More Sundance Parties...Seriously?

Sundance Day 4:  Everyone is Just So Tired

            The cast has spent the day doing photos and press, so by the time we see everyone at the Rally.org party, they look a little wilted.  This is a small gathering, and after a long day of being “on,” the actors tuck hungrily into the buffet and talk quietly to one another, relaxing.  I am exhausted, too.  Eddie has to excuse himself to make some work calls, and  I simply don’t have it in me to carry on conversations with celebrities tonight.  Instead I sink down at the end of the table and shoot the breeze with Shannon’s husband, Dean.  It’s really, really hard to spend days on end chatting animatedly to people you don’t know.  I don’t envy actors.  No matter how excited and proud you may be of something, continuously demonstrating enthusiasm for anything is depleting.  Georgia King, who has only arrived in Park City today, heads home to put her feet up for a bit before heading out to more parties.

            Although the vibe is subdued, it is still a happy one.  Shannon dances and prances.  People laugh together.   Ricky tells wild stories and Jane hands me her phone so that I can text her daughter, who went to the same college as I did.  Emmy and I tell each other stories about moving; I explain what brought me to Los Angeles.  She says she feels the same pull to move to New York.  “You should do it,” I say.  I tell her we have lots of friends in New York and would be happy to help in any way we can.  We hug and want to talk more, but Ilan Eshkeri, the film’s composer, drags her away.  It’s time to go home.

            It’s only 8:30, but I’m ready for a bath and bed.  Surprisingly, Eddie is attending a midnight screening of Kink, so I try to keep him company for a while.  By 9:15 I give up and head back to the room.

Look who hitchhiked home with me.

            As we wait to board our plane, Eddie notices that both James Callis and Damian Lewis on our flight.  He also receives an email from our friend Patrick Fabian, who was filming in Park City this weekend.  The news is out:  Sony has picked up Austenland.  The film is due to release in the U.S. this summer.  Although I am not surprised it’s been picked up, I am nevertheless thrilled. So this is what it’s like when the process actually works. 

More Sundance Parties...Exotic!

Sundance Day 2:  The Second Party

            We head to Little Black Book’s mixer for young industry executives.  The party is in a suite in the Caledonian hotel.  I think it’s going to be fancy, but it’s a lot of shag carpeting and things with bears on them. Our coats get thrown into a pile in the corner and Eddie says hello to a few people he recognizes.  Whenever Eddie can’t remember someone’s name we play the game where I introduce myself in an effort to lure the other person into saying his name.  Then I secretly whisper the name to Eddie.  This only works about 50% of the time, since many people in Hollywood simply say, “Nice to meet you,” when you introduce yourself, leaving their own identities forever a mystery. 

            We are standing in a small group of APA agents and people seem a little bored, so Eddie brings up my outstanding shooting range performance.  Everyone perks up.  We are Americans, so talking about guns always interests us.  The talk turns to the difficulty of raising children in Hollywood, another favorite topic.  None of us actually has children, but we are all married and hope to have them someday, so we all anxiously share our potential solutions.  The consensus seems to be that moving to Santa Barbara is probably the best bet.  Either that or Sherman Oaks.

            Eddie has to take a call, so I find myself alone in a room full of hungry young execs who aren’t super-interested in chatting with someone who can’t directly help their careers.  As I am trying to squeeze through a crowd of people I meet Aaron, a young exec at Sony.   Not long into the conversation we discover that that he attended the same Boston school where I used to teach.  Although we didn’t overlap, we know teachers in common and this delights us.  As I am putting on my coat, I overhear him saying to his friends, “I mean, what are the odds?” 

            We head back to our friends’ house in Park City to quickly pick up our things so we can drop them off at our new lodging before the big dinner event.  Our friends are watching the History Channel and prepping ammunition shells.  It looks so relaxing that we are immediately drawn in, and several hours pass with me happily stretching out the brass as we talk animatedly about favorite books we have read, mostly history and presidential biographies.  This is by far my favorite part of the evening.

Sundance Day 3:  The Third Party

            Eddie drops me off at the High West Distillery, where Entertainment Weekly is hosting a dinner for Austenland.  While he is parking the car, I walk in and quickly realize this is a plated dinner with assigned tables.  I find Eddie’s name card at Shannon’s table but there is no seat for me.  I ask a lady in a furry vest, who looks flustered and says she will figure something out.  In the meantime, I sit in Eddie’s seat and wonder what I will do or where I could skulk if they can’t find any room for me.  Suddenly, the fur vest lady talks to the young woman seated next to me, and the girl gathers up her things to leave.  I discover that she has been asked to give up her chair for me.  I am horrified and insist that she stay, but she says sadly, “That’s OK.  All I did was arrange the transportation for the stars, so I don’t really need to be here.”  I think she might actually be leaving the party, and this fills me with a terrible guilt.   But short of making some weird scene or leaving myself, there isn’t really anything I can do.  Eddie arrives soon after and we enjoy a lively conversation with our tablemates, which include Jane Seymour, her sister Annie, and Sara, a young photographer from Entertainment Weekly.   Annie plays the role of “ugly maid” Patience in the movie, so they frizzed out her hair didn’t allow her to wear any make up for filming.  As a person who wears makeup daily, Annie was horrified.  She laughs as we praise her for her “brave performance.”

