shirts that brought the country together. A very noble and ambitious goal for a t-shirt. They sport peace signs and slogans about how we are all one country and are made with organic cotton and apparently created with power from sustainable energy. Leave it to us to do it right. Check them out at We Pluribus .
Also I met a lovely woman who was making bags out of recycled yoga mats, the cutest of which is a yoga bag made out of a yoga mat. I lost her card sadly but we will be seeing more of her product in the magazine. She was talking to me about her gay brother when I was introduced to the next booth of product, a new skin cream called Regen de Peau II, whose founder Oli Scarlato began to tell me about her gay nephew who is like a son to her. Her own son passed away it seems and her nephew has become a huge part of her life since then. The rest of her life is devoted to the product which she devised to help burned children and continues to give a great deal of product and proceeds to. It just turned out the cream also helped with anti-aging and generally looking good, so the other part of the business is selling this high end product to women and men to look younger and healthier.
Now this may have been my favorite moment since, in my last minute packing, I had put my C.O Bigelow moisturizer in my carry on bag, and apparently it was just way too much liquid for the security at Burbank Airport to allow. As I was about to miss my plane I gave it to them and was without moisturizer since. So now I have something to keep my skin from peeling off in this dry climate. See gifting can be functional, or at least that is what we keep telling ourselves.
Lastly I was at the Lamborghini accessories booth, asking the woman about the price points of her watches for a story we were working on about watches in a coming issue, when, mid-sentence, she was grabbed by one of the suites publicists and turned to her left to be introduced to Radha Mitchell. I was quickly forgotten—a reminder of what Sundance is now really all about.
Hi, it's Anne, catching you up on the annual Outfest Queer Brunch, sponsored this year by Here! TV. Like everything else at Sundance, the Queer Brunch has grown fantastically. When I got to the Grubsteak Restaurant in Prospector Square, there was, get this, a press line, with a smallish phalanx of photographers flashing away at one of the stars of festival film The Hottie and the Nottie--a bit surreal at 11 in the morning, with snow on the ground and nothing but shuttered shops surrounding us.
Inside, it was hot and cold running queers chowing down on eggs, bacon, and bloody marys. Not to stereotype, but the first thing I overheard was a guy near the food line wailing to a friend, "But he said I looked FAT!"
Further inside, though, were some lovely gays, starting with:
(from left) Jason Stuart, David Millbern, and Paul Colichman. (Paul, chairman of Regent Entertainment and CEO and founder of Here! TV, is also David's partner.) The highlight of the gathering was Paul's pitch for the Outfest Legacy Project, which aims to help preserve LGBT film. You've probably never heard Paul speak about the fight for gay equality. If you had, you'd remember. He rocked the joint.
At a nearby table was Scott Seitz of SPI Marketing. When you feel that good gay vibe from brands like Absolut, Scott's professional expertise may well be involved.
Creative and life partners Andrea Sperling (left) and Jamie Babbit shared a quick hug. Their subversive romp Itty Bitty Titty Committee hit a home run with gen-next queer girls in 2007.
WHAT A LAME CONNECTION!
I've got more pix to show you, but, what can I say, tonight the wireless broadband connection from Park City is totally useless. Better to let it go and post more for you soon.
BUT WHAT GLAAD NEWS!
Before I log off, though… Corey, our A&E Editor, already told you in this blog that The Advocate was nominated for four GLAAD Media Awards yesterday, in an announcement held here in Park City. This is the first year gay media were considered eligible for inclusion in GLAAD's awards competition. Obviously, awards don't mean everything. But we put in many hours of
effort to bring you fresh and interesting stories in each issue of The Advocate, and
it feels great to be recognized.
I am really starting to feel bad for Sienna Miller. She is a seemingly talented actress who just keeps ending up in bad movies. I actually really loved her performance in FactoryGirl, though the movie left much to be desired. She is back at Sundance this year with The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, a loose adaptation of Michael Chabon's novel of the same name. I've heard a lot of grumbling the past few months over the fact that so many liberties were going to be taken on this adaptation, however I have never read the book and was prepared to let the movie stand on its own merit. Sadly, it did not. The film never really had much of a point and I found it tedious. The main character is played by the incredibly sexy Jon Foster, who I have to say made it possible for me to sit through it. I was waiting with baited breath for him to take off his clothes and finally he did. And of course the film is a bisexual love triangle, so I was waiting for him to get it on with Peter Sarsgaard, which eventually he did (Peter seemingly riding straddle?). I hate to reduce the film to pornography but I was grasping.
