I am now two days into the festival, and am having a grand old time. My film Pioneer premiered last night. As you can see from the pictures, I was, in fact, there. Any suspense over whether or not I would gain admittance to my own screening can be laid to rest, and here I must admit: I knew all along that I’d probably be able to get in. I was trying to construct some suspense to encourage readers to return for the latest installment in case my reportage was not sufficient enough on its own terms. I considered queuing up for the standby line anyway, just for the heck of it, but when it comes to this sort of thing I generally lack the courage of my convictions. I hung out in the green room, and then I took my seat.
The screening went as well as one could have hoped – which is to say, it was awesome. There are no words. Actually, there are, and plenty, but I’m too exhausted to type them. I got three hours of sleep after the screening, set out early for the Filmmakers’ Brunch, where I caught up with lots of old friends and made several new ones and listened to Robert Redford give a speech about shooting Jeremiah Johnson, and then hightailed it down to Salt Lake City to show the film again for the local audiences there. They, too, seemed to like it.
So far, I’ve seen one other film – Matthew Lessner’s charming philosophical treatise on hipsterdom, The Woods. Movie watching begins en masse on Monday. Tomorrow brings one more early morning and one more Pioneer screening, and also, perhaps, some sledding.