Notes from Sundance

It’s been almost a week since I made it home from the icy chills of Park City. After a handful of  naps, and a few days back in the office, it’s surreal to think it all happened just a few days ago. I saw over a dozen movies (thanks to Sundance’s virtual accessibility), made numerous new friends, ran into old ones, and survived on coffee and Clif bars. Before I get sappy, let’s get to the movies!

Cassandro

Gael García Bernal has the time of his life as Saúl Armendáriz, an exótico luchador who defies the contradictory masculine nature of wrestling to become a cultural phenomenon in 1980s Mexico. It’s rare to see a strong, free-flowing mother-son relationship, and here it’s layered beautifully with the intersectionality of lost love, gender roles, inner prejudice, and the pursuit of dreams. All that aside, the film never once opines itself as Oscar bait with grandiose speeches and over-the-top sentimentality. Williams makes the jump from documentary to narrative with as much dexterity as Bernal displays in the ring in this empathetic and powerful portrait of a man who chose to be himself against the odds.

AUM: Cult at the End of the World

AUM starts like a horror film: garbled police audio, staticky screams, sirens, and a pulsing sense of doom. It’s unfortunate this two-hour doc fails to maintain that impression for the rest of the film. The filmmakers know we all love cults, so naturally this true and terrifying story should be a hook, line, and sinker. It layers every fact and trace of AUM, without any of the layered questioning that a documentary like this should ask: what turns man into monster? How could the government let this happen? How do we deal with personal and collective grief? After an intense journalistic pursuit tracking the yoga guru-turned cultist, the film tops it off with what feels like a gross negligence and betrayal of audience trust when they finally address that the second most prominent interviewee is the remorseless second-in-charge cultist.

Radical

This incredible true story about a compassionate teacher using unorthodox methods to cultivate a passion for learning in overlooked kids in violence-ridden Matamoros, Mexico is unfortunately watered down with thin characterizations and a plaguing, undying belief in its lead’s experimental ways. "Radical" is an easy crowd-pleaser that relies on sentimentality and earnestness to pull at the heartstrings, but doesn't try anything new with how it tells the story. Eugenio Derbez fully commits to the role, reeling you in with his big-eyed charm and commitment to the film’s plea for a change in how we approach education. The film never attempts to add narrative complexity by providing doubt to the teacher’s methods, and instead tells us that everything will be okay, because he’s the good-natured teacher with enough passion to change the world – one student at a time. 

Fair Play

Holy shit if this movie didn’t grab me buy the throat and not let go until it’s breathtaking final shot. Do I care about hedge funds? Absolutely not. But apparently, I care enough about a hedge fund couple to worry about their secret relationship being torn up after one of them is promoted. This film expertly weaves financial analytics and the toxic Wall Street bro culture into a riveting, occasional erotic thriller that expertly dissects power and gender dynamics within this white-collar industry that spits out money as fast as it can people. Keep your eyes peeled for this from Netflix (they bought it for a whopping $20 million). 

Joyland 

A revelatory film following a jobless man who finds himself falling for a trans woman after he becomes her back-up dancer. Joyland’s title may be deceiving—a place that doesn’t exist, where one may expect joy to exist ad infinitum, where family troubles, gender roles, and cultural oppression keep us from those moments of life-giving euphoria. What this film might be pursuing is the belief in holding onto those pure moments of joy before others take it away—and especially before we take it away from ourselves. Oscilloscope picked this one up, so don’t sleep on this quietly profound film. 

Run Rabbit Run

Let’s get the elephant out of the room—Netflix is so desperate for half-reputable content after it’s near-endless barrage of cheaply produced television shows and half-baked films, that it’s desperate for anything with the smallest amount of acclaim. Cue an unhinged Sarah Snook and “elevated horror” tropes: Inexplicable things happen! Vague symbolism! A mysterious yet cut animal! Hints at family drama! Denial of lived-in trauma! Spooky shots of a vast landscape! Potentially careless use of mental illness! Did I mention the creepy kid? And to that person who let out a very audible sigh about halfway through the screening—I feel you.  

Mutt

A riveting day-in-the-life piece set in NY as Feña, a trans man, navigates the purgatory of relationships hanging by a thread. In a city as big as New York, what are the odds that everyone in your life is going to show up on the same day? An ex pops up at the neighborhood bar; the fragile younger sister ditches school; a father with traditional values lands at JFK in a few hours. It’s a beautiful film that reminds us of the power that one day can have over our lives, and the importance of communication, listening, and trying to understand each other. 

Divinity

One of the strangest films out of Sundance, this B&W Soderbergh-produced film combines arthouse sci-fi akin to Panos Cosmatos, German Expressionistic design, and the lo-fi aesthetics of 1970s-1980s sci-fi to create a lost dream from another world. This hauntingly beautiful exploration of humanity’s pursuit of immortality makes us question the cost of immortality, and the loss of humanity that follows. To give life or give love – that is the question at the heart of the film. What else is there after we achieve immortality? Perhaps, when time becomes nothing, we are robbed of the importance of embracing what little time we have. 

Rotting in the Sun

Anyone stuck on their phones during the pandemic have probably seen the bite-sized reels of Jordan Firstman impersonating everything from straight guys bragging about their grills to a ketchup bottle being turned upside down. It’s hard to accurately describe this film. It’s an experience best had with a crowd; at times a hilarious evisceration of social media celebrities and “Edgy” artists who read too much Camus or Nietzsche, and other times a drama about the working class trapped between artist egos. Oh, and it has a few dozen dicks. Do with that what you will. 

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Now, for a little reflection:

It was my first Sundance. I tried to keep my expectations low. Expectations, after all, are the death of enjoyment. Nevertheless, on my way to an Indiewire party, I was hyped. I got in, grabbed a free Stanley mug… and felt claustrophobic amongst the stylish and flashy world of what I could only glean as Instagram models and producer-types who were for some reason wearing expensive leather shoes in the snow. I quickly bailed the cliquey nature of the event and hopped next door to a country dive bar where I tried for a second time to meet people as a stranger in a strange land.

I must give cheers to the unexpected nature that is life. I spent the next five(?) hours there, jumping from conversation to conversation, person to person, pint to pint. I met people who inspired me in ways I didn’t realize I needed. A group showed up late into the night and someone saw my brand-spanking-new sweater and shouted ,“You know, Hyperreal?!!” And so, we gushed about this incredible, life-giving community that celebrates film in ways that not even Sundance can capture. The infectious enthusiasm we shared about film screenings in a dive bar while amongst the glitz and glam of Sundance proves one thing: no one does it like Hyperreal. It’s not about the red carpets and photographers—it’s all about the people. The endless passion infused with the collective experience in the celebration of the oddballs and outcasts in cinema has no bounds. Hold on to people like that. 

Coming back to town after what felt like summer camp in below-freezing temperatures, I found myself jazzed to get back to making movies with people I’ve met through Hyperreal and beyond. That pure joy is as liberating and cozy as a warm hug in the snow.