Might as well be Slam

 

So yesterday morning we took 300 press releases to the Sundance press office, hoping to stuff them into the mailboxes of the media reps there. Many reporters had asked us to do so.

press office

We met two very nice volunteers, who told us that they could not let us put the information in the mailboxes. (It seemed to be implied that if they could read the information first, they might revise their decision.)

volunteers

We asked for reasons. "Policy" and "this office is only for Sundance filmmakers" were the only ones offered. Our satire cilia were of course aroused.

We asked if the "no-press for Slumdance" policy was considered to be in the independent spirit of Sundance. That pissed them off.

"We used to like you guys," said one volunteer. That hurt.

Aware that we weren't going away, the volunteers ushered us into the back to talk to R.J., who was also very nice.

mid level

R.J. offered the same routine: "policy." He especially didn't like the "independent spirit of Sundance" question. We pressed for the motivation behind blocking us from the media, but we didn't hear anything that sounded like an answer.

Still R.J. remained professional and cordial (more so than us--sleep-deprived and paranoid, we were probably as bitchy as freshman Slamdancers), and he offered to let us see the Managing Director of the Sundance Film Festival.

We waited.

waiting

Nicole, the Managing Director, also extremely pleasant, came out. We sat on a bench to chat.

nicole lays down the law

Nicole didn't waste any time with vague institutional phrases. She came right out and said, "If we let you do this, we'll have to let Slamdance and every filmmaker in Park City do it, too."

We were floored. It was a pretty good reason. Our publicity-crazed brain hadn't thought of that. We were about to sigh, nod our heads, and say we understood when Nicole noticed the Vagrant with the camera.

nicole sees camera

She was upset. She looked at us with disappointment and quickly walked away. We were about to yell out, "Nicole! Stop! We've realized there's no satire here, except maybe on us!"

But it was too late. She was gone. And now we're worried Sundance won't love us anymore. We still love them.

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