Day 3 (Saturday, January 20):

The plan was, I would get up at 7:15 this morning and make the 8:30 press screening of “Snow Angels,” the new film from David Gordon Green, whose “All the Pretty Girls” I loved, whose “Undertow” I liked, and whose “George Washington” is on my TiVo awaiting my perusal. That was the plan.

But apparently, I really needed sleep. Despite going to bed early — only midnight — last night, when my alarm went off at 7:15 this morning, I … did nothing, apparently. I did not hear it. I have no memory of it. City Weekly arts editor Scott Renshaw says he tried to wake me, knowing I wanted to see the 8:30 movie, but to no avail. I assume he stopped short of throwing me off the bed, or setting my hair on fire, but I suppose those are not really the duties of an arts editor. Those are the duties of my mother, which Renshaw is not.

At any rate, it was 8:25 when I did wake up — thank goodness for my bladder! — so “Snow Angels” was out of the question. Still, it could have been worse. I could have slept until noon. I’ve done it before, and I will do it again.

With nothing now until 11, I got to press headquarters at about 9:15 to do some work. The scarcity of electrical outlets there rivals that of the Sundance House, but I managed to find one behind a display table that I could access if I shimmied behind the table. Work was accomplished; complimentary bottled water was drunk; the passive voice was used.

At 11 a.m. was a press screening that proved to be a hot ticket. Now, this early in the festival, there’s no legitimate “buzz” around anything, because no one’s actually seen anything yet. There is only curiosity: People have read the description in the film guide, and it sounds interesting.

The description of “Teeth,” the 11 a.m. film, is that it’s a horror-comedy-parody about a teenage girl who discovers her vagina has sharp, fang-like teeth in it, ready to bite down like a Venus flytrap on any foreign object they encounter. Who wouldn’t want to see a movie like that?!

It turns out to be a funny, gross, multi-layered movie, structured like a horror film (we never see the “monster”), satirical like a spoof of B-movie creature features, and even a little thought-provoking. The subject of evolution is brought up. A development like this (assuming the woman could control whom she admitted and whom she “bit”) would effectively put a stop to rape, wouldn’t it? Or if it didn’t, at least the rapist would leave plenty of evidence at the scene. And by evidence, I mean his wiener.

By the way, the film isn’t shy about showing the wounds created by the heroine’s vengeful vagina (vengina?). Guys, this movie is harder to watch than the torture scene in “Casino Royale.” As Weinberg put it, “‘Teeth’ will do for vaginas what ‘Jaws’ did for the ocean.” We’re guessing Lions Gate will pick it up, cut out the best parts to get a better rating, totally screw up the marketing, and the film will never be heard from again. But that’s just a guess.

Next up was another must-see film, playing to another packed screening room (well, the same screening room, repacked). It was “An American Crime,” and I suspect much of the reason for the attention is that during last night’s public screening of it, someone passed out. Apparently the incident occurred just as something climactic or alarming was happening onscreen, which freaked out the audience even more. They stopped the film, turned up the lights, and got medical attention for the unlucky filmgoer.

I heard the account from a few different sources today, hearing “fainted” a couple times and “had a seizure” another time. I’d like to think it was the film’s alarming subject matter caused it — it’s the true story of an Indiana woman who locked up and abused a teenage girl in the 1960s — but let’s be honest here: There are a lot of reasons you might pass out at Sundance. Fatigue, sleep deprivation, drunkenness, the high altitude, and consumption of pharmaceuticals all spring to mind. Being shocked by a woman burning a girl with cigarettes would be a little farther down the list, especially considering there is also a movie about a girl with man-eating lady parts.

“An American Crime” is not, unfortunately, a very good movie. The subject matter is harrowing, but the film doesn’t know what to do with it other than simply recreate it the way court transcripts suggest it happened. It’s grim and horrifying for no good reason, like sleeping with Lindsay Lohan.

