Spiderman, Organ Failure, and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police

I know, it makes no sense. Allow me to explain:

The Sundance Film Festival arrived and departed Utah last month. As usual the festival was accompanied by a plethora of fun filled and feckless moments;

Tina, Dena and Slave Driver stood first in line for the Awards party, trying to get in early by using lines like, "We're with the band," and "We're Elmo's stylists…" And while none of the falsehoods worked, we did enjoy making the uber-trendy fellow behind us mutter, "They're sucking out all of my energy," accompanied by an eye roll and a heavy sigh. Which just goes to show you that many moms consider themselves successful if they can not only embarrass/annoy their own child, but can accomplish the same feat with someone else's offspring. Truly, it separates the amateurs from the professionals.

There were some wonderful films. At least that's what I heard. I only saw three, (Being Elmo; Submarine; Buck) one of which I was not a fan (Note to the distributers of "Submarine": while I'm sure based on the fact that the Joe Dunthorne book was popular it seemed like a good idea to turn it into a movie, may I suggest avoiding marketing this film to parents. "Why?" ask the savvy Free Marketeers. "Because," responds Slave Driver, "as the parent of a teenager, I can get all the drama and angst I want at home. For free."

And while I loved both "Being Elmo" and "Buck", many times for me the "real" entertainment is out in the lobby of the theater, not inside where the screen is.

For example, the first Sunday of the evening tends to be pretty tame at our humble Salt Lake venue. After all, most of the beautiful people are in Park City attending premiers, parties, and collecting as much swag as they can pile onto their publicists. Several of us were standing around, waiting for Alexi to introduce our last show of the evening, when in through the doors walked three scruffy looking young guys. After tilting my head and squinting real hard, I realized one of them was Tobey McGuire. They asked if they could still get into the film, Like Crazy, (which eventually won an award.) Luckily for them, it was Sunday night in Salt Lake, the film had not generated a ton of buzz yet, and the house had not achieved critical mass. Miguel grabbed some tickets for them while I escorted the trio to available seats and Alexi made her way to the stage and introduced the film. It was fun having a "name" in the house, and without any of the hoopla and posturing normally associated with arriving celebrity.

On the other hand, the closer we get to the end of the festival, the more intense and downright crazy-ass people become. For example, on the following Sunday, while the theaters in Park City play a lot of the award winners along with a few random screenings of festival fare, the Rose Wagner is the only other venue still showing films in the valley, besides the Sundance Resort, which is way the heck up in Provo Canyon. So where do you think all the local pass holders go? Yeah, that's right, they come to the Rose. Which is great. I mean, we love our regular, loyal, treat them like family, local pass holders. And as hard as it is for you to believe, I am actually being sincere. I get hugs from my regulars. However, the sheer number of locals that decide to show up at our theater the last day plays havoc with the ticketing system and throws all the computer generated models out the window. And what that means is:

The theater gets filled really fast and even if you arrive on time and you have a ticket, you still may not get in.

Which makes people really cranky. As you can imagine.

So on this particular day, for a movie called "Win, Win" starring Paul Giamatti, we turned a few folks away. Although unhappy, most of them were very gracious about it, having played the Sundance Shuffle before. Except for one guy. Claiming, loudly, to be a "Film Critic", he insisted that he was to be allowed to see the movie because he was a major asshat and was full of himself had interviewed Paul Giamatti. Alexi spent a long time with him, being very respectful, repeating over and over that since there was no place for him to sit, he would not be allowed into the theater. The gist of his reply was 1) he was a film critic 2) who had interviewed Paul Giamatti 3) from a foreign country 4) so we MUST LET HIM INTO THE THEATER, NOW, to see this film because 5) he had interviewed Paul Giamatti, and we had not. Plus he claimed to know the festival manager, which makes us shrug, because we too know the festival manager, and he does not make us tremble.

While listening to him rant at Alexi, I realized that the foreign country he hailed from was "Douchebagestan."* Knowing the only way to extract her from the situation, short of chewing her arm off and dragging her away, was to advise the Foreign Film Critique/ Paul Giamatti Interviewer point blank, that there was no seat available for him (I had already checked) and Alexi was done wasting spending her time explaining this to him because I needed her elsewhere.

