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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Picturing Sundance 2014: 21 Images

Sleep is good. Seeing movies is better. Writing solid, thoughtful reviews instead of instant reactions longer than a well-wrought tweet: even better. Those will come later, but for the day, a few quick descriptions and some more glimpses of 10 days at Sundance. (All images © 2014 Ray Pride.)

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LOT

They don’t want you to park at the Library.

Abandon

Abandon Hope, All Ye…

Filmmaker Reception

At Riverhorse, Filmmaker-Journalist reception.

IRON HORSE

Sometimes you get onto the wrong shuttle. Well, more than once. It shouldn’t be twice in a row. Argh!

Facetime oldtimer

Main Street: a large number of oldtimers would just stop, plant themselves and FaceTime away.

Wow in Park City

WOW indeed. 4.0 to the moon!

Faraci, Buchanan copy

Devin Faraci, Kyle Buchanan at Filmmaker-Journalist reception at the Riverhorse.

Banksy

Gawker shadows fall across the Banksy on the side of Java Cow.

BRM Trivia

The annual indiefilm trivia at the Yarrow, led by Tom Hall, with John Vanco and Matt Dentler to the right.

Main Street Wednesday

Midweek, a raft of journalists and filmmakers and most all of the “gifting suites” beat a path to SLC.

HQ In the gloaming

The Festival HQ in the gloaming.

Don't Go in the Shop

Don’t go into the Shop.

Nick Cave

Before 20000 Days On Earth at the Prospector.

Robert Greene copy

Robert Greene, estimable documentarian and editor of Listen Up Philip.

ARP Receives

The receiving line for Alex Ross Perry after Listen Up Philip at The Marc. (The line extends beyond the frame.)

Silver Miner

A sky the silver miners could have seen in the nineteenth century.

Filmmaker press lunch

The Filmmaker-Press reception (pastrami and tuna tartare bites not shown).

Peter

Buttons from the Montreal remembrance ceremony for late documentary man-about-world Peter Wintonick.

Fritz the Bear

Fritz the Bear.

Main Street moon

The moon over Main Street. And: Joe Swanberg after the no-longer-secret screening of Nymphomania.

Swanberg Nymphomania

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“I was 15 when I first watched Sally Hardesty escape into the back of a pickup truck, covered in blood and cackling like a goddamn witch. All of her friends were dead. She had been kidnapped, tortured and even forced to feed her own blood to her cannibalistic captors’ impossibly shriveled patriarch. Being new to the horror genre, I was sure she was going to die. It had been a few months since I survived a violent sexual assault, where I subsequently ran from my assailant, tripped, fell and fought like hell. I crawled home with bloody knees, makeup-stained cheeks and a new void in both my mind and heart. My sense of safety, my ability to trust others, my willingness to form new relationships and my love of spending time with people I cared about were all taken from me. It wasn’t until I found the original The Texas Chain Saw Massacre that something clicked. It was Sally’s strength, and her resilience. It was watching her survive blows to the head from a hammer. It was watching her break free from her bonds and burst through a glass window. It was watching her get back up after she’d been stabbed. It was watching her crawl into the back of a truck, laughing as it drove away from Leatherface. She was the last one to confront the killer, and live. I remember sitting in front of the TV and thinking, There I am. That’s me.”
~ Lauren Milici On “The Final Girl”

“‘Thriller’ enforced its own reality principle; it was there, part of the every commute, a serenade to every errand, a referent to every purchase, a fact of every life. You didn’t have to like it, you only had to acknowledge it. By July 6, 1984, when the Jacksons played the first show of their ‘Victory’ tour, in Kansas City, Missouri, Jacksonism had produced a system of commodification so complete that whatever and whoever was admitted to it instantly became a new commodity. People were no longer comsuming commodities as such things are conventionally understood (records, videos, posters, books, magazines, key rings, earrings necklaces pins buttons wigs voice-altering devices Pepsis t-shirts underwear hats scarves gloves jackets – and why were there no jeans called Bille Jeans?); they were consuming their own gestures of consumption. That is, they were consuming not a Tayloristic Michael Jackson, or any licensed facsimile, but themselves. Riding a Mobius strip of pure capitalism, that was the transubstantiation.”
~ Greil Marcus On Michael Jackson