            The first reviews for the film have come in and they’re good ones.  Everyone keeps pulling out their phones to read the latest ones. There is a giddy buzz in the air.  Ricky wears his gorgeous suit, saying that if he had to clean it and carry it to Utah, he might as well wear it to something.  People wander from table to table, hugging and congratulating one another. Jennifer Coolidge, who wasn’t expected to make it, walks into the room and everyone breaks out in spontaneous applause. 

Tea with Famous Strangers

            Following the premiere, Austenland hosts a small tea for cast, crew, family and reps. It is a relaxed and intimate setting, and the cast is running around getting one another’s autographs on the small movie posters lying around.  We aren’t super jazzed about the poster design, but we discover that nobody knew they needed posters until yesterday, so this one was quickly thrown together and printed last night.  Classic Hollywood. 

See?  Boring.

            I made a promise several years ago, and it is here that I must fulfill it.  My dear friend Scott is a native New Zealander, and he made me promise that if ever I saw his hometown heroes from Flight of the Conchords, I would pass along his fondest regards.  Ignoring celebrities is much more my forte, but I gird myself and head over to Bret McKenzie for a quick chat.  Scott’s initial message to transmit has not been updated since 2009, so I make no mention of Bret’s performance in the movie we just saw, or any congratulations about his winning an Oscar last year.  (I later feel terrible about this.)  It quickly becomes apparent that neither of us knows where to take the conversation after this, and it limps along from charity stuff to asking what I do, which obviously gets us nowhere.  Finally, blessedly, he asks me where I live in Los Angeles, and it turns out we live in the same neighborhood.  With relief we talk about restaurants until Jane Seymour interrupts and I turn to chat with Eddie and Jared Hess, who are talking animatedly about a mutual friend.

            I am starving, so I carry a few tea sandwiches to our table, which is next to Stephenie Meyers’s.  Being gluten-free, I can’t actually eat the sandwiches normally, so I have to open them up and use my teeth to scrape off the filling.  I do this hurriedly, hoping no one notices.  This has garnered me approximately three tablespoons of food, so I just fill up on water.  I feel proud of myself for this, because it means I have followed the advice of my Sundance elders.  I think about my Mormon nieces, who worship Stephenie, and briefly entertain the idea of getting an autograph for them.  It is quickly jettisoned.  This is Shannon and Jerusha’s day, not Stephenie’s.  The focus should be on them.  Sorry, nieces. 

            Emmy the Great, who wrote and performed original songs for the film, does a charming set.  She is wearing an adorable cat ear headband.  After her set we keep awkwardly running into each other and smile shyly at one another as we pass.

            Shannon and her husband Dean come to join us and it is a thrill to see her so happy.  She says that her face hurts from smiling.  Shannon explains that as an author, you write books that people read and experience alone.  Your words enter someone’s mind silently and just sort of stay there.  This is wonderful, of course, but aside from letters from fans, you never really get the feedback of what impact your words have on someone, or how they felt reading a sentence that you worked particularly hard to craft.  Seeing your words in a film, and hearing the audience’s immediate reaction, is overwhelming in comparison.  Gratifying and moving and emotionally overwhelming.  Shannon remembers the give and take, the creative process of writing with another person.  Both she and Jerusha have the experience of thinking, “See, I knew that line would work!”  They are glad they fought one another for these lines.  They feel lucky that they work so well together.

            Later in the party we are talking to a group of people.  We look down to discover that almost all of us are wearing Sorel boots.  We laugh.  Ricky Whittle complains about dragging around all of the additional weight of winter gear.  “My legs are killing me!” he gripes.  Ricky reveals that this was his first premiere, so he packed a beautiful suit.  After arriving in Park City he did a google image search of Sundance premieres and realized his mistake.  He had to scramble to find an appropriately casual but attractive outfit to pull together.  He insists the boots are the most important part of the look, as it makes it seem “as if you didn’t try.” 

