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Every winter, 8,000 feet above sea level in the Utah snow, the hopes and dreams of young moviemakers are put on display at the Sundance Film Festival--the haven for independent films where you can show up a kid and go home a star. In barely twenty years of existence, the festival--now overseen by Robert Redford's Sundance Institute--has assumed tremendous importance for today's film culture: during the annual ten-day event, tiny Park City is so overrun by agents, publicists, studio executives, and other Hollywood types that in 1988 they blew out the town's cell-phone relay system.
About the author
John Andeson, chief film critic for New York Newsday, attended his ninth Sundance in 1999, but this time he did more than screen films and leap for tables at overbooked restaurants. He interviewed performers and filmmakers of all kinds, including top prize winners, but also uncovered the effect of all this ballyhoo on the indie film scene--and on the bemused Park City locals. Alongside the thoughts of Diane Lane, Steve Buscemi, Mike Figgis and other distinguished film people are conversations with festival volunteers, bus drivers, policemen, shopkeepers, and more. Together, they form the most candid, most fascinating, most hilarious, and most human-sized coverage of the Sundance Film Festival ever achieved. Join John Anderson as he goes...Sundancing.
David Morgan is the author of Monty Python Speaks! (Spike, 1999) and editor of Sundancing (Spike, 2000). He has written on film production and media issues for a variety of publications. Mr. Morgan lives in New York City.
Summary
Every winter, 8,000 feet above sea level in the Utah snow, the hopes and dreams of young moviemakers are put on display at the Sundance Film Festival--the haven for independent films where you can show up a kid and go home a star.
In barely twenty years of existence, the festival--now overseen by Robert Redford's Sundance Institute--has assumed tremendous importance for today's film culture: during the annual ten-day event, tiny Park City is so overrun by agents, publicists, studio executives, and other Hollywood types that in 1988 they blew out the town's cell-phone relay system.
