Sundance Film Festival
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Thursday. Mar 09, 3:48 AM
(Part two) Beastie Boys and snowy chats.

Okay so I got my wish. The Burton-sponsored Beastie Boys presser is at 4pm. I still need to do an interview on the MUST HAVE movie as per my contacts in New York. I arranged to have them meet me early outside the presser along with my camera and audio guys. This sounds like the perfect plan, right? Please.

After we make our way up a mountain, we spot a small red Burton tent, but it still doesn’t click. I’m looking around to figure out which building the presser must be in. I find a boarder wearing Burton gear. They lead me into the tiny red tent. We’re the first crew to show up, only to be greeted by a bunch of grinning snowboarders. Of course they’re happy. They’re bundled up against the elements: all kinds of weather and cold proof. I’m standing there instantly pissed that I not only have to worry about all the shit I have to do, but I also have to keep the gear dry and warm enough to operate, deal with pissed off, cold crew guys, AND it’s dawning on me that my most important interviewees are from a very warm climate. They’ll hate me for this for sure. I hear the cowboy shootout music in my head. This is the West, after all. Great. I wish they’d stop grinning.

I stake out my spot for the presser with duct tape on chairs and get one of the grinningteenboarders to physically stay there holding my place until I’m done with my interview outside. The cheerleader in charge of seating press glowers at me but I don’t care. My interview subjects are late. After five frantic phone calls from their publicist, I spot them tromping uphill toward me in the snow. They must hate my ass. Because of the altitude change, they are so out of breath they look like they walked all the way from South Africa. Their publicist is about 10 feet behind them wearing high-heeled boots and a short fur coat. This is obviously her first time at the festival.

We do the interview with skiers and boarders flying down the mountain toward us in the background. I look for a barrier and there isn’t one. Oh good. If someone wipes out they could very well come crashing into us. My subjects are innocently searching my face. Good thing they can’t read my mind. The second the camera starts rolling, it starts to snow big, wet heavy flakes. The snowflakes hit their faces, melting and rolling like tears. I am suddenly struck by their spirit.

Just think how much spirit it takes. Not only to make a film, but to get it into Sundance and touch down in Park City, Utah ready to network the shit out of it. My South African friends are outwardly frozen, lips blue and all. But they don’t care. The second they start talking about their film, there is this warmth between them. I can feel it bouncing off them, mixing with the childlike glimmer in the eyes of the actress. I become serene, remembering why I cover this godforsaken festival every year. Yeah, my ass is still frozen and exhausted, but all year I seek out the indie spirit wherever I can cuz it feeds my soul and drives my ambition. The actor, director, and producer prove good sports, letting us get B roll of them walking together in the snow. I’m sure they’d rather be inside by a fire, sipping wine. Me & my crew go back to the tent to cover the Beastie Boys presser.

Smiling inside, I feel lucky that the spirit of Sundance is alive and well in me even though it left the founders a long time ago.

The conference goes well: I even muster the courage to ask a question. When I do, I purposely avoid the gaze of Mike Horowitz (knowing damn well I had a crush on him in junior high). I survive my five-minute one-on-one with them without acting like a giggly school girl. While loading the gear into the truck, I’m pleased that everything’s going so well. At that exact moment, my camera guy mentions that he’s not sure of the audio for the MUST HAVE movie interview. We already released the audio guy, so it’s dawning on me that we have to round them all up again and I’ll have to act as audio and producer. Good thing I’ve been planning for months to keep this kind of shit from happening.

For the next two hours I get the publicist back on the phone, figure out another place to meet, do a site survey, eat at Wendy’s, and think of a good excuse why we want a second interview (besides the jackass camera guy). Here we are again, minus the sound guy. The boom is balanced across my lap. I have to sit close enough to them so they can hear my questions above the restaurant din, but far enough away so my ‘fro doesn’t eclipse the shot. I’m balanced so I have an inch of leeway before I slide off the couch and bust my ass in front of god & everybody. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the woman who does my hair in another city. She and her friends are all peering at me as if to say “what the hell are you doing?!” With their eyes boring holes in me, I somehow get through the interview. On my way out the door, I look up to see the actress, director, and producer sipping wine by the fire. All is well in the world. Lemme get my self outta here before that changes.
festival.sundance.org

Alana Yorn

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