Later, during an exchange in which I attempted to be nice (don’t snicker, I can fake it when I need to) the Film Critic proceeded to tell me that he would make sure that I would never work in the movie industry again (an industry I hadn’t realized I was employed in, being that I volunteer for the festival once a year and drive horse drawn carriage the remained of the time) and, after offering to have the sheriff escort him off the premise if he wished to make trouble, he countered with sending the Royal Canadian Mounted Police my way to arrest me.

I honestly had no idea the RCMP had jurisdiction in Utah. It just goes to prove that you can learn something new every day.

And last but not least, on the same evening, one of the other managers had to turn another patron away for a showing of a different film. Upon being advised that they were unable to attend the film, this patron told the other manager that they were in charge of the organ transplant department at a local university (I'm not telling you which one; it has a medical school, and their mascot's names rhymes with "fruits") and the manager better hope for the rest of his life that he never needed and organ transplant, because he would be denied. ** Hippocratic oath be damned!

Sigh…and eye roll.

So, I'm sure the title of this blog makes sense to you now.
I have to go, I need to hide from the Mounties while I look for a new kidney on eBay. It never hurts to hedge your bets.

*Not a real country. And although he threatened me with the RCMP I know he cannot be Canadian because all the Canadians I know are very nice. With the exception of one. But she doesn't count because I think of her more as a "Bitch" then as a "Canadian."

**Ironically, the manager who was threatened with Organ Transplant Black-Listing works for the medical school at the same university in another department. The entire exchange was witnessed by yet another university employee, and both of them planned on notifying the head of the Ethics department. Of course that doesn’t compare to being on the RCMP "Most Wanted" list…


If you've purchased my short story, "Splitting the Difference," THANK YOU! And please feel free to go back to Amazon and review it.

The. End.

Tonight is the last night of the Sundance Film Festival, but really it ended Saturday night. That was when the films in competition were awarded their prizes, and the finalists went home on the red eye Sunday morning.

This years fest was fraught with glitches, snafus and bugaboos. It started with small stuff, like not having the coats available to distribute at Check-In (We were advised, "The Men's jackets are here, the Women's are stuck in customs…") to 50% of our volunteers getting the incorrect size ("I ordered an XXL and they gave me a Medium, what should I do?") There was a misprint in the Film Guide (traditionally The Rose Wagner is the only Salt Lake theater showing films on the last Sunday, but the schedule had them at The Tower theater, which is 17 blocks away…) and the list goes on…

The patrons seemed especially aggressive this year. I cannot tell you the number of times I had to explain "The Wait-List Paradox" (If you save a seat for someone in the Wait List line, and tell me the seat next to you is unavailable, then we cannot sell a wait list ticket to your friend in the line that you are holding the seat for because you've told me that seat is already occupied… Get It?") One guy even shoved Charlie around because there were no more seats available, he showed up late, and demanded to be allowed in.

Dude. Seriously. Have you ever heard the phrase "Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag"? For a show yesterday we were told that two people were sharing a chair in one of the balcony boxes. Sorry, but I cannot fathom wanting to sit on one butt cheek for 90 minutes. I don't care what movie it is, my ass deserves better treatment than that.

We spaced ballots for one of the films in competition, and neglected to hand them out before the movie started. Catching our error, we handed them out as soon as the film ended and had a better rate of return on the ballots then we usually get (a lot of people lose them, put them in their pockets or bags, and neglect to turn them into us after them film.) I actually had a woman infer that we did it on purpose because of the subject matter of the film. I was speechless…almost. I advised her that it was a grievous error, for which we made sure to make right for the film maker, and there was no "conspiracy." Then she made a comment about "You Salt Lake People", like we're all Right Wing Conservative Republican Mormon members of The Eagle Forum, which, as anyone who know me (and the people I volunteer with) can tell you is so far off the mark it's laughable. We had already advised the film's director, but she made sure to run over and tell them, just in case. Like we were hiding something. Which we weren’t.