One filmmaker who walks the fine line between pornography and filmmaking is Bruce LaBruce. His latest film Otto; Or, Up With Dead People premiered at Sundance this week. The film is about a gay zombie, but as LaBruce described at the public screening I attended, it is more about how young people today feel dead inside and that capitalistic culture is killing the souls of its youth. The film is clever and imaginative, and perhaps the glossiest LaBruce film to date. It also seemed to me the least sexually explicit film of his I had seen and I found myself waiting restlessly for the next scene of hardcore action. I also found that when we finally did see, say, a 10-man blood orgy, I felt relieved in the same way as when pornographic storylines finally pay off. This is not to say that LaBruce makes pornography, but rather that he is capable of making a film with elements of it and have it, it my view, in no way detract from his goal. In fact, it is the goal—gay men have sex, and as Derek Jarman reminded me just one night prior, sometimes there is an inherent violence in gay sex. In all, I want to commend LaBruce for still carrying the torch for explicit sexuality but also for continuing to have something to say beyond that.
I also had a chance to catch Sunshine Cleaning today, which I loved, as well as Phoebe in Wonderland—which is heavy-handed at times, but I also allowed myself to become emotionally swept up in it. In Wonderland, Felicity Huffman gives yet another powerhouse performance of a woman that seems just steps from a nervous breakdown. I am reminded, as I always am when it comes to Huffman, of her short-lived but amazing Showtime series Out of Order. In this case, Huffman is playing a woman trying to raise a daughter she thinks is just creative, but who is really suffering from the beginning stages of Tourette's Syndrome. Playing her daughter is the next in line for the title of most precocious actor, Elle Fanning (Dakota's sister), who is remarkable in the film.
Another interesting moment in Wonderland is when a young boy, who is allowed to play the role of the Queen of Hearts in his school's production of Alice In Wonderland, finds that his red cape has the word "Fagot" written on it (the children are only 10 and cannot spell). The drama teacher, played impeccably by Patricia Clarkson, gets out a dictionary and asks the kids to look up what the word means (bundle of sticks). She tells them that if they are going to use a word they should know what it means. Which made me recall Alan Cumming and GLAAD's crusade to eliminate the word "Faggot" from our vernacular, which they announced the day before. Clearly it isn't the word's fault, and I think we could all do with a little more education and a little less eradication of anything these days.
When you think of the Sundance Film Festival, you obviously think of Paris Hilton. So it was no surprise to me that she was in town promoting her groundbreaking, soon to be Oscar nominated film, The Hottie and The Nottie. The film is about a hot cheerleader (Hilton) and another, not so hot, (read hideous) girl.
I was invited by my good friends at Regent Releasing to have dinner with her and several other people at the Bon Appetite Supper Club to celebrate the film's pending premiere. Much like Chef Dance, the Supper Club also brings in a new chef every night and hosts dinners at The Riverhorse Cafe (a gorgeous space).
[The walls of the dinning hall were covered in an intricately cut paper garlands of reindeer and snowflakes]
This night it was to be Iron Chef Champion Cat Cora, the first and only female Iron Chef.
[Chef Cat Kora motioning to Paris Hilton]
She served us a delicious but not mind blowing meal of Roasted Eggplant Soup (paired with a 2005 Stonestreet Alexander Mountain Estate Chardonnay), North African Lamb Navarian with Zatar Yogurt (paired with a 2004 Stonestreet Alexander Mountain Estate Fifth Ridge Red Wine Blend) and Herbed Flatbreads, and Chocolate Molten Cake (paired with a 2004 Edmeades Late Harvest Zinfandel Alden Vinyard). The coolest part was the soup, which was served with curried Cotton Candy, which you pulled off of the cone and dropped into your soup, only to watch it magically melt and disappear like magic.
Finally the gay icon herself arrived looking lovely, and at my table of Here! executives and sales agents I had some of the better conversation of the festival. At 11:00PM the dinner was excused and the room transformed into a party that now dozens of people were outside clamoring to get in as the snow came down. I politely excused myself and went home to work, but the dinner was by far the best I have had at Sundance, in decor, atmosphere, prompt service, and all around charm.
When I was still in the closet and living in Houston, I would go to Blockbuster and rent any gay movie I could get my hands on. However it was Derek Jarman's Edward II that really blew my mind and made me feel like, as a gay person, I would one day exist on a higher plateau—some ethereal, romantic space reserved for those of us who knew the power and the beauty that two men shared between them when they loved. I decided then and there I would name my first son Gaveston (we would all call him Gavey for short) after Edward's star-crossed lover.
And it was a reminder, a wake up call really, to see Isaac Julien's documentary Derek. The film is a rare glimpse at the life and work of Jarman—a kind of poetic mix up of his ideas, his early films, his personal oration direct to camera evaluating himself and his legacy on the brink of his own death, and mostly an homage. The film is written by Tilda Swinton, Jarman's longtime muse and collaborator, and is structured as a letter from her to him, as she thinks back to what he has meant to her. But it is also about what Jarman mean to culture, queer or otherwise.