After the screening, I remembered a card I’d been handed earlier. The Yarrow, where most of the press screenings are held, is a frumpy (I’m sorry, “rustic”) hotel that has finally decided to make use of its Sundance connections by hosting cool, hip, with-it events during the fest. So I’d gotten this card advertising “Dreamland Village at Yarrow,” which is set up in an indoor courtyard and features some of the following:

“Rainforest Eco Tent.” (I don’t know.)
“Free Massage.”
“Free Internet Lounge.”
“Tsonga Shoe Gifting Lounge.” (I’m pretty sure “gifting lounge” means “store.”)

So my pal Childress and I wandered in to see what the deal was. The area has been made to look like a spa, with therapeutic crystals, and people lying on tables, and so forth. The sound of running water could be heard. What could not be heard was anyone coming over and saying, “Can I help you?” or “Were you interested in a free massage?” or “Welcome to the Dreamland Village” or anything. As far as I could tell, Childress and I were completely invisible to the dozen or so people milling around. So, I guess they succeeded in making the Yarrow hip, as I’m pretty sure I would be ignored if I walked into a trendy spa in L.A., too.

I had a couple hours before my next film, so I tried the pizza place that used to be a burrito place. I never went in there when it was a burrito place. I think it was one of those froofy burrito places — not a Mexican restaurant, but a restaurant where they’re like, “Oh, here’s some sun-dried tomatoes and chicken salad, wrapped up in an organic spinach tortilla!” and call it a burrito. That’s not a burrito; that’s a wrap. It’s totally different. Anyway, it’s a pizza place now, and they serve legitimate pizza — not that California Pizza Kitchen crap, where it’s like, “Oh, here’s a flat piece of bread, and we’ve put some pesto and cauliflower on it!” Californians ruin everything. And I say that as a Californian.

Anyway, properly fed, I went back to press headquarters to use that electrical outlet I’d found earlier. (If you’re wondering why my laptop must be charged so frequently, it’s because my laptop — which I use only when I travel; I have a good computer at home — was made in 1973 and is powered by coal.) Patrick Hubley, Sundance’s press coordinator and the world’s friendliest Canadian, stopped to ask me how things were going, and I mentioned the dearth of electrical outlets — I may have actually used the word “dearth” — and he said he would get his top people right on it. Of course, having seen the way he placated the Australian jerkwad yesterday, it’s entirely possible he was just humoring me, too.

Patrick asked if I’d checked out any of Sundance’s online stuff. I said, “No, I’ve been too busy watching movies on actual movie screens!” He said I should check out the online stuff and then write about it, so that people who read me would check it out too.

So apparently Sundance has some online stuff. Maybe some short films or something that you can watch. Oh, I do know you can watch some of the shorts on iTunes! So yeah, do that. That’ll be awesome.

Back to the press screenings next, with “Everything’s Cool,” a light documentary about global warming — or, specifically, about scientists’ efforts to overcome the misinformation campaign that has resulted in many people thinking global warming is a hoax. One lady in the movie pointed out that soon enough we’ll all “be with Jesus” and “all this won’t matter anymore,” which I guess is as good a reason as any to pretend global warming is a myth. If you’re pretty sure Jesus is returning REALLY soon, you could probably stop paying your rent, too.

After that screening, I had just enough time to grab another slice of pizza from Used To Be a Burrito Place before I had to dash across the shopping center to the Yarrow for my fourth and final film of the day, a cute-enough relationship comedy called “Broken English.” Parker Posey plays a New Yorker who is unlucky in love; hilarity ensues.

It was only 9-ish now, and awfully early to be going back to the condo, especially on the first Saturday of Sundance, when surely there would be frivolity and merriment up on Main Street, but dang it, there were deadlines to be met. Moreover, it was about 2 degrees outside, and the wind chill factor made it feel even more arctic, so I headed home. Where’s global warming when you need it?!

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 20th, 2007 at 11:53 pm and is filed under Sundance Film Festival. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.