Deep inhale… hold it… hold it... long exhale.

Tonight is Best of Fest; we have three movies scheduled to show today, and then it's over. The managers from the Rose Wagner Team are also hosting our second annual "Sundae Monday" where we bring in ice cream and all the accoutrements for Sundaes to our volunteers to thank them for digging in and returning to our venue and doing the fabulous job that they do.

Even if their coat doesn't fit.

Two Recommends:

That's right, two. Why? Well, because I've only see all of one and snippets of the second, that's why. Doing my taxes, RWA treasurer stuff, life in general, this has not been a huge "See stuff at Sundance" year for me.

First is; The Company Men, written and directed by John Wells, starring Ben Afflek, Tommy Lee Jones, Chris Cooper, Maria Bello, Craig T. Nelson and Kevin Costner.

This is an excellent film about a current topic; losing your job. It's sad, it's funny, and it will at times make you just as frustrated as the characters who are looking for work.

I see these people all the time. They have been downsized and outsourced and come in to the barn to apply for a job because they cannot find anything else. And we're not talking people with no skills, here; we've had loan officers, realtors, construction workers; people from all walks of life who need to make something, anything to stay afloat.

And let me tell you something; in my profession, there are people who think that we are pretty low; one step above Carney worker. The fact is, most of our employees are driving carriage as a second job. We are not out there all day, like in other parts of the country, so it's not a full-time proposition. We're out in the evenings, six days a week. Only a handful, like myself, MBA, Kar, and ~A~ do this as our only vocation. And ~A~ is looking for a job, so soon (hopefully) she will be back to work full time elsewhere and only drive occasionally. And because so many other people are hurting financially, we are too. There are just not enough rides to go around because "disposable income" is no longer disposable. It goes to our mortgage, our groceries, our children's education funds.

Ro always tells new applicants, "You can't pay the mortgage with what you make here, but you can probably make a car payment." So it is for many of our employees a place to make enough extra income to take the edge off of living paycheck to paycheck. None of our people drive up in a Rolls Royce. Unless Rolls Royce now manufactures a bashed up Mini-Van that I don’t know about.

You see, we are always hiring. People come in and their eyes light up because they've finally found a job. On commission. And you don’t get paid while you’re training, because they are "statutory" employees. Many of them work for us for just a short time and realize that they need something with more of a guaranteed income, so they go elsewhere. Which is why we are always hiring.

It’s a vicious circle.

Anyway, with the stellar cast and slick production, I cannot imagine this film not getting distributed, so look for it in your local theater sometime soon, and go see it. It's good.

Next; "The Pat Tillman Story." It is a look at the cluster f*ck that became a nightmare for the Tillman family when their former Cardinal's football player son joined (along with his brother) the military. Then he got killed, by friendly fire, but the powers that be decided to cover it up. And use him as propaganda, which he never ever wanted to happen. The family has pieced together the incident as well as they could but no one will either give them, or take responsibility, for the events that transpired.

The message I took away from the Q&A after the show (many of Tillman's family were there along with the director of the documentary) is this:

When a loved one joins the Military, they give away most of their rights as a citizen. So they must do as they are ordered. If you, as a non-military member, see something transpire that you feel is wrong, you need to write/call/complain to someone in control. Why? Because YOU are their voice.

Snoop Dog and Too Much Bitch In The Water

Tuesday night was…intense. And I just want to say that it was either the three-quarter full moon, or else someone slipped way too much "Bitch" in the drinking water, because there was a higher percentage of assholes in attendance than usual.

Our first showing (Okay for those of you who do not know, I volunteer for the Sundance Film Festival which is going on here in Utah right now, so there you have it, up to speed…)

Our first showing was "Gasland" which will open your eyes to the downside of Natural Gas harvesting. I'm not going to enter into a rant about the environment, the government royally screwing people, or how everyday citizens lose their rights because of lobbyists being in bed with certain factions in Washington; I won't have to. When this movie is available, rent it and see for yourself how your tax dollars are at work…just not for you. Unless you're a billionaire, in which case why are you wasting time reading my blog?
I am in no way, shape or form a tree hugging liberal, but jeesh!

