Brightest Young Things

Tig Notaro dropped the idea of BYT hanging out with her at Sundance late last year, and when we heard our friends in Animal Collective were going to be out there for the release of their new movie, Oddsac, we figured it might be a good idea to make the trip.  Jason and I booked our flights and hustled our press passes and then began the supposedly hellish search for Park City accomodations.  We mentioned to a friend that we were headed to Sundance.  He happened to have a brother-in-law who has a place out here.  Phone calls were made and we were graciously offered a place to stay in Deer Valley.  At what I can only describe as the Snow Palace:

Tired and weary after a long flight, we drove directly from Salt Lake City to our humble abode in Deer Valley.  After an hour of navigating the steep mountain terrain, we got to the house and met up with the folks that we were to stay with for the first four days of our trip.  Then we promptly went to bed anticipating an early wakeup to pickup our press credentials.

We had a little extra time around the house the next morning.  The crew we were with was kind enough to make us a microphone for our press-line interviews as a welcome gift.  It was fashioned out of spare parts from around the Snow Mansion.  Old lift tickets, aluminum foil, last night's party wrist bands, BYT stickers and a paper towel roll.

We figured the least we could do was make them a press credential to help them get behind the scenes with us.  We also fashioned it out of household items including festival guides, gaffer tape, pictures of Redford and expired Sundance tickets.  Notice the resemblance to the real one on the right:

Our first night out at Sundance was at Village at the Yards space, where we went to a dinner/party for some movie whose name is escaping me.  We were placed at a table with about 30 models and six nightclub owners.  It was definitely weird, but the food was amazing.  After dinner we were shuffled outside while they turned the space into a setting for a 500-person dance party, packed with celebrities and industry folks.  The self-importance was so thick in the air that you could cut it with a knife.  Our crew, being neither from LA nor New York and having no movies to promote, was left to our own devices to party and stargaze and have a good time: 

A few years ago I traveled around South East Asia.  I ended up befriending an actor named Dov Tiefenbach who was on hiatus from Hollywood during the actor's strike.  Dov and I spent three days on the back of scooters, tripping around Saigon and the Mekong Delta playing with snakes, shooting guns, crawling through underground Viet Cong tunnels and taking Pho cooking classes.

[myspace]http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=26106440[/myspace]

Imagine my surprise when I bumped into Dov at a party here at SD.  He's in a new movie called Sympathy for Delicious, directed by Mark Rufolo and starring Orlando Bloom and Juliette Lewis. 

I hadn't seen Dov since our days in 'Nam so we decided to have a reunion up at the Snow Mansion and do some sledding:

But back to the party, which was some sort of cast party for some movie, sponsored by Renaissance Hotels.  Mark Rufolo was there with the cast of the new movie.

Orlando Bloom rolled into the party while we were having dinner.  Of course, the group of girls whose place we are staying at went apeshit along with every other girl in Park City, Utah.  A little later, I was talking to Orlando and some girl when another woman came up and whispered something into his ear.  A look of panic washed across his face and he said "Johnny Depp just died!" and literally ran out the door. 

I assumed whoever told him this was a credible source, so I told Jason and Peter, who twittered it, etc.  Apparently we weren't the only people who'd caught Johnny B. Dead fever, the internet had gone up in flames with rumors of a car accident involving lots of alcohol.  As the wildfire that was Johnny Depp's supposed demise spread across Sundance parties (and the entire internet), we too departed the shindig, fearing that the megastar's untimely passing would cast an irreversable pall over the festival.  Thankfully, the same rapid-fire global gossip community that allows rumors to travel so quickly around the world also has the power to filter said rumors and debunk that which is not actually true.  On our car ride back to the Snow Mansion, we were able to discern with some accuracy that Johnny Depp is, indeed, still with us.  From The Huffington Post:

LOS ANGELES — A publicist says Johnny Depp is still very much alive after being the subject of an online hoax.  Robin Baum, who represents the 46-year-old actor, said Monday that Internet reports of Depp's death over the weekend in France were a horrible rumor.  Baum calls the hoax the work of an irresponsible and unconscionable person, especially since children and families are involved.  Depp has two children with his partner, Vanessa Paradis.

So there you have it, folks, Depp died and rose anew at Sundance faster than Jesus Christ himself.  You gotta love a guy with that sort of resilience.  If only the same could be said for the 'irresponsible and unconscionable' hoax-monger, Orlando Bloom.

We spent the next day skiing at Deer Valley, since the Snow Palace was literally ski in/ski out.  It had dumped snow all week so we were treated to pretty much the freshest powder any of us had ever seen.  Here's what made it even better, though.  Apparently nobody skis in Utah during Sundance.  Everyone's so busy watching movies and  buying furry clothing items and doing deals and whatever else it is they're doing that they don't have time to ski.  There mountain was EMPTY.  We never had a line for a chairlift and it really felt like we were skiing alone.

And an apres ski dip in the hot tub for good measure.  The largest hot tub I've ever seen.