As Tilda took the stage for the Q&A following the world premiere, she stressed the feeling that Jarman's work represented the rough edges, the playful artistic endeavor and everything that Sundance use to mean. She also talked about how culture has shifted to a sleek ("there is a lot of finish on things") corporate ("Main St. in Sundance has become a shopping mall") soulless enterprise. Basically the product, the look and feel, in her view, is trumping the idea, the attempt. And it was for this reason Swinton and Julian felt it was time to bring Derek Jarman back to culture and introduce him to a new generation that has perhaps never heard of his work. Her message of hope is that Jarman was part of a chain, the spirit of which cannot be broken and that she and all of us are responsible for taking it back up.
[My digital camera died but the good people at Kodak were good enough to loan me one for the festival, a Kodak Easyshare V1253. Unfortunately I had not yet learned how to work it. Here are Tilda Swinton and B. Ruby Rich at dinner.]
The evening was a historic one. It was 16 years ago that Jarman brought Edward II to Sundance along with Gregg Araki with The Living End, Isaac Julien with Young Soul Rebels, and Tom Kalin with Swoon. When these films screened at the festival, critic B. Ruby Rich proclaimed it the advent of "New Queer Cinema." And now they were all back. The Living End had screened on Friday with a totally remastered print. Kalin had brought his real life murder story Savage Grace (starring Julianne Moore and being released by IFC in May) and Julian has brought back Jarman, in a way.
They were all gathered, along with controversial director Bruce LaBruce, at the Windy Ridge Cafe for a dinner I attended. James Shamus of Focus, Jonathan Sehring of IFC, Marcus Hu of Strand, and Christine Vachon were also in attendance. They toasted, they reminisced, and speech after speech talked about the changes that had occurred since they were all last in the same place at the same time. But no one seemed really to know what was next.
I was star struck, as so many of these people were my childhood idols and inspired me to go to film school study them. Also Tilda Swinton is probably the most beautiful woman in the world not to mention intimidatingly aloof and distant, and then when asked to speak, articulate, warm, and inspirational. Still it felt like the toast of things gone by and I envied them their past and being a part of something so amazing, but was saddened by the fact that I was not a part of "New New Queer Cinema."
Still there was hope. Savage Grace, which I screened earlier in the day, was magnificent. Kalin constructed an elaborate world in which a domineering Julian Moore playing real life Barbara Baekland, slowly drives her husband away only to replace him with her son. Her son Tony is played by young Eddie Redmayne, who I had the pleasure of meeting. He was wearing a very cute sweater actually for someone who could speak fluently about playing incest.
[Redymane with director Tom Kalin]
And of course Gregg Araki was there and there is hope that his next film could be another step in the right direction.
[Araki very reluctantly letting me take his picture.]
And then there was going to be Otto: Up With Dead People, Bruce LaBruce's latest, which I would see the next day.
To the audience of The Advocate, actress Lena Headey is perhaps best known for the romantic comedy Imagine Me & You, but she's quickly zoomed to more mainstream notice as the gun-strapped mom at the center of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. In that television show, she hunts down dangerous replicants on a weekly basis -- a talent that would serve Headey well in The Broken, her new Sundance entry directed by Sean Ellis. In the film's eerie, gloomy version of London, Headey plays Gina McVey, whose quietly humming life is jolted when she catches a glimpse of a woman who looks just like her. When Gina follows her doppleganger back to the woman's apartment, a terrible accident occurs which leaves Gina with strange visions -- and a sense that many of her loved ones, including her boyfriend (Time to Leave's Melvil Poupaud), have been replaced by uncanny, sinister doubles.
Ellis's first film was the little-seen Cashback, the story of a young man who uses his ability to manipulate time mainly to undress buxom women. That film was a strange, perhaps unconscious comment on the leering power a director wields, and it's one that Ellis exercises again in The Broken -- the actresses in this film take so many baths and showers that it's a wonder they have any time left to flee their pursuers. Ellis has definitely got chops, and the film manages to sustain its tension even when little is going on, but I wish he hadn't telegraphed some of his twists quite so early. It's admirable that Ellis tells us as little about these doubles as he does -- it leaves more room for the viewer's own subconscious to fill in the creepy details -- but some of the shocks involving them are revealed far too soon. As an actress, Headey projects so much intelligence that when the audience knows more than she does, it definitely feels like something's gone broken.
"It has snowed since you were here and your tracks are covered," says actress Tilda Swinton at the beginning of Derek, a documentary/love letter to filmmaker Derek Jarman. "Fortunately, you made them on hard ground." It's been almost fourteen years since Jarman passed away from an AIDS-related illness, and though he left us with some utterly unique, indispensable films like Sebastiane, Caravaggio, and Edward II, Swinton is right -- a lot of snow has fallen since then in the annals of queer cinema. Some of it has been fierce and independent, but much of it has been safe and middlebrow. To watch a film like Derek is to be reminded how much of the former we need -- and how rarely we get it.
