Sundance

On Thursday night I was watching The Good Wife, my new obsession (only three years after it premiered), when Rae texted me. She’s in town for Sundance, had an extra ticket, and wondered if I would like to join her. Yes, of course! Who fills a theater seat better than me? The show was at 8:30 in the am—I haven’t been up for one of those in a while—so on my way to Park City, I swung by Starbucks. Their new thing is blonde coffee meaning lighter roasts whereas I prefer a bold, dark roast myself. But it was that or Pike Place which I detest. The Veranda roast ending up kicking my ass. I was so wired, I was literally jumping out of my skin during the screening. I thought I would shake right out of my seat. The people next to me must have thought that I was some kind of junkie going through withdrawals. Nope. I had just had a small coffee, lightly roasted. What the what?!

The film we saw was Your Sister’s Sister from writer/director Lynn Shelton, best known so far for Humpday (which I enjoyed). Your Sister’s Sister, which first debuted at Toronto, was the perfect way to kick off a day at Sundance. It stars Emily Blunt, Rosemarie DeWitt, and Mark Duplass (whom I’ve been lusting after since Humpday). Shelton is associated with the mumblecore film movement (“the new talkies”) which often focuses on characters and dialogue. These are two of my favorite things. Duplass plays Jack, a man whose life if going nowhere. I can relate. His best friend, Iris (Blunt), who was dating his recently deceased brother, convinces him to go off on a personal retreat at her family’s island cabin somewhere in the Puget Sound. There he unexpectedly runs into Iris’s lesbian half-sister, Hannah (DeWitt). Things get complicated when Jack and Hannah drunkenly hookup and Iris shows up for a surprise visit. The film is hysterically funny and quite heartwarming as these quirky characters figure out the next step in their lives—which the movie leaves open-ended. It’s such a great film! I just had the best time. I can’t wait for it to finally show up sometime later this year in select cities. In the meantime I can rewatch Humpday and catch up on Shelton’s and Duplass’s previous projects.

Afterward, I got to catch up with Rae as we rode buses and taxis around Park City trying to get tickets for other showings that day. On one cab ride with two fabulous East Coast lesbians we got their tickets for Shorts V as they couldn’t go. That was pretty awesome. Or so we thought—we’ll get to that later. We both needed protein as well, so we found a diner that was crammed with people and had far too many Gregs which caused confusion. But I finally did get my English muffin which helped stop the shaking. After I got waitlisted for Middle of Nowhere, we hung out the hotel and gossiped waiting for the show. When we got there, someone ended up having an extra ticket so I didn’t have to wait in the standby line after all. Festival goers in Park City are awesome!

The film Middle of Nowhere, in its world premiere, was written and directed by Ava DuVernay. It’s a domestic drama that takes place in the greater Los Angeles area as a wife waits for her man who is in prison. The wife, Ruby, is played by Emayatzy E. Corinealdi who is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen (she was also there in real life for the Q&A). Hopefully we will see more of her; she deserves to become a difficult-to-pronounce household name. Despite some slow parts, this drama was very well written and acted and avoids cliché to truthfully depict these characters’ lives. Just as her husband Derek is about to be paroled after four years of good time, his record is sullied when a fire breaks out in his wing and other details come to light. Just as he is facing an additional four years in prison, Ruby begins a relationship with her bus driver, Brian (David Oyelowo, who is also gorgeous. and English!). It’s beautifully shot and full of close-ups which draws us into the drama. Also, I had a possible Chris Pratt sighting. If it wasn’t Chris Pratt, it was a very attractive man wearing very expensive clothes who looks exactly like Chris Pratt.

Afterward, Rae and I chatted over pints of Guinness and shots of Jameson at an Irish sports bar. The service was terrible—we never did get our nachos!—but in the end our server bought our beers which was at least semi-decent of her. We then went to dinner at the J&G Grill at the St. Regis Deer Valley, the treat of Rae’s fiancé. I can’t even tell you how amazing it was. First, we had to ride up to the restaurant in a funicular—look it up. We had the best wine I have ever had. For an appetizer we ordered the black truffle pizza which was divinely decadent. For the entrée, I got the glazed Niman short rib with jalapeno-apple puree and rosemary crumbs. Oh. My. God. I have never had short ribs before, and now I am obsessed. Obsessed. It is one of the best things I have ever tasted in this life. And for desert, apple crisp. Now that was fine dining. I now know how the other half (and by half I mean 1%) lives, and why they don’t want to give it up. I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, only with slightly better table manners. Last night, I had fish sticks. Fish. Sticks. I have surrendered the ruby necklace and am back to my shitty hooker’s apartment. *sigh*

To end the night, Rae and I went to see Short Films V. WTF? Seriously, what the fuck? That’s all I have to say, except that I’m going to say a lot more. There were seven short films, each one worse than the one before. They were shocking, disturbing, and exploitative. And not in a good way. I did not find any of them artistic and/or meaningful. After each one a piece of my soul died. If this was the crème de la crème of all the shorts submitted, I have to tell you that it’s curdled cream from a rotten crop. Dear Sundance, if you need someone with eyes, ears, and taste to help go through the shorts submissions, I would like to humbly volunteer. Let me briefly tell you about a few of them. The second short was basically gay porn as a guy is looking for some action in a public mall restroom. At first nothing was shown, it was all implied. But then there were flashes of masturbation and fellatio. I’m not a prude and like seeing cock on screen as much as more than the next person. But if you’re going to use hardcore sex in a film please try to do it as tastefully and meaningfully as John Cameron Mitchell (see: Shortbus). People were laughing but only because it was uncomfortable, outrageous, and well, okay, slightly funny. People stopped laughing when there was use of religious imagery that bordered on blasphemous. There was a strange Bolivian film that began with the Official Sundance Selection seal, which at first seemed funny and self-aware. It was interminably long, boring, and painful. In the end I think that seal was used in all self-important seriousness. There was one set in the Scottish highlands where past and present collide. However, it was the goriest thing I have ever seen (between splayed fingers) and full of very black humor. However, I think it jumped the shark from what could have been interesting and funny to something tasteless and sickening. The coup de grâce was the last film. At least I think it was the last film. Rae and I—and half the theater—walked out before the credits had finished to even see if there was any more torture to be endured. Walking out of a festival screening is a pretty big faux pas, but we were well and fully done. Only Dain and Elise know about that bizarre animated short with the chicken and the eggs and the pirates that was absolutely traumatizing. This was even worse and more horrifying by a factor of a lot—and more soul-crushing than all the other films combined. And I was only listening, because from the first ten seconds I knew this was something I could not handle, mostly because of the animation style. So I closed my eyes for most of it. The motto of this year’s festival is “Look Again,” but every time I opened my eyes and glanced up at the screen, I was given a good reason to shut my eyes again. And it was SO LONG. It just would not end. At the end I felt like standing up and saying “I reject you!” much like Jen Andrews does before she walks out of weekday matinees where no one is there. But that’s pretty daring to do in a full theater, especially when the directors are sitting five rows in front of you. I was surprised that no one booed—during any of them. But maybe that’s something they only do at Cannes. Remember how those New York lesbians were just looking to give their tickets away? They knew what was up. “Because they don’t sleep with men, their other senses are heightened.”

So to recap: Your Sister’s Sister is the best thing I’ve seen so far in 2012. The shorts were the worst thing I have ever seen. Ever. Short ribs are fucking delicious. Also, driving down Parley’s Canyon is terrifying, especially in the dark. The End.