            With a few hours to kill before the next event, Eddie and I throw our coats back on and find food for me.  I am excited to check out the popup Udi’s Gluten-Free Table, only to find that it isn’t open.  In a haze of hunger, we wander into a barbeque place.  I order some kind of confusing potato skins with beans on top, and a margarita in a glass shaped like a cowboy boot.  I poked tiredly at my beans and lick the crust of salt from the glass rim like a farm animal.  I guzzle more water and remind myself to wash my hands more, although they are already so dry and chapped that my thumbs are forming cracks.  I mentally add hand lotion to the list of Sundance necessities and wonder why no one has mentioned it.  

Sundance Austenland Premiere

Sundance, Day 2:  The Premiere

Oh, Glory.  This is the good stuff.  Finally, a premiere.  This is the reason we are here.  Eddie’s client, the supremely talented Shannon Hale, is showing the film based on her novel Austenland.   Shannon co-wrote the script with Jerusha Hess, who made the film her directorial debut.   Instead of standing in line with the ticket holders, we are ushered into a special holding pen of sorts, where we relax and chat with Shannon’s family and her book agent, Barry Goldblatt, until a handler comes and ushers us into the theater.  We sit in a special reserved seating area for cast, crew, and family, so we are soon chatting with Jerusha’s parents and her husband Jared.  Further down our row is a shy, unassuming woman who seems close with Shannon and Jerusha.  We later discover this is Stephenie Meyer, part of the cadre of “little Mormon moms” who made this movie. 

In front us we see Jane Seymour quickly powdering her face before the photographers start shooting.  She is sitting with her sister, Annie Gould, who has one of my favorite roles in the film.  Keri Russell and Bret McKenzie are further down the row.  James Callis, Ricky Whittle, and JJ Feild sit a row or two behind.  Everyone is disappointed because Jennifer Coolidge and Georgia King are filming, so they have to miss the premiere.  It seems to be a tight-knit cast and crew.  Everyone is happy to see each other and seems a little giddy and giggly.

And then there’s the film.  When it was over, I turned to Eddie and gushed, “It’s everything I want in a romantic comedy!”  And it is.  I am very picky about my romantic comedies, but I unreservedly love this. It is so smart, and so funny.  Stellar performances, crackling dialogue, and wonderful chemistry and heart.  The audience absolutely eats it up, and we turn and see Shannon welling up with the immense joy that comes from hearing 1,200 people laughing the lines she wrote, the risky ones that she worried no one would get. 

When it’s over there is cheering, as well as a charming, goofy Q&A.  Jerusha is a gracious and confident speaker, inviting Shannon and Stephenie up to join her, as well as the cast.  Keri is shy and giggling and so it is Jerusha and Bret who take the lead.  Bret knows how to work a Q&A.  He’s funny and engaging and makes sure that everyone onstage gets a chance to say something.   Favorite moments of the Q&A:  Ricky Whittle’s audition story.  Jerusha’s deep embarrassment when her actors have to film kissing scenes.  And Bret and Keri are cousins?  A link to the Q&A is here.

We shuffle out of the theater and are normal people again, if a tiny bit more savvy.  We are learning to master the shortcuts.  Eying the packed shuttle stop, we walk a few blocks to a less crowded one.  I find myself chatting with an executive Eddie recognizes.  The conversation lags until I bring up real estate.  Angelenos always come alive when talk turns to housing or commuting.  I chide him when I discover he drives to work a half mile away from his house.  “You should know better,” I gently scold, then I feel bad.  Next to me Eddie is telling the story of a colleague who got scammed for Sundance housing last year.  After prepaying for his housing, he arrived to find that the address he had rented didn’t exist.  Other people on the bus chime into this conversation, in the same way people share their own versions of urban legends. 

Initially I was confused and frustrated by the entire concept of the festival.  Why would you host a film festival in the mountains in the middle of winter?  Why make it so difficult to get tickets?  Why all this unnecessary standing in line?  But I am starting to get it now.  In some ways, Sundance is a great equalizer.  Everyone stands in line, slogs through the snow, huddles under a heater to stay warm.  Even stars are hustling, trying to find financing or distribution for these films they believe in.  There is a sense of camaraderie that hardship brings, even if that hardship is simply slogging around with big boots and puffy coats. 

Sundance 2013: Day 1

Sundance, Day 1:

Because of the way Sundance is organized, nobody knows what has been selected until just a few weeks before the festival. By the time anyone realizes what’s going on, housing is already booked and there is a mad scramble to find a place to stay. Luckily, a friend from high school graciously invited us to stay with her and her family, even volunteering to drop us into town each day for various events. To start and end each day with this wonderful couple, their adorable son, and two enormous dogs is an incredibly grounding and relaxing counterpoint to the madness of the festival, and both Eddie and I find ourselves strangely emotional in our gratitude for this.