Anyhow, what I really wanted to tell you was this: There are a ton of stories at Sundance, that's what the festival is all about, and believe it or not, some of them aren’t even mine…

Here is one:

The Snoop Dog Story

Alexi is my immediate supervisor. Before Rose Wagner she worked at Trolley Square. In 2005 the movie "Hustle and Flow" premiered at the festival. The night it played at Trolley she was managing . A man walked in and identified himself as Snoop Dog's manager. He told her that Snoop and his friends were attending the show, but they were having dinner. He got her cell phone number. A while later he called and said they were still at dinner, and could she hold up the film until they got there? She said no. A little while later they called and said they were out back, could someone let them in the rear door? She sent Krista. Then his manager said that his friends were hungry, could she get them some snacks? So Alexi sent a couple of volunteers to the snack bar with her credit card and got Snoop Dog and his friends some snacks. The bill came to $66.50. She knew that because the volunteers gave her back her credit card and her receipt after they deliver the Snoop Dog entourage their snacks. When the film was over, she waited to approach Snoop Dog's manager, holding her receipt for $66.50.

They'd left through the back door.

So, if any of you see Snoop Dog, tell him he owes Alexi $66.50, from 2005.

Personally, I think he should pay her interest.

PS: I added a link to a story about Alexi in Thursday's SLC Tribune. Alexi said she told the reporter the Snoop Dog story, but it didn't make it into the article. So much for investigative journalism! Boo! Maybe she would get paid back if it had...

Altitude Attitude

People unfamiliar with living in the upper reaches of the atmosphere sometimes get blind-sided by the effects of alcohol in a high altitude environment…

In other words, they get trashed real fast.

I'm not pointing fingers at anyone…just sayin'—

*****

As you can imagine I've been a busy little beaver over here in Salt Lake. The Sundance Film Festival opened Friday evening here with the premier of "Get Low", a film starring Robert Duval, Sissy Spacek, Lucas Black, and one of my all time favorite people, Bill Murray.

Why Bill, you ask? With a headliner like Duval, why fawn over Mr. M?

He's a Cubs fan, and a Chicagoan (okay, Wilmette, but it still counts). Duh! It's me we're talking about here, not, well, you know, someone who is not me…

So Bill was at the premier, using a crutch ("I got hurt rescuing a bunny rabbit.") At one point he, and I know this will come as a shock to those starry eyed readers of "People" and "The National Enquirer" who keep the paparazzi in business because they worship celebrities, had to use the restroom! (gasp!) so, being he was "other abled" I escorted him down in the elevator to the closest men's room available where stairs were not in the equation.

On the way back up he curiously popped his head into the "Green Room" which at this venue our volunteers use as a lounge. It's great because a video feed from the auditorium allows them to not only watch the film, but we also know when it's ending, if the sound goes out, the film breaks, or there is some other kind of disruption. So Bill walks by, pops his head in.

"What's this?" Bill asks me.

"It's our lounge where our wonderful volunteers hang out and relax," I replied.

Bill looks up at the monitor. "What are they watching?" he asks, turning to me with a quizzical expression.

"They're watching your movie, Bill."

Feigning being startled, "Oh, I'd better go and leave them alone then."

On the way back I mentioned I grew up in Des Plaines, (a suburb of Chicago) he replied, "I had cousins that lived in Des Plaines. They were really cool. Then they moved to Iowa and got weird."

I told him, "I hear that Iowa is going to use that as their new State Motto; "Move to Iowa, we'll turn you weird."

So working the Gala was a lot of fun, and it is great seeing all my Facebook Sundance friends in the flesh again. At the volunteer party last week I got to meet two people who are "imaginary internet friends" in person, which was interesting. One of them, a film maker from Chicago, was a lot of fun. We chatted and networked and I'm hooking my nephew up with him to get some experience "in the business" since that's what he's going to college for.

