This is my third year attending the Sundance Film Festival online. The first year they made their offerings available virtually I was beginning to address the health issues that would later necessitate that I attend Sundance, or indeed, any festival or film screening, remotely for the foreseeable future. But I started attending religiously during its second online year, and even in these past two years with slightly limited remote viewing options, it’s still the best virtual festival around for those of us with medical vulnerabilities and disabilities that keep us from other festivals. As most festivals across the country are closing or limiting their virtual offerings, Sundance still offers virtual screenings for all of their competition titles, short films, and a handful of other titles that the either the filmmakers or the distributors want to ensure receive the widest exposure possible.
Despite some technical difficulties on this first day of the online festival – of course my projector bulb would explode at the start of Sundance! – I was able to get my viewing schedule back on track with offerings from the NEXT section, the World Dramatic Competition, a Premiere, and the start of my look at short films at the festival. NEXT has often been one of the most intriguing sections at Sundance, narratively daring work that pushes the boundaries of what cinema is capable. I discover some of my favorite films each year in the World Dramatic section, so the titles here are always ones that I look forward to seeing. And premieres are often the buzzier films of the festival – big name directors or stars launching or attempting to sell their films for the first time.
Jack Begert’s Little Death (from the NEXT section) has an incredibly fascinating structure. The film is a narrative diptych exploring addiction, the pursuit of authenticity, and interpersonal relationships through two tonally disparate sections. In the first story, a screenwriter’s inability to face his own role in his growing unhappiness (not to mention his misogyny and his constant grievances) keep him locked away from any possibility of change. In the second story, two young adults caught up in unexpected violence discover the possibility for second chances through empathy and connection. One story uses surreal touches (including computer and AI-generated animation) to place us inside the character’s neurotic headspace. The other story is far more grounded and naturalistic, albeit with touches of comedy and absurdism. The two pieces may not fully fit together, but it’s certainly an intriguing experience.
Daniel Hoesl and Juliane Niemann’s Veni Vidi Vici (from the World Competition) is a ruthlessly dark comedy about the ways in which the wealthy are able to prey upon society. The film is filled with absolutely striking visual compositions – brilliant and eye-catching color (or the absence of it), the use of static frames and precise staging to suggest the film’s varying levels of power and hierarchy. Because the narrative is so firmly situated from the point of view of the rich family, we’re never given the victim’s perspective, and the film is missing some of the pointed class critique that it seems to be attempting. When it comes to examining systems that enable the wealthy to maintain their power, it’s just scratching the surface. Still, there are some pointed jabs at the ways the wealthy attempt to shape society and pass their own warped and twisted family values (mainly their entitlement) on to their children. It’s a very enjoyable, if deeply flawed satire.
Josh Margolin’s Thelma is an absolutely charming action/comedy about a 93-year-old woman determined to retrieve the $10,000 scammers stole from her. From the pitch-perfect score and the brilliant editing rhythms to the delightful ways action movie tropes are reimagined for the nonagenarian set, the film is such a lovely viewing experience. June Squibb is magnificent in the titular role, exuding a fierce, prickly independence that is contrasted by the warmth and kindness she can show her grandson (and strangers on the street she is certain she’s met before). The film also manages to provide a thoughtful meditation on aging (and the limitations that come with it) without ever getting maudlin. What a wonderful film.
From the shorter side of things, today I caught Phoebe Jane Hart’s Bug Diner, a clever and funny, crude and yet tender work of short animation. The animation is wonderful, the pacing and quick cuts are fantastic. However, once the main joke of the film is revealed, the short quickly overstays its welcome, but it’s still thoroughly entertaining.
