Day 5 (Monday, January 21):

My Ripken-like streak of arising at 8 a.m. continued today, and get this: I didn’t have to be at a movie until 11:30. I used the time to write and to visit headquarters to request a ticket to a public screening tomorrow night.

We got our first really bad weather today. It snowed all night and continued to snow off and on throughout the day, making everything slushy and wet. This almost led to an unpleasant incident on my walk to the Yarrow when a couple was on the sidewalk in front of me was walking really slowly and arm-in-arm, preventing me from getting around them. It is unwise to raise my ire first thing in the morning.

While waiting for the shuttle bus to take me to headquarters, whom should I run into but Patrick Hubley, the world’s friendliest Canadian. Patrick used to be the head press officer for Sundance, so I used to see him frequently before and during the festival, always unfailing nice, helpful, and energetic, no matter how stupid my questions were. This year he’s here just as an audience member, which means he’s able to actually watch and enjoy the films instead of dealing with minor crises 24 hours a day. It was very good to see him. I know you don’t care, but hey, whose diary is this?

On our shuttle bus was Rachel Dratch, formerly of “Saturday Night Live.” She was sitting across from me with a friend. I didn’t want to make a big public scene, so I waited until I was getting off and then tapped her on the shoulder and said, “You, I love. You’re so funny.” She said, “Oh, thank you!” and that was the end of our correspondence. She seemed nice. I don’t know why I said “You, I love” instead of “I love you.” Maybe it seemed less intimate.

I took care of my business at headquarters and hustled back to the Holiday Village for an 11:30 screening of “Sunshine Cleaning.” The thing about the Holiday Village venue is that they always choose the least efficient way of doing things. Maybe it’s a game between them and the other venues. At the Yarrow screening rooms, they’ll have a volunteer at the door writing down your name and who you work for. (The films’ publicists want this information, and the festival also likes to keep track of which press and industry people go to which screenings.) Sometimes they have two volunteers working simultaneously, to make the line move twice as fast.

But at the Holiday Village, they have you sign in yourself. The volunteer just sits there at a table and says, “Write your name and your outlet here on the paper.” The line moves slowly — and if the line is longer than about four people, it no longer fits in the little lobby area and you have to stand outside. There’s a word for this kind of scenario, and it starts with “cluster.”

That’s how it was today. The line was about 30 people deep, and we were out in the snow, hardly moving at all. Finally, at 11:20, I was about 10th in line when a Sundance worker came out of the theater and announced there were no seats left, sorry. They didn’t even go outside to tell the rest of the line. I guess they assumed those of us who had been within earshot would pass the word along.

Over at the Yarrow, there was something else starting at 11:30, and I decided this could fill my “I don’t know what this movie is, but I have nothing else to do right now so I might as well watch it” slot. I get at least one of those every year. I got to the screening room (the smaller of the two Yarrow venues) just as they stopped letting people in so they could count the number of empty seats. I was first in what quickly became a line of about 15 people.

While we were standing there waiting, someone from a major entertainment news publication came hurrying up, also seeking admittance. He saw there was a line and that space was tight. He found the film’s publicist, gave his name and the publication he worked for, and said — right there in front of those of us waiting our turn — “Can you facilitate?” Meaning: “Can you help me get in regardless of whether anyone else does?” The publicist, much to his credit, said it was up to the fest volunteers who run the screenings. They certainly weren’t going to play favorites.

The guy went to the back of the line. I don’t know if he got in to the screening, but I hope he didn’t. I mean, if he had taken the publicist aside and privately asked him to work his mojo, that would be one thing. But to do it right in front of everyone, like his needs were more important than everyone else’s, that’s just crass. Some Hollywood reporter he is.

The movie was “Máncora,” a Peruvian drama about a young man trying to figure out what to do with his life. In the end he discovers that you can’t run away from your problems, which is a pretty original and innovative thing for a movie to be about.

[More about the film, and how its subtitles were messed up.]