The other guy, who is a very handsome man in the field of media, "friended me" using the find-a-friend app and did not actually, cognitively "look" for me (or even, I suspect, at my profile. Our 'friendship" was the result of an email blast that could have included anyone…) Well, I saw his name tag, introduced myself, and I think I kind of creeped him out, in a Fatal Attraction/Stalker-ish boiling your puppy kind of way.

And you know, I'm okay with that, because it should keep him on his toes for the balance of the Festival.




The Rose Wagner Team

One, Two, Cha Cha Cha

It's almost that time again. Time to put on my dancing running shoes and get ready for the Big Dance. No, not basketball playoffs, silly, the Sundance Film Festival.

I got involved with the festival when we moved to Utah and I figured it would be a great place to meet other movie fans and network with folks who might possibly help me find an interesting and rewarding job. My first year, 2004, I volunteered (with my left foot in a soft boot due to bunion surgery) at the Broadway Theater. I also had several pre-fest assignments in Park City. The day after Christmas found me working at the Festival store selling t-shirts. That was the slowest and most boring day I ever spent. The night before it snowed over a foot and Park City, due to its mountain location, was a mess. I think we had five customers during my eight hour shift. A total snooze and not what I expected at all. Bleh.

For my next non-Salt Lake assignment I was slated to assist the stage crew set up on Main Street for the band The Presidents of the United States of America. Apparently, unbeknownst to the powers that be, stage erection is a union thing and they not only did not need my help, they did not want it. So I was reassigned to ice patrol. They gave a 42 year old woman with her foot in a medical boot a shovel and told her to chop the built up ice in the gutters that were cut down to accommodate wheelchair access. So I spent most of my shift wandering around Park City packing a shovel, obliterating ice, and getting the hairy eyeball from festival patrons.

"The crowds parted with a gasp as the suspected Shovel Murderer slowly made her way up the steep and icy sidewalks of Main Street, the erratic rhythm of her hideous step… drag… step… drag… sending chills racing up their collective spines. She brandished her instrument of torture, a pointed garden shovel stolen from True Value, and the image was intimidating enough to scare even the brattiest child, or most hardened, spoiled Hollywood celebrity, into behaving themselves…"

Ahh, good times.

The following year, 2005, *they* asked me to be the waitlist manager at the Broadway Theater. This means you work outside wrangling the waitlist line. The term "Crowd Liaison" is bandied about, but technically you're more of a combination bouncer, person who tells you to take a number at the deli counter, and playground monitor. I firmly believe I was suggested for the job not because of my sparkling wit and personality, but because I had the proper outdoor attire, (carriage driver, you know…)

Now I'm at The Rose Wagner Theater, what I believe is the best venue in Salt Lake. We have a beautiful 477 seat auditorium, fully appointed green room that we use as a volunteer lounge, and best of all, no hills to slog up and down. YAY!

So volunteering didn't get me what I thought it would, a job, I got that on my own, but I have made some fabulous friends that I stay in touch with 11 months out of the year on Facebook, and get to go and play with for a two week period in January. Only one of them is in the filmmaking business, but we're all fans. And a little insane. And starting next week we get to dance together for 10 days, after which we will go back to our regular lives, exhausted, and with a little more swag than we started out with. And a lot more memories.

Ahh, good times.

Six Degrees of Desperation

The first two days of Sundance, for me, sucked ass. Why? Because I’m in a new management position, don’t know WTF I’m doing, and in my capacity I had to have a lot of face time with angry people who feel that their inability to properly navigate the space-time continuum between their residence/hotel room and the theater constitutes an emergency and/or exception on my part.

I know that’s a lot to process. I’ll make it easy on you. They were late, the film was oversold, and when they did finally arrive, late, there was no place for them to sit. Now, if I had the ability, using only my mind, to arbitrarily enlarge a building and make seats appear (or, on the converse, make people in seats “Poof” and fade away like wisps of smoke) I guarantee you that I would not be a carriage driver or a Sundance volunteer. I would be working my jolly way to world domination.