The film is directed by Jarman's friend Isaac Julien (Young Soul Rebels) and draws much of its power from three indispensible sources: Swinton's narration (recorded from a "letter to Derek" she wrote for the Edinburgh Film Festival in 2002), a daylong interview with Colin MacCabe that shows Jarman to be cheeky and relaxed in the face of illness, and Jarman himself, who made countless short, experimental films at his Warhol-like Bankside Studio. Many of them are glimpsed for the first time in Derek, and so, too, do we get glimpses of the man and mind who produced some of these indisputably original works of art. To hear about his schooling -- which he dubs "a real crash course in Catholic brainwashing" -- or to learn about his strained relationship with his father will no doubt open up new footnotes in some of Jarman's most-used themes. But to get valuable face time with the filmmaker is to wonder what he'd make of today's film world -- and whether anyone now will make of it what he once did.
Let the self-congratulation begin. We were nominated for 4 GLAAD Awards this year, a first for The Advocate and for any gay media outlet as GLAAD only this year began including gay-specific media among it' nominees.
We were nominated for:
Outstanding Magazine Overall Coverage
Outstanding Digital Journalism Multimedia—for our 40th Anniversary Website
Outstanding Magazine Article "Akinola's Power Play," by News Editor Kerry Eleveld "Special Report: Gays At War," by Marc Haeringer, William Henderson, Michael Rowe, Arts & Entertainment Editor Corey Scholibo, and Bernice Young
Technically, we were a part of a fifth nomination as our own Deputy Editor Rachel Dowd was on the Oprah Winfrey show entitled "Gays Around The World" which was nominated for Outstanding Talk Show Episode.
For a complete list of the nominees go to: GLAAD.org
The announcements were held at the Queer Lounge on Main St. and were well-attended. People danced up a storm until Rex Lee took the stage to introduce the awards.
No big surprises in the nominations. I was happy to see The Bubble was nominated and I think everyone was a little aghast when Stardust was nominated for Outstanding Film Wide Release (remember De Niro as a gay pirate?).
Neil Giuliano actually introduced Rex Lee, but before that, he showed for the first time a PSA conceived and executed with Alan Cumming which is aimed at getting gay people to stop using the "F-Word" with each other because it fosters hate in the straight community as well. I am not sure I agree with this logic and prefer to take back words that are used against us as a means of removing their power, but it was a great-looking PSA and I commend Alan for taking a stand and trying to change our culture.
Then it was back to dancing. Queer people are not afraid to have a good time.
[Jeff Key enjoys the conversation and the cold weather as he can wear his cowboy hat. The story on Jeff and his Showtime documentary Semper Fi that I wrote was part of the GLAAD nominated "Gays at War" package.]
Hi, it's Anne, wrapping up on all the happenings from Saturday. My day started with a crazy dash to the press screening of Tom Kalin's incest-among-socialites drama Savage Grace, which proved to be an intense experience right after my first cup of coffee. It required a monumental mood change to head right over to my next screening. One of this year's big-name premieres, The Great Buck Henry stars John Malkovich as a has-been mentalist, Colin Hanks as his underachieving assistant, and my new favorite actress Emily Blunt as a wise-ass publicist who comes memorably between the two.
Colin's dad, Tom Hanks, was on hand to introduce the movie -- fitting, since Hanks's Playtone Pictures produced it and he, Hanks Sr., is in it for a couple of scenes. Pleasant if not a home run, Buck Henry gives Malkovich lots of chances to put his special madness on display, and Hanks the Younger lots of opportunities to use that deadpan "you've gotta be kidding" take we so associate with his father.
PLANETOUT SHORT MOVIE AWARDS
Next stop, Main Street -- meaning the Queer Lounge -- for the PlanetOut party, featuring PNO's annual presentation of the $10,000 Short Movie Award, sponsored by Scion. On the bus down, I got a chance to hang out with two old friends:
Kathy Wolfe (left) and Maria Lynn, the driving forces behind Wolfe Video. Whichever queer DVD first inspired you, chances are you got it courtesy of these ladies. As we hit the pavement on Main Street…
Outdoors, Park City was looking particularly postcard-like. Indoors, the PNO party got underway.
With our Scion representative looking on, Miami Gay & Lesbian Film Festival director Carol Coombes (center) and PlanetOut entertainment editor Jenny Stewart (right) announced the five winners. The Grand Prize went to Claudia Morgado Escanilla for "No Bikini," which you can see later this year at the Miami G&L Film Fest or surf over to Gay.com and see right now.
All night long, the creme de la queer turned up to celebrate. Naturally GLAAD was in the house…
Rashad Robinson, GLAAD's senior director of media programs, absolutely could not keep his hands off his BlackBerry.
PlanetOut's Dave Posegay (left) and Chris Frederick blissed out.
Nicole, Brianne, Christy, Jeimi and Amanda (not necessarily in that order) surveyed
the action from the sidelines.
Adepero Oduye, star of the short film "Pariah," sported the killer ensemble of the evening. The whole "Pariah" posse partied with us, including writer-director Dee Rees, her partner and producer Nikita Cooper, and costar Pernell Walker. They were leaving soon, because tonight their film was premiering. I went along to the screening, to see what they'd been up to.
