Day 4 (Sunday, January 20):

Three days in a row, people. This is unprecedented. I arose at 8 a.m. AGAIN today. I was the last one in bed last night and the first one up this morning. I am the most industrious person in the condo. I have never been in a group of people before in which I was the most industrious. What is going on here?

As I was getting ready to leave this morning, I chatted with the strangers who had slept in my bedroom. (The refugees on the fold-out couch were gone by the time I got out of the shower.) They’re documentary filmmakers who made a film called “10 mph” about a guy who rode a Segway across America. They were very nice. They gave me a DVD copy of the movie, proving once again that if you speak to an independent filmmaker in Park City for longer than five minutes, you will walk away owning a copy of his or her movie.

Perhaps as karma’s way of balancing out my awesomeness, today I started having chest pains whenever I exerted myself, e.g., by walking kind of fast or going up a slight incline. I thought it might be the high altitude, except that it’s never been a problem before. Is this nature’s way of telling me not to walk anywhere, ever, for anything? Or is it nature’s way of telling me not to eat at Burger King every day? Either way, I plan to continue ignoring nature, which has rarely been useful to me anyway.

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Day 3 (Saturday, January 19):

Remember how I was up at 8 yesterday, and how you snidely predicted that would be the end of my early rising? Well, guess who didn’t get to bed until after 2 and still got up at 8 this morning! That’s right. Suck it, haters!

The reason for my ambitiousness was partly out of how professional and diligent I am, and partly because I wanted to see the movie about time travel and killing. It’s “Timecrimes,” a Spanish film written and directed by Nacho Vigalondo, who was at the party last night in his film’s honor, singing karaoke like a madman. I was particularly fond of his rendition of the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” in which he changed the lyric “nature of my game” to “nacho of my game.” The food at the party was nacho-based, too. This kind of thing probably happens a lot when your name is Nacho.

Speaking of the party, conversations about it were overheard on the shuttle bus today. It was the talk of the town! Apparently after we left, a squadron of tow trucks showed up to haul away the cars that people had parked in the neighboring condos’ driveways. Any party involving both the fire department and tow trucks is a success in my book.

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Day 2 (Friday, January 18):

I arose at 8 a.m., an early hour that readers of previous years’ diaries will recall is typical of the first day of the festival and much less typical of subsequent days. But this year we are being very diligent and professional and will arise by 8 a.m. every day! We are even referring to ourself in the plural, that is how professional we are.

First on the docket was a documentary I was very eager to see. It’s called “Stranded,” and it is the story of the Uruguayan rugby team whose plane crashed in the Andes Mountains in 1972. You probably remember this story because it involves cannibalism. I know that’s why I remember it. My whole life I thought it was a Chilean soccer team, not a Uruguayan rugby team, but you can bet I got the cannibalism part right.

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Day 1 (Thursday, January 17):

Have 12 months really elapsed since the last time we cavorted in Park City, Utah, for the Sundance Film Festival? A look at the calendar confirms the answer to my rhetorical question. And here we are again, movie critics, journalists, filmmakers, showbiz honchos, and regular ol’ movie lovers, all crammed into an affluent mountain town that is currently colder than the frozen tundras of hell.

Why do we do it? Because we love movies. Also, at least in my case, because someone is paying us. This year I’ve endeavored to spread myself as thin as possible by offering coverage to both of the major outlets I write for, Film.com and Cinematical. Officially I’m here on Film.com’s dime — that’s what it says on my press badge — so I guess it’s like I’m married to Film.com but openly cheating with Cinematical. Luckily, my spouse and mistress are both very understanding, and neither is particularly concerned about the quality of my performance. I’m sorry, I believe this metaphor has gotten away from me.

The first day of the festival consists only of a premiere screening in the evening, and so usually I ignore “Day 1″ altogether. But this year they offered a press screening of the opening-night film to be held at the same time that the flick was unspooling at the public gala event across town. (Actually, I’m told they’ve been doing this opening-night press screening for several years and I just haven’t ever gone to it. WHATEVER.)

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We’ve discussed here before how January is a terrible month for new movies. January releases are almost always bad. (Movies released in L.A. and New York in December that go wide in January don’t count.) I’ve never given a January movie an A or A- — until now. I’m delighted to announce that “Cloverfield” breaks the streak! The first excellent January wide release of the millennium!

“27 Dresses,” on the other hand, is exactly what you expect from a January movie: unoriginal, tedious, and forgettable. “Mad Money” is cute and perhaps acceptable; my review is at Film.com.

Finally, Utah readers might wonder about “Falling,” the new film from Richard Dutcher (“God’s Army,” “Brigham City”). It opens at SLC’s Gateway Megaplex today. Dutcher’s P.R. folks were kind enough to offer to send me a screener just after Christmas. I said I’d love to review it, and they should send it as soon as possible, as Sundance was fast approaching. They said they’d send it off right away. Two weeks passed and I got it Tuesday, the day before I left for Sundance. So I’ll get to it when I get back.

In the meantime, keep an eye on this blog, Film.com, and Cinematical’s Sundance page  for my Sundance Film Festival coverage. It’s just like being there, only warmer!

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Everyone thinks their friends are funny. That’s usually part of why you’re friends, because your senses of humor match. But some of my friends’ blogs make me think, “I bet other people would laugh at this, too.” So here are some posts that I believe you will enjoy, as penance for not having a “Snide Remarks” column this week (or next week, or the week after).

