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2018 Sundance Film Festival

Opening Night, aka who the hell wants to be sexy at Sundance?

Still from HOWL.

So, I’m doing my schedule for this week and at one point I was wondering if Sundance was a film or a music festival. Seriously. ASCAP has a music series with LeeAnn Rimes, Joey + Rory and the Fray, along with like 20 others. Lyle Lovett is here, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, John Legend, you name it. And I am in heaven.

The festival has finally started — slowly. By tomorrow you won’t even be able to walk down Main Street without thinking horrible, dark thoughts about the couple in front of you who insists on strolling slowly down the narrow sidewalks, holding hands — and therefore holding up the foot traffic for miles. And the weather ain’t helping. Eight inches of snow dropped last night and they are expecting at least another six more tonight. Thank God for waterproof boots! Although, the amount of high heeled snow boots I’ve seen already is astonishing. I mean, seriously? Who the hell wants to be sexy at Sundance? It’s like picking up someone on the treadmill. Yech. I can’t wait for some of the lodge parties — where women insist on wearing high heels and skimpy outfits, even though they have to climb over six foot snowbanks to get in the front  door.  You’d think they’d just sign up for some filmmaking dating site or something and save themselves the frostbite. And the hangover.

Still from RESTREPO.

So anyhoo, the big opening night event is the HOWL premiere, the movie about Allen Ginsberg starring James Franco. Tickets are scarcer than sunflowers. Not that I mind. Allen Ginsberg always left me a little… cold. But I am psyched for the after party at the Village at the Lift. Now THAT should be fun. Especially as my crazy friend Gigi from Dallas is flying in for it. She is like a barrel of drunk monkeys rolled into a blonde bombshell. Not that I can go wild tonight — I have to be up early for press screenings of GET LOW and RESTREPO — the movie about soldiers in Afghanistan. A friend of mine who used to play for the New England Patriots said a bunch of his army/marine pals are actually in town for it. They are here for the movie and to ski before they ship out to Afghanistan. Again. Oy. Talk about a last hurrah.

Meanwhile, I’m still waiting on tickets for HAPPYTHANKYOUMOREPLEASE — which is supposed to be amazing. And am wondering if I should do some of the more ridiculous things in town — like going by something called the “TweetHouse” where apparently they have a bunch of people tweeting for Haiti (Seriously? I mean… come ON, people!) and talks with Adrien Grenier — the Ashton Kutcher of the indie set this year.

Sartorial update: I buckled down and bought a hat — even though my huge fur coat (which I have affectionately dubbed “The Wookie”) has a huge hood. Problem was, while the Wookie is warm, I couldn’t see or hear anything with the hood up. That, and I walked into a wall. Don’t ask.