GIVE IT UP FOR "PARIAH"
The ride over was one of those Sundance nail-biters. Would the slooow-moving bus would get us there on time? It did -- barely. But we were so late, Dee and Nikita had to walk me in as part of their crew.
An NYU film student, Dee had been mentored on this film by Spike Lee. Obviously he knows talent when he sees it. Rees hit home with her story of a Bronx teenager caught between two worlds, changing into her butch clothes at school and back to her earrings and girly tops to go home to her parents' house. Oduye and Walker, neither of whom is gay, convinced completely. And the cinematography, by Bradford Young, is layered and evocative. For the audience tonight, and apparently for festival programmers and talent scouts in general, "Pariah" will be remembered as one of Sundance 2008's gems. Producer Effie Brown (Rocket Science, Real Women Have Curves) has already signed on to develop the short as a feature.
Give it up for "Pariah!" Even in a blurry shot, you can feel the joy: (l to r) Oduye, Walker, Young, Cooper, and Rees soak up the applause.
Rising stars: Walker (left) and Oduye, radiant after the Q&A, posed against this year's Sundance screensaver.
Proud parents: Bradford Young, Nikita Cooper, and Dee Rees can finally exhale. With tonight's premiere, they're on their way. However hyped Sundance gets, tonight has been all about the good stuff: seeing talent spread its wings. That never gets old.
There's a certain type of story that Vanity Fair seems to specialize in: one involving a glamorous family, a decadent socialite, a hint of incest, and a terrible crime. At the heart of the affair is a juicy scandal, but the presentation is too literate (and the participants too rich) for the tale to be consigned to a mere beach read. So, too, is Tom Kalin's Savage Grace -- his first feature film since the New Queer Cinema landmark Swoon. This tale of rich people behaving badly nails its two most important components: the twin contradictions of trashy allure and aspirational longing. But while other filmmakers might be content to stop there, Kalin imbues the sordid affair with depth, metaphor, and real feeling.
Based on the true-crime story, Savage Grace follows Barbara Baekeland (Julianne Moore), the wealthy heir to the Bakelite fortune whose relationship with son Tony was too close for comfort. When we first meet Barbara, she's a new mother who refuses to let her brand-new baby -- or her disapproving husband (Stephen Dillane) -- get in the way of her ambitious social calendar. For Barbara, there's nothing more important than being talked about, and despite her incredible wealth and glamour, there's always more status to be coveted. Though Barbara is quick to remind people she was "almost a movie star," she's still an actress, and her intercontinental persona is a role she works hard at. For her son, though, it's all he knows -- and he grows up transfixed by it.
Soon enough, Tony has become a young man, an ex-pat polyglot who, while still in thrall to his mother, is beginning to test out his incipient homosexuality. In louche Europe, such experimentation is no big deal, but for Barbara, Tony's orientation is a threat. Her husband is leaving her, her status is drooping, and her sexual self-confidence needs shoring up. When Tony writes to his father and complains, "Taking care of Mommy has become my inheritance," it's a dramatic understatement -- Mommy intends to make Tony her de facto husband, marriage bed and all. Until then, both mother and son will attempt to manipulate and conquer the other, with a fatal prize looming for the winner.
If Savage Grace sometimes recalls Almodovar -- the colors, costumes, and European locales are too decadent not to -- it has a skilled performance at its center that rescues the material from teetering too far into camp. As Barbara, Moore is a preening animal, impeccably put together but with a savage countenance lurking just below. While Barbara is at her idealized best when chirping in French or placing a phone call to royalty, there is a deeper, darker voice that occasionally slips out, flat in inflection and full of implicit menace. Tony is her most perfect creation, and while Barbara will never be at rest, her son's easy comfort with wealth provokes her even further. For Barbara, there was no taboo greater than a loss of personal standing. That this film has given her such nefarious immortality would not faze her -- in Park City, she is being talked about, and that's all that matters.
So I saw The Guitar..and it was...well...disappointing. Directed by Sundance founder Robert Redford's daughter Amy Redford, the film premiered at the large Eccles Theater to much anticipation. There was noticeable unrest after the first 15 minutes of watching the film's star Saffron Burrows buy everything her little heart desired in order to somehow come to terms with the fact that she is going to die. This tuns out to be a wonderful premise for a porno as she sleeps with her various delivery people, sometimes separately and sometimes together. Burrows does as good a job as possible, and when she finally regains her voice and begins to scream and cry, and scream, and scream, I can only say that that moment mirrored my experience of watching the film.
After the film we dashed off to The Queer Lounge for a GLAAD party welcoming new filmmakers. It was there I met up with emerging director Benjamin M. Piety, whose short film The Lonely Lights, The Color of Lemons I reviewed briefly while at the Nevada City Film Festival.
