Gary Dretzka
Leonard Klady
Emanuel Levy
David Poland
Doug Pratt
Ray Pride

At Movie City Indie, along with a few of the usual links to the anecdotal highlights of the day in indie, docs and foreign language films, please check a smattering of photos from the past week of Sundance.

What's that whooshing sound? Are they rolling up the sidewalks over on Park Avenue?

The sidewalks are uncrowded Friday morning while waiting on the steps of the Filmmakers' Lodge early Friday to talk to Travis Wilkerson about his contrary, anthemic next-to-no-budget ballad of Butte, Montana, Who Killed Cock Robin? The sun's beautiful in the thin, clear air. A couple nights earlier, a party was held for the movie in the nearby Park City Museum's basement, where the old Territorial jail rang with musicians playing songs from the film. (A nearby 19th century cell door was open, a cutout of George Bush smiling under a single bare bulb.) This particular morning, publicist Mickey Cottrell tells me about the party he was part-sponsor of the night before, an annual event called "Homo away from Home" at the centrally-located Queer Lounge. John Cameron Mitchell was deejaying, and someone from the crowd yelled, "Sing, John!" Mitchell started, "Oh, say, can you see?"-and led the room in a rousing rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner."

Werner Herzog believes in the spiritual value of walking great distances. Me, the night before, I'd taken the chance to walk home after the Q&A for the 11:30pm showing of Stephen Marshall's agit-prop This Revolution, a provociative refashioning of Haskell Wexler's 1969 Medium Cool, which was shot against the backdrop fo the 1969 Chicago Democaratic National Convention in Chicago. Working in 100 days from conception to final edit, Marshall and his conspirators shot footage in August and Sepetmber of protestors in Boston and New York in hopes of capturing whatever atmosphere the streets held. For one particular speech about class issues among protestors and in the real world, embodied by Rosario Dawson as a single mother whose husband died in Iraq, a long walk back to the condo seemed in order. Again, as others have remarked, the mountains seem to quietly, resolutely, absorb whatever fracas the day may have held, awaiting snow, reflecting starlight. As I gathered my thoughts, I had no idea that I would be locked out of my condo by a departing pal, whose cell number I did not have, but shinnying down a tree by moonlight and finding a different door open was the sort of absurd happenstance that matched so many moments and conversations I've had in the past week or so.

Later, in a long and conversational Friday, I talked to Marshall about how his experience making shorter, music-driven pieces for Guerilla News Network [www.gnn.tv] shaped This Revolution and the movie he's prepping now. Another invaluable Filmmaker Lodge panel found Roger Ebert leading Barbara Koppel and colleagues in a reminiscence of the breakthroughs of her 1976 doc, the Academy-Award-winning Harlan County, U.S.A. Meeting a jet-lagged Ross Kaufmann, whose co-directed Born Into Brothels: Calcutta's Red Light Kids (with Zana Briski) was at Sundance 2004 and was nominated for an Oscar on Tuesday, he shared a story about having just returned from Calcutta, where he showed the film to his now-older subjects, and watching the nominations with them, trying to offer them context for what that kind of notice might mean to their storytelling ambitions as well.

Deals, movies, swag, the occasional journalist-on-journalist dust-up (see end of column): all part of the scene and the reports back home, yet, like the Hollywood Reporter's Anne Thompson's consideration of movies like Who Killed Cock Robin? and This Revolution, the days and nights' many conversations are resoundingly optimistic about the present moment and its hopes for alternative-independent-underfunded-not-quite-Pollyannish filmmakers finding ways to get fresh perspectives. Some of the optimism comes from alternative means of production, using the next generation of camera and editing equipment, and alternative means of distribution, with a filmmaker like Hal Hartley starting his own DVD concern to get The Girl From Monday into the hands of an audience without an immense investment in prints and advertising. (Wilkerson talks about watching his apartment fill up with the first delivery of boxes of freshly manufactured DVDs of the debut of his Extreme Low Frequency label, a two-DVD collection of little-seen Cuban newsreel filmmaker Santiago Alvarez.)

But back to Werner, who joined the 75-year-old Frederick Wiseman in another of the invaluable panels on documentary practice earlier in the week: "Let's not speak about ideologies. There's a very clear, recognizable system of values that can be felt," he told Wiseman, "and I like that."

Finishing a column, I get calls about whether there are any more events, more chances to talk, plan, unwind: I just hope to be in good shape to savor the final, 8:30am screening on Saturday of the Devil and Daniel Johnston. Another 3 or 4 movies, closing night ceremonies, and it's time to go. Checking the schedule, I'm struck by how many titles sound alike: The Stranger, Strangers with Candy, Stranger than Paradise and Stronger. (Strenuous, okay.)

The many, many movie sales mean Sundance 2005 is more of a marketplace than ever, and Slamdance isn't far behind. Pretty Persuasion is one of the surprises for me, picked up for a reported million dollars or so by Roadside Attractions (Super Size Me, What the Bleep…?). It'll be a lesson to see how the savvy concern, led by Eric D'Arbeloff and Howard Cohen, with their partners, Samuel Goldwyn, market this dark, profane comedy, as 17-year-old Rachel Wood's carnival of verbal scat and agile abuse raises and quickly mows down all manner of hackles.

The dark side of Anthony Kaufman

Writing in his indieWIRE blog, Anthony Kaufman pauses to reflect on his heated encounter with another journalist; "At Sundance 2005, I lost my mind, but only briefly. Fortunately, my hysterics garnered me more fans than detractors, and yet for a moment there, I was not in control of myself. The story, of how the San Francisco Chronicle's Ruthe Stein stole my seat at a press screening of The Jacket and my subsequent vituperative attack, has already been recounted elsewhere by some bloggers… While I appreciate my 15 minutes of fame, I regret that I ever came to blows with Ruthe Stein."

Swag the Dog: slipping Scunci clips

Removing only the boldface from this morning's email: "SCUNCI ROCKED Sundance and celebrity's hair with their exclusive No-Slip Grip Jaw Clips COVERED in Swarovski crystals! SCUNCI created deliciously expensive and dazzling jaw clip hair accessories that they selectively gave to celebrities such as Pamela Anderson, Jenny McCarthy, Paris and Nicky Hilton, Keri Russell, Juliet Lewis and Erika Christensen…Jenny McCarthy's eyes lit up with the clip as she exclaimed: "I love SCUNCI - I'll wear it with pride- and do I get a flat screen TV to go along with this bling?" The clips are so expensive that Paris Hilton - Queen of $$cah-ching$$ - grabbed the largest purple crystal encrusted SCUNCI jaw clip, propped up her hair, posed for the camera and said: "IT GLOWS - THAT'S HOT!" Shannon Elizabeth wore her blue sparkling clip around her neck on her sweater ALL DAY! The clips are so hot - they could keep an ice cube warm!"

.