Next up, in the other Yarrow theater, was a film called “Phoebe in Wonderland.” I was near the end of the line when a woman hurried to join it and said, “Is this the line for ‘Phoebe’?” Only she pronounced it “Foe-bee.” “Is this the line for ‘Foe-bee’?” I said to whoever was next to me, “Ten season of ‘Friends’ and someone is still unfamiliar with the name Phoebe?”

“Foe-bee in Wonderland” is an excellent dramatic comedy about a peculiar little girl who’s rather obsessive-compulsive except when she’s rehearsing for her school play, “Alice in Wonderland,” where she behaves pretty normally. It’s a very lovely and warmhearted story about the power of words and labels, about parenting, and about over-zealous school systems that try to stifle all the childishness out of children. Phoebe is played by Elle Fanning, sister of Dakota Fanning, who was at Sundance last year getting raped in “Hounddog,” a movie that has not been heard from since. I suspect “Phoebe” is going to go a lot further.

I had a break next, so Weinberg, Kim, and I walked across the parking lot to Used To Be A Burrito Place. I don’t remember the real name of it. I only know it used to be a burrito place and that, as of last year, it’s now a really good pizza, pasta, and sandwich place.

They had a sign posted above the counter indicating that they make their food “with love,” that it’s not “fast food,” and that if you’re in a big hurry you’re in the wrong place. We loved the sentiment. The funny part is that they didn’t put the sign up especially for Sundance — the woman at the counter said it went up weeks ago, for the locals. I was hoping the pushy guy who tried to butt in line at the “Máncora” screening would show up and demand some pizza really, really fast, but alas.

Our next film was one I’d been looking forward to, “The Mysteries of Pittsburgh,” based on Michael Chabon’s first novel. Chabon is one of my very favorite writers, and while “Mysteries” isn’t his best book, it’s certainly worthwhile. This screening was packed, too, and Weinberg and I wound up in the very front row. Luckily, they set these screening rooms up so that the front row isn’t ridiculously close to the screen, and viewing the film wasn’t uncomfortable.

Well, except for the fact that it wasn’t any good. Weinberg started a new game during it, where we write notes to each other rather than whisper snide remarks©. At a point where the main character was about to be injured, only to be saved when his friend Cleveland — who had been absent for weeks — suddenly appeared, I wrote to Weinberg: “DEUS EX CLEVELAND.” When you hang out with me, you get to experience awesome jokes like that all the time.

[More on the "Mysteries of Pittsburgh" disappointment.]

We had only moments to get from “Mysteries” to our final film of the day, “Downloading Nancy.” I was anticipating it because someone had said it was awful, while someone else said it was difficult to watch but nonetheless praiseworthy. Finally, something that would spark strong feelings one way or the other!

The movie is about an effed-up woman who was sexually abused by her uncle when she was young and now wants to be abused by her sexual partners as an adult. She goes to meet a guy she met on the Internet expressly for that purpose, while her cold-fish husband waits at home and worries (sort of).

I am pleased to report that “Downloading Nancy” is the Worst Film of the Festival (so far). It is singularly ugly, loathsome, vile, and unpleasant. There are no characters in the film for us to like, relate to, sympathize with, or root for — or even anyone who seems like he or she is SUPPOSED to inspire such a reaction. While enduring the film, I imagined what a public screening must be like, particularly the Q-and-A afterward. I imagined asking the director this question: Considering how much time, energy, and money it takes to make a film, why would you go to all that trouble just to make something so ugly?

[Why does "Downloading Nancy" have product placement, of all things?]

We stood around and ranted about it for a while, then got hungry and wandered over to Albertsons to look for food before finally ordering pizza from Dominos. With our Cinematical pals Erik Davis and James Rocchi offering their Yarrow hotel room as headquarters, Weinberg, Kim, and I joined them in eating and reveling until it was late at night and I had to get back to the condo before I fell asleep. The other Film.com folks had left, and the strangers were gone, so I had the place to myself, to sleep in whichever bed I chose! I was very excited to take advantage of this.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 22nd, 2008 at 5:11 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.