[Here is young Benjamin at The Queer Lounge -- his new short, Sunlit Shadows, premiered last night. Benjamin calls it a "Breakup Mix Tape Movie," and Paula Abdul is on the soundtrack.]
Piety went to film school in Florida and then made The Lonely Lights ,The Color of Lemons, a personal short film about a young man coming to terms
with his sexuality. I will refer to my original review to describe it further:
Not afraid of
stationary shots, Piety allows the camera to hold spaces of nonaction while he recounts an early sexual experience with his male cousin or the absurdity of his father teaching him the difference in pronunciation of the words "crash" and "trash." His sparing use of cinematography only serves him later in triumphantly visual scenes, such as when the camera pans to reveal our hero standing dumbstruck in the middle of a room full of "lonely lights" as they fill the edges of the frame. Piety splits the frame here to make it seem at first as if things are opening up, identical worlds pulling apart, and then collapsing in on each other until all that is left is a small and empty chamber.
Next, we went downstairs to the Absolut global cooling lounge, where gorgeous waiters poured delicious drinks and we all basked in a light blue, Arctic glow.
[(left) Advocate film critic Kyle Buchanan talks to OUT Executive Editor Bill Keith]
Then I was off to Chefdance, which is a multi-night event founded by Park City real estate mogul Kenny Griswold. Griswold brings a different A-List chef from all over the country for each night of the festival, and patrons enjoy a four course meal of their speciality. The portions are infamously small, so I stopped into a new sushi place on Main Street for a roll and some miso so I wouldn't pass out. At Chefdance, I was the guest of Indievest, a new financing and distribution company with board members like Don Cheadle and Liev Schreiber. Indievest hopes to be the ultimate merger between Hollywood and Wall Street, and the gist of it is that qualified investors can invest in specific projects and serve as Executive Producers. However, unlike other outfits where the money barons are in name only, Indievest claims to involve their investors from start to finish, so they are truly for the film enthusiast—who happens to have enough money to underwrite a movie. They will focus on small budget films and they are guaranteeing distribution for every film they produce, as well as marketing and publicity support—which is where most indie films die in the market. They were lovely and I look forward to the three films they intend to distribute this year.
My last stop was The House of Hype, where Flaunt and Puma were hosting a party. The room was sweltering and the garage-style band was deafening, so I made my escape and went home to my precious, precious humidifier.
For all the talk about putting a "human face" on the war in Iraq, there may be no better vehicle than The Recruiter, the devastating new documentary from director Edet Belzburg. Shot in Houma, Lousiana, over a period of nine months, the film follows Sergeant First Class Clay Usie -- a charismatic recruiter struggling in the face of nationwide opposition to the war -- as well as four of his teenage recruits. When the regretful father of one of those recruits notes that "old men start wars, young men fight them," he's only scratching at the surface of the dramatic inequality on display here. Though our Yale-educated, Connecticut-born president claims to be a man of the people, it's hard to imagine a single way he could relate to the poor, struggling residents of Houma, who see joining the military as their only way out of poverty.
Four, in particular, are profiled. Matt (a young Kevin Federline lookalike) wants to join the military to prove he'll never be like the alcoholic father who abandoned him, while David is an overweight teenager who can barely run two miles but, like Matt, idolizes Sgt. Usie -- the sort of encouraging father figure these boys never had. Meanwhile, honor student Bobby enters the military so overqualified that his recruiters can barely believe their luck, but Slipknot-loving lesbian Lauren bristles at her military-enforced makeover. For Lauren, the military is her only ticket to college, and this budding artist will do anything to get there -- until she runs up against the very real conflicts of "don't ask, don't tell."
To watch these young people of seventeen and eighteen grapple with the enormity of their decisions -- and their looming, inevitable stints in Iraq -- inspires dread, not patriotism. As Matt prepares to leave his single mom and Sgt. Usie behind to begin training, his placid face contorts, trying to hold back unfamiliar tears. These are teenagers who barely understand their own emotions, let alone the war they are being shipped off to fight and die for. When four Louisiana National Guardsmen perish in Iraq, Usie attends the funeral and begins to recruit the pre-teen brother of one of the dead. For Usie, who is fighting against record-low recruiting levels, there is no other choice. Sadly, for the young boy with no prospects in run-down Houma, there may be no other option, either.
Hi, it's Anne. Here's how things have changed since I was here two years ago. This morning I tried to get a taxi to a screening and it was Out of the Question. The size of the festival crowd has blown right past the taxi population. But after a high-altitude sprint, I caught the Red One bus to Prospector Square, where I flew in, grabbed my press credentials, and hit the next bus headed for Eccles Theater, the biggest venue at the festival.