Chris Clark is very funny. He will pretend not to care that I said that, but secretly he is delighted and wants more people to tell him he is funny. You might enjoy his recommendations for making church Christmas parties more fun, and his feelings about his wife about to have a baby (key line: “WE ARE NOT VIETNAMESE”), and his not-at-all-bitter thoughts on some negative reviews he recently received. Oh, and DO NOT MISS “Eventide Masquerade,” which is his answer to the vampire novel “Twilight.” Actually, you will not go amiss if you just start at the beginning of his archives and work your way forward.

His wife is Lisa Valentine Clark, who has been one of my best friends since we were in the Garrens Comedy Troupe together way back in ’96. Lisa and I are very close. While she was pregnant this last time, I helped her by gaining as much sympathy weight as I could. We joke about me being the father of at least one of their children, but secretly we all wish it were true. I liked her story about seeing Maroon 5 in Las Vegas (her brother is the guitarist), and her charming thoughts on parent-teacher conferences, and an amusing story involving their daughter Phoebe. (Please note: Despite having been an actual English teacher at one point, Lisa doesn’t always spell words the right way. This, and the fact that she doesn’t give a rat’s arse, is part of her charm.)

I’ve known Craig Bates since high school. I believe I am partially responsible for getting him into acting, so if his wife is reading this, I apologize. Craig can rant and rave like nobody’s business, and he is not afraid to use a swear word here and there if necessary. Enjoy “What’s Wrong with Corporate America” and “Life Takes Visa.”

Then there is Emmie. Ah, Emmie. A “graceful beauty,” I once called her in a review of a stage production she was in. So true, so true. She is married to a guy named Steve that none of us have ever met, but we’ve seen pictures so we know he exists. Anyway, just as with Chris Clark’s blog, you would do well to just peruse Emmie’s archives (if you know what I mean). Among recent posts, I laughed at this one and this one and this one.

Ken Craig is another friend from the Garrens Comedy Troupe days. He lives with his wife and innumerable children in Las Vegas, where it is too hot to go outside eight months out of the year. He doesn’t blog very often, but when he does it’s because he has a topic that needs addressing. See “Dr. Schulze, I Presume” and “A Very Merry Christmas Movie.”

Robert Reed was a classically trained actor whose most famous role was that of the dad on “The Brady Bunch.” He was evidently a prickly fellow and constantly harassed the show’s producers about its lousy scripts. I get the feeling that for him, working on the show was like a gourmet chef having to take a job at McDonald’s.

I’ve just stumbled across an amazing memo that he wrote to the producers in response to a particular episode. It is amazing for two reasons. One, analyzing “The Brady Bunch” with high-minded theatrical philosophies is funny, and the seriousness with which Reed treated it is hilarious.

But two, in the process of explaining why “The Brady Bunch” sucks, Reed actually does a really good job of explaining the principles behind comedy, and why violating those principles usually results in failure.

Here is the memo. It is long and academic-sounding, but I truly do find it fascinating.

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There is no “Snide Remarks” today, nor will there be one next Monday or the Monday after that, because I’ll be covering the Sundance Film Festival.

However! Please do not despair. I will do my best to entertain you in other ways. I’ll be doing my usual daily reports from Sundance, with the first one appearing Saturday. Also, I’m going to post some other amusing reading material for you here shortly.

In the meantime, why not watch a video of two old French-speaking men fighting on a TV news broadcast?

The biggest new release this weekend isn’t new, technically. It’s “The Bucket List,” which opened in New York and L.A. on Christmas so that it could eligible for the Oscars … Oscars that it probably won’t be nominated for, since it blows. I guess they were thinking that if it starred Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman and was directed by Rob Reiner (“A Few Good Men”), then of course it would get some Academy Award attention! My review of it is at Film.com.

The other new wide release is “First Sunday,” an African American comedy that is clearly a rip-off of the Tyler Perry genre of comedy/melodrama/religion mishmashes. It’s the worst movie of the year! So far!

It’s interesting that “The Bucket List” and “First Sunday” both have the same major thing wrong with them: They are ill-equipped to handle the abrupt shifts in tone from buffoonish comedy to serious drama. I even used some version of the word “buffoon” in both reviews. It is very hard to switch from cartoonish, unrealistic comedy to down-to-earth melodrama, and these movies do not pull it off.

Still in limited release but expanding to more theaters today is “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” a true story about a man who suffered a stroke that left him unable to move anything other than his left eye — and with that left eye he established a means of communication and dictated a book. It’s very inspiring. If nothing else, it will give me a kick in the butt the next time I’m complaining to myself about writer’s block. This guy couldn’t even move and he still wrote a book.

Finally, we have two of HOLLYWOOD’S SHAMEFUL SECRETS© (movies that are not screened for critics, which almost always means they’re lousy):

“In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale” is from notorious German director Uwe Boll, widely considered the worst filmmaker currently working. His previous films have been either video game adaptations (“The House of the Dead,” “Alone in the Dark”) or fantasy-and-swords crap (“BloodRayne”); this one appears to be both!

“The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything: A Veggie Tales Movie” is a Veggie Tales movie. I have no idea why anyone over the age of 4 would be interested in seeing it. Perhaps that is why they did not screen it, as most critics are over the age of 4.

(Actually, I’m told that it was screened in some cities. But if it was screened in Portland, the publicist neglected to tell us, so I’m callin’ it a Shameful Secret©.)

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The Online Film Critics Society, of which I’m a member, has finished its voting and announced its awards for 2007. It turns out most of the things I voted for wound up winning, which is always nice; where I voted for something else, I’ve noted it.

Here are the winners. If you’re curious to see who the nominees were, you’ll find the list here.

Best Picture: “No Country for Old Men”
Best Director: Joel & Ethan Coen, “No Country for Old Men”
Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis, “There Will Be Blood”
Best Actress: Julie Christie, “Away From Her” (My vote: Marion Cotillard, “La Vie En Rose”)*

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