Anyway, this has been the scenario for the last few days:

Angry patron, waving her finger (complete with carefully applied Lee Press-On nail) in my face: “But I have a ticket”

Slave Driver, wearing a poker face, nodding sympathetically, repeating the same litany over and over while simultaneously watching cartoons in her head, which is where her “happy place” is: “Yes, but as stated on the back of your ticket, right under ‘No Refunds, exchanges, transfers, or resale’s permitted’ it also says the following:

‘Ticket holder must be seated 15 minutes prior to scheduled start time or seat may be forfeited. Event not rated. Viewer discretion advised. Ticket and privileges may be revoked at any time for any reason without liability to Sundance institute from any claims resulting from attendance. The likeness of this ticket and any Sundance Trademarks may not be used without the express written consent of the Sundance institute.’

All right, now that the legal jargon is out of the way, here is the deal. Sundance is a film festival where the films are shown and tickets are sold on spec. If the film showing sucks, the buzz will get around and the theater will be empty. If the reason you want to see a particular film is because everybody who has seen it says that it kicks ass, then guess what? We’ll be filled and then some. So, patrons are required to be in their seats 15 minutes prior to the films scheduled start time. Many people arrive late, and if we have room we seat them. If not, we’ll refer to the back of the ticket. And I offer the customer complaint line phone number. But still, they think it is our fault and thus direct their rage at me, my volunteer staff, other people in line, and whoever else will listen. If there was a puppy in the lobby they would probably kick it. There was a mob that gathered in the lobby Saturday night, and I was watching for pitchforks and torches to appear.

Oh well. So the first two days sucked.

Sunday, however, was great.

As a full time volunteer I have credentials that allow me to, if volunteer tickets are available, see any film I want for free, saving me $15 for each film.

So far, I’ve seen one. And I didn’t like it.

Sunday I went in early, burned a bag of popcorn in the volunteer lounge’s microwave, almost setting off the fire alarm (that would have been very bad) got in line to received a ticket for “Taking Chance”. Directed by Ross Katz and starring Kevin Bacon, is it a moving and powerful film about the true story of a Marine who volunteers to escort the remains of a young soldier killed in Iraq back home for burial. This film is about respect, and I highly recommend it. Written by Lt. Col. Michael R. Strobl (ret)It will premier on HBO Saturday, February 21, 2009 at 8pm.

When the film was finished I had 13 minutes left before my shift began, so I ducked out before the Q & A, walked backstage (I hold a managers position, I get to do stuff like that and no one questions me) and was able to tell Kevin Bacon that the film was fantastic and he did an outstanding job. I don’t fawn, but I like to give compliments when they are deserved.

KB, by the way, is tall (okay, Tina, one of my cohorts, said “He’s not tall,” but I’m 5’4”, Tina is 6’. So, yeah, to her he’s not tall.) And he is very thin. And nice, which was refreshing.

After my shift started we were graced with musician Randy Granger who plays Native American flutes and also a percussion instrument called a “Hang Drum”. I enjoyed Randy’s music enough that I borrowed cash from a volunteer and purchased two of his CD’s.

Then, Robert Townsend arrived to intro his Film “Why we laugh: Black Comedians on Black Comedy”. I’ve been a fan of his for a while and, since he had almost 25 minutes to kill, suggested he might wander over and enjoy listening to Randy. Well, the two hit it off, with Robert asking Randy questions about the different flues and Hang/Hapi drums, culminating with them playing an impromptu duet.

The film is based on a book by Darryl Littleton, who brought copies of it along to sell after the screening. We chatted for a while and as he was leaving he asked, “Did you get a copy of my book?”

I felt bad because I had not purchased one but I had already borrowed $20 from Linda and I was running out of people to mooch off of, so I had to tell him “No.”

He handed me a copy and said “Now you do.” which was very kind. I started reading it when I got home last night. The book is excellent.

So to sum it all up:

Two days filled with crabby customer, one day with a great film, nice actor, fabulous musician, engaging director, interesting and kind author. It all evens out in the end.

Plus now my Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon is at 1