The first film of my day was The Guitar, directed by Amy Redford (daughter of Robert, who's also the father of Sundance). Redford's first film stars the tall, gorgeous bisexual Brit Saffron Burrows as a repressed woman who learns she has two months to live, rents a ritzy Manhattan loft, and goes on a credit card spree that includes a stack of Marshall amps and a Fender Stratocaster (as a little girl, she wanted one). Frankly, Redford's first-time filmmaking foibles were obvious. But Burrows, a thinking-woman's sex symbol, was fun to watch anyway, especially in her love scenes with Paz de la Huerta, unconvincing as a pizza delivery girl but more at ease in bed; and with dIsaach De Bankole as a deliveryman whose biceps are as appealing as his smile.
When Redford brought the cast and crew up for Q&A, she credited Burrows, her star, with a lack of vanity very unusual in an actress who's "so stunning."
Burrows, up next, did that unnerving British thing of being not just stunning but witty as well. If rumors are true, the London-born actress has excellent taste in real-life romance. For a long time she was in a relationship with gifted British director Mike Figgis; since then she's said to have been linked to classical actress Fiona Shaw. (Actually, the very classy Shaw also plays the class-challenged Aunt Petunia in the Harry Potter movies.) If you don't remember Burrows from any of those associations, you might just remember her being felt up under the table in a restaurant booth by Salma Hayek in Frida. If you don't remember that, you may not be gay after all.
MAIN STREET!
With the sun sinking and the temperature dropping, I was carried along in a mass of people toward Park City's Main Street, where the parties--at least the first round of parties--were getting underway.
Everybody on the bus! (Traffic was so heavy that this bus couldn't get to the station. The driver let us all out two blocks away.) Incidentally, the bus is a great place to hear juicy conversations about deals in progress and so on.
My destination: The Queer Lounge, bigger than ever, with a great big shingle hanging out over Main Street. Inside, it's great as well, with a quiet(er) downstairs with couches and a cool display of vintage queer film posters curated by Jenni Olson. Upstairs is the DJ and dance floor and...
A great view of the Main Street scene from the Queer Lounge's smoking balcony. It's cold out there, though, so I zipped inside to chat up our hosts for this particular Queer Lounge reception…
The guys from GLAAD: Entertainment Director Damon Romine and President Neil Giuliano. That's me in the middle.
Also in the house are our compadres from Out magazine, Matt Breen and Bill Keith. Hard to feel competitive with guys you like so much, but we try. Whoops, check the watch, and it's time to head for the Racquet Club, for the world premiere of Sunshine Cleaning, starring red-hot Amy Adams and today's second disturbingly smart Brit, Emily Blunt, as sisters breaking out of their little-money, less-hope lives by opening a cleaning service that specializes in mopping up the gore after murders and suicides and such.
You can tell this is one of the festival's buzzed-about films. As the bus crawls its way toward the Racquet Club, passengers count down the minutes...six, five, four...till the standby tickets are released. As we pull up, hopeful moviegoers blast out of all the doors, running on the icy pavement in the parking lot. Meanwhile, a dozen figures, men and women, walk up and down the lines, looking for an extra ticket.
The excitement continues inside, for me at least, because I get to see Quentin Tarantino stopped cold by a festival volunteer who won't let him out of the theater to go to the men's room without his ticket stub. To his credit, he doesn't pull a "don't you know who I am"; he just lumbers off in search of the ticket.
The film itself is highly charming, even if it doesn't entirely come together. With Adams and Blunt supported by an ace cast including Alan Arkin and eight-year-old Jason Spevack, the acting is a pleasure.
Afterward, as the cast and crew head up for the Q&A, there are few questions from the audience. They clearly liked the movie, so why not speak up and discuss it? One audience member gets it right: People weren't asking questions because we were too tired. What can I say? It's been a long day. And Emily Blunt (above center, flanked on the right by director Christine Jeffs and screenwriter Megan Holley) leaves the crowd in a great mood as she describes forming a sisterly bond with Amy Adams during the location shoot in Albuquerque, NM. "We cooked for each other," Blunt says, talking about visits to one another's rental houses. "When you're in Albuquerque…" Her eyes roll up, and we understand the rest of the sentence: "You're all you've got." She also does a mean impersonation of Alan Arkin fending off his hero-worshiping young leading ladies: "Get OFFA me!"
As I write this, the late-night parties are going on all over the snow-covered landscape. As for me, thought, I headed back home. I knew I'd never top Emily Blunt channeling Alan Arkin.
If you were diagnosed with a terminal disease, what's the first thing you'd think of? Would it be your friends? Your family? Your Amazon.com wish list? If it's the latter, then The Guitar is the movie for you -- and only you. It's The Bucket List retooled for bourgeois bohemians, and despite its Sundance trappings (and pedigree -- director Amy Redford is Robert's daughter), it's every bit as phony.
Office drone Melody Wilder (Saffron Burrows) has just been hit with a whammy: she's got inoperable cancer, and only a month to live. For most people, that would be enough of a jolt, but in the next scene after her diagnosis, Melody is fired (wouldn't she have quit anyway?) and in the scene right after that, her drippy boyfriend breaks up with her. Poor ol' Mel is so unlucky that you half-expect her to be shipped out to Iraq next, but instead, she finally snaps and moves into a gorgeous loft, determined to live life to its fullest before she doesn't have any of it left to live anymore.