The next morning, Jason and I were waiting in line for a free meal at Village at the Yards, the gifting suite where talent goes to get free shit and free meals and other perks.  Basically companies line up to give away free anything to celebrities in the hopes that they will wear or use the shit sparking frenzied consumerism among the masses of non-celebrities.  We could have sworn we saw Samuel L. Jackson pick out one of these furry jockstraps. 

Tom Arnold (of Roseanne fame) arrived and started chatting with Jason about his love (and hate) of expensive eyewear.  He was wearing a pair of Kala Eyeglasses and although I walked up halfway into the conversation, I caught the tail end of a story about how Tom Arnold's fiance's dad had the same glasses and he liked them so much that he had to get them, too.

 I kind of got the feeling that he has some sort of celebrity endorsement deal with Kala, because he really wanted us to take pictures of the pair he was wearing and drop the name of the brand.  So here you go, Tom: TOM ARNOLD WEARING KALA EYEWEAR)

We got a call from Animal Collective asking us to pick up some musical equipment from Beachhouse, who were playing a show at the Star Bar, since the two bands would be passing through Park City like ships in the night.  Star Bar is the Park City version of the Black Cat.  Only with more furry jackets and Sorel boots.

We caught about half of Beachhouse's set before our crew called to tell us that they had somehow scored VIP passes for who else but Wale.  Of course Wale would be at Sundance playing HarryO's, which is the Park City equivalent of Ibiza or Love or whatever giant, pounding nightclub people go to these days.

It was great to see our hometown hero killing it in front of a thousand non-DMVians.  They were eating out of the palm of his hand.  Terrell Owens was in the house along with Questlove and Birdman and a bevy of other celebrities that some DJ happily announced before each song. 

You can't end your night in Park City without a ride in a Hummer Limo.  It's just so Sundance.  I have no idea how we ended up in this thing or whose it was, but we got a ride to our cars with it. 

Meanwhile, Peter was on the other side of town hanging with Adrian Brody and the fanciest goddamn Sundance sweater you've ever seen.  He recapped the events later on in the evening with Tig.

Peter: Can I just say that Adrian Brody is a fantastically handsome man.

Tig: Isn’t he the one with a wonky nose that hangs off on the side?

Peter: Yes, but it works for him.

Tig: Wow, you’re really into him.

Peter: And his sweater was amazing.

Apparently, Peter is bored of starfucking (lies) and writing movie reviews so he wrote some up as free verse sonnets.

Howl

If most biopics walk that bilious tightrope
between lying and passably unnecessary
reality, Howl swings on the flying trapeze
ditching both true and false for thought and feeling.

Which is what a poem is, does, but even
bad poems have brains and hearts.
The story of the trial and life behind the writing
are spritzed like old spice on dramatic readings

Of Howl the poem, sexy but messy.
Howl the movie, animated away from
History's Ginsberg, who contained multitudes,
to Frango's Ginsberg, who contains a Ginsberg

Imitation. What is acting but faking it?
What is writing but biting off
                                                            more than you can chew?

Sins of the Fathers

Pablo Escobar was a total shithead, except
when he was building soccer fields.
Classic gangster story, but what happens
to the young son of the antihero

Once papa's bleeding? Revenge is sworn
in anger, then retracted, years
of hiding, restarting, in Argentina?
What if he wants to return

To the homeland, to apologize
face to face with the sons of the men
his father had murdered? Stand
in a room and tell them “I'm sorry”? How?

More than a movie, more than a documentary
even—this is the possibility of national healing.

Killer Inside Me

WATCH as Casey Affleck blandly noirish
spanks and fucks the town whore (Miss J. Alba)
to death, then does the same to Miss K Hudson,
bare assed, bleeding faces pleading for more!

GRIMACE with secret glee at the killers confidence,
evading persecution, raining vengeance on
pussy Texan polite society, frying
weak and strong together like so many eggs!

SQUIRM as he shifts to apologizing,
recalling his childhood sexual trauma!
Jessica Alba walked out of the premier,
Director left to stutter through Q&A.

Last song playing over the conflagration--
croons “Shame On You.” What, are you talkin to me?

There's more Sundance to come, kids.  Stay tuned for the next installment, wherein we downgrade our accomodations, Peter sonnetizes reviews for a host of new movies, Jeff hits the paparazzi line for some Katie Holmes snaps, Tig lands in Utah and perhaps we'll even throw in an interview with Louis CK.

Previously in Tangents:

• 12/28: Terrible Boyfriend/ Girlfriend Generator.
• 11/2: PHOTOS: TAXLO Halloween (feat. Chain Gang of 1974)
• 10/10: #OccupyWallStreet
• 8/10: PHOTOS: Lawn Mover Racing, Eastern Seaboard Regionals @ Bowles Farm
• 7/26: Special List: Things the BYGays Want Now That We Can Marry In DC (and NY!)
• 7/20: PHOTOS: Artscape
• 7/19: Miho Hatori's Guide to New York City
• 4/11: Cirque Du Soleil: Totem (A Review)
• 12/29: War, Reenacted
• 12/29: What in Hell is Slaughterama?!?