WWRRD? – What would Robert Redford do? That evened the crucial question at the Sundance Film Festival, which closed on February 1st after a long and, at least on the side of the locals and most staff members, reluctant goodbye to Park City. Even though the leading independent Film Festival originated in Salt Lake City, Park City had become its true home after, according to anecdote by suggestion of Sydney Pollack, it moved there in 1981. Many, from festival volunteers to hotel employees to Uber drivers, worry what will happen without the economic loss of the festival season. It’s another harsh blow for a region that feels the impact of climate change.
The snow is melting, and the Great Salt Lake is rapidly drying out; urgent themes addressed in Sara Dosa’s contemplative nature documentary Time and Water about melting glaciers and fading memory, and Abby Ellis’ uncomfortably pious call to action, The Lake. Addressing subjects that feel locally alarmingly close, yet in the rush of the festival utterly removed, both films feel emblematic of the festival’s ability to emanate an air of social consciousness and fairness while struggling with the same – or just its own variation of – hierarchies, inequalities, and power structures as in place in Cannes or Venice. The most glaring symptom thereof are the red badges. Priority passes are not earned by extensive and high-quality pre-work, but with money.
They are available for high-paying donors and those who can afford to pay $10k+ for a whole festival edition. These are the rules of the game in a film festival landscape dependent on private donations rather than state funding. Regardless, every screening precedes a special Sundance trailer promising that the festival would keep Robert Redford’s vision alive. But the festival founder’s death last year has many questioning if that vision really was having big stars and big-budget productions overshadow many of the less prominent works. Once eponymous with small-scale productions outside the then all-powerful studio system with little budget and no high-profile names attached, the term “independent film” now covers a confusingly broad range.
An independent film can be anything from Ian Tuason’s $500,000 horror breakout hit Undertone, shot in his own home with essentially three actors, to multimillion-dollar productions like the Olivia Colman-led fantasy tale Wicker or the star-spangled couple comedy The Invite. Festival goers flocked to both films’ premieres, with the number of priority pass owners far exceeding that of the seats reserved for them. As a result, dozens of visitors with reserved tickets were sent away after waiting almost an hour in freezing cold. Even at ultra-classist Cannes, scenarios like this are the absolute exception; this Sundance seemed to be closer to the norm. The astronomical prices for tickets alone draw a sharp economic line as to who can attend.
While there are inclusion initiatives, they reach only a small fraction of potential visitors. Not only the scale of the film productions, but also that of the event itself was a cause of debate. At least at three different events, festival speakers quoted Robert Redford’s daughter who said: “My father could have built an empire. Instead he built a nest.” This nest that hatched a number of international film careers has now outgrown the compact ski resort and is ready to resettle in a place ten times its size. Still, the quality of films is higher than at any other of the five leading A-list festivals, even though the 42nd edition couldn’t quite compete with last year.
The strong documentary program shone with Everybody to Kenmure Street, Who Killed Alex Odeh? and The Brittney Griner Story. Midnight Movies are still the hidden gems of the festival, showcasing horror highlights like Buddy, Rock Springs, and Leviticus. Repression—historical, religious, social, sexual, and psychological—was an overarching theme, resonating through all festival sections. The second noticeable motif was conflict of individuals set against a powerful majority or system. When it comes to the films themselves, Sundance can still feel timely, urgent, and open to new voices. But it’s more and more exclusive, hierarchical, and closed-off once one leaves the movie theater. That is, if one got inside at all.
All Awards are listed here.