While Jack and Morgan's bucket list had generic tasks to cross off like "see the pyramids" and "laugh til I cry," mousy Melody is suddenly struck with the aspirations of an Orange County sorority girl. Wouldn't it be soooo shocking, she thinks, to bang the black delivery guy (Isaach De Bankolé) or kiss a girl (Paz de la Huerta)? Still, neither assignation fulfills Melody like maxing out her credit cards and embarking on a movie-long shopping spree (certainly the most morose, "I'm gonna die" shopping montage the film world has ever seen). According to Redford, there may be no better medicine than the Bed, Bath and Beyond catalog, nor any wound that can't be healed by a floor set from Jonathan Adler. Though others might spend their last days living, Melody spends hers spending -- and its the audience that's left with nothing to show for it but empty pockets.
Corey Scholibo here, on the ground and running—well, moving as fast as one can at this altitude with little oxygen.
Here is the scene from the Sundance press office which looks like the streets of Karachi—well what I know of it from the film A Mighty Heart, starring Angelina Jolie.
But I have my pass, I have stocked the fridge from the "all natural aisle" of the Albertsons across the street and I am ready to go.
Last night we went to the Focus party for In Bruges, the premiere of which kicked off the festival last night. We were there a little late and everyone has pretty much left. I did catch a glimpse of Kevin Sorbo, TV's Hercules, leaving as we came in.
My first screening of the day will be The Guitar starring Saffron Burrows as a young woman (hmm, interesting casting choice) who learns she is dying of throat cancer and decides to live it up. Apparently Saffron plays bisexual in the movie (as in life).
It hasn't escaped my attention that, in a quirk of programming, Sundance officials have scheduled press screenings for nearly every black film in the festival on a single day: today. That today also happens to be the first day of press screenings -- as well as a day where most press and industry people are still flying into Park City -- might be grist for The Black List, a new documentary by Timothy Greenfield-Sanders and Elvis Mitchell. The film, a series of interviews with over twenty black luminaries (including Toni Morrison, Chris Rock, and Colin Powell), is an inspiring document that gets at the heart -- and conflict -- of being a minority. Many of its talking heads openly wish for a day when they'll be considered as a "person" instead of just a "black person," but at the same time, their distinct cultural identity is paramount. As minorities, can we have our cake and eat it too? Why, the film asks, shouldn't we try?
The presentation is bare-bones (the soothing music, clever edits, and monochromatic background sometimes suggest a Mac ad), but the discussion is meaty. The guitarist Slash discusses his mixed-race background and his discomfort with bandmate Axl Rose's bigoted line from Guns 'N' Roses' "One in a Million": "Immigrants and faggots/They make no sense to me." Louis Gossett Jr. rails against the Hollywood system that failed to reward him after his Academy Award win and the director who toned down a love scene he appeared in, claiming that the black actor was "all lips." It's a shame that only one LGBT figure was included -- with no mention of his sexuality -- but he's a significant figure that the film gives its final interview to: the acclaimed, Tony-winning dancer Bill T. Jones. Jones invokes early gay pioneers like James Baldwin (who he calls "eloquent and soft") and asks, "Authenticity, identity, love, faith -- what is identity?" In this smart, succinct film, that's a question that may never be answered -- but why shouldn't we try?
Hi, it's Anne Stockwell again. This is actually the view from outside
my window this morning. The snow's still falling. Two guys on the
roof above me are risking their lives tromping around and hacking
icicles off the eaves. Sounds like Elephant Club Night. Last night
was all about Albertson's, where the independent filmmakers of America
were buying Ramen and spring water. I bought my Sundance battle gear:
I'm not paid to endorse any of these products. On the other hand, no event happens without this stuff, so a little respect is in order. Now I'm headed off to the press office to get my credentials and start with the screenings. Catch you later!
Ahhh. Found a taxi in Salt Lake, quietly cruising up to Park City. It's a miracle, frankly, after the chaos at LAX. Everybody in Los Angeles is probably here by now. For sure they were in the security line with me. "I can't believe you won't help me!" bleated one guy to the TSA employee who wouldn't get him cut ahead in line. (A minute later, she did. A minute after that, she let me through too. I was so late, the whole TSA crew was helping me get my laptop out and my boots off and onto the conveyor belt. It was like a Lamaze birth.)
On the flight up, I was sandwiched between an indie producer and a suit. A couple rows ahead, a Sundance-ette in cowboy hat, size 0 jeans, a rodeo-rider belt, and over-the-knee stiletto cowboy boots. The minute she hi
My first screening of the day will be The Guitar starring Saffron Burrows as a young woman (hmm, interesting casting choice) who learns she is dying of throat cancer and decides to live it up. Apparently Saffron plays bisexual in the movie (as in life). 