The night before the festival begins, Eddie takes me to his favorite restaurant in Park City, Chimayo. He has made the reservation weeks in advance, so we have a cozy little table next to the fireplace. We get to chatting with the waitress, who reveals that, like many businesses in Park City, Chimayo raises its prices during the festival, doubling their normal rates. We are relieved that our reservation was before the festival began. We finish our night with a final drink at the No Name Saloon, recommended by our hosts. The bar is a favorite of Park City locals, with great drink specials and a history dating back to 1903.

In the morning, our host Chris, an ex-Marine sniper, asks us if we’d like to go shooting with him at his gun club. Obviously, yes. What follows is an incredibly informative lesson on gun safety and proper shooting technique. With Chris’s patient teaching, we soon discover that I am, in fact, a naturally gifted marksman. Shockingly so. Shooting at paper targets is fun and I find the whole experience surprising similar to a tennis lesson.

We head downtown to the festival on a triumphant high with the realization of my newfound prowess with weaponry. I feel optimistic and ready to face the cold and line-standing, only to find that we don’t have to do any of that. In exchange for us picking up our friend’s pass for her, she allows us to use it until she arrives on Friday afternoon. This means we can buy tickets for films that are technically sold out, and it also means that we don’t have to get up at 5 AM to stand in line for anything. Not only does this mean that I actually get to attend the premiere of the movie that has brought us here in the first place; it means we actually get to see movies!  Many people come to Sundance and never see a single film, so this is hugely exciting. 

We run into Eddie’s client, a writer/director named Craig MacNeill, and his producer, Noah Greenberg. They showed a short film called HENLEY here last year, so they are now illustrious alumni. Their advice for first-timers: Drink lots of water. Use lots of hand sanitizer. And most importantly, don’t try to plan anything, because it’s impossible. Your best experiences at Sundance happen when you relax and roll with it. You run into someone on the street, your drinks run long, you suddenly get invited to a party. That’s when everything really happens. This is reinforced later in the evening when Eddie’s drinks with a producer he knows end up including me, a lawyer, and the producer’s writing partner. As we linger over drinks at Butcher’s, the producer tells us the story of last year’s Sundance, when he came to town looking for financing for a project, but could never get together with the potential financier. Finally, at the end of a party, the financier shows up at 4 AM, just a few short hours before the producer was set to fly home. Late night deals are made, the flight is cancelled, and the rest is history. “You just gotta roll with it,” he tells me, “Oh, and bring hand sanitizer."

Journey to Sundance 2013

Sundance, The Journey:

Sitting on the plane on the way to Sundance, I feel like I should be more excited, but Eddie has done a good job of managing expectations. He has referred to it as a “once in a lifetime” experience for me, because the prediction is that after I attend it once, I will never in my lifetime wish to return. From what I understand, it’s a lot of standing in freezing cold lines, digging through piles of coats to find yours, and getting sweaty from all the layers you are constantly wearing. Even LA on an off-day will be more glamorous.

We saw Tim Meadows in the security line and we figured he was heading to Sundance, but he’s not on our plane. I imagine celebrities are generally not big Southwest Airlines patrons, but who knows?

 I am a bit grumpy with Eddie. He should seriously not be allowed to plan any trips ever. How could he have planned his proposal to me so perfectly, but ignore any and all details when planning all subsequent trips? He is simply not trustworthy in these types of situations. Exhibit A: Eddie said he wanted to arrive early at the airport, so I planned accordingly, skipping breakfast with the intention of eating at the airport. Fast-forward to the 9:30 conference call he took before we left this morning, which meant we didn’t arrive at the terminal until just before 11, with an 11:55 departure time. My incredibly romantic Sundance brunch to begin our journey consisted of a McDonald’s chicken mcnugget value meal that I wolfed down hunched over in my seat in the few minutes before boarding. Do I regret this meal? Yes I do. Do I regret eating it so quickly? Yes in italics.

I should mention that Eddie hadn’t checked in for the flight beforehand. For some reason, he decided it wasn’t necessary, since Southwest doesn’t have assigned seating. Never mind the many gaping holes in the delicate web of this reasoning. In short, we checked in an hour before the flight, almost the last two people to board the plane. As a result, we are seated separately in two middle seats. Overhead compartments were all full, so our bags have been checked. Welcome to Sundance.

I’m seated between two photographers who are shooting the Chase photo booth at the festival. More of their fellow photographers are seated around them. Once I was seated, my seatmates eagerly continued their loud conversation across me, leaning forward and back to see each other around my head. I offered to trade seats with one so they wouldn’t have to talk across me, but they declined, explaining that one of them preferred window seats and the other preferred aisle. I, of course, cannot argue with this perfect logic, so I continue to be the centerpiece on a dining room table until one of them falls asleep.