Slamdance 2004 by Ernest Hardy

While I was picking up publicity materials at the Sundance pressroom this year, an intern noticed the Slamdance press pass around my neck and remarked, "They suck this year." I joked that he was hardly an impartial party and that his opinion couldn't really be trusted. "No," he replied, "I worked up here [Park City] last year, and snuck up to Slamdance every chance I got. They had some really great stuff. But this year, nothing really grabs me. I don't feel the desire to go up there at all."

The Sundance kid might have been a little harsh in his evaluation, but he wasn't too far off. It's ironic that the cinematic line-up pulled together to commemorate Slamdance's 10th anniversary was rather lackluster. And it's especially unfortunate in that, a few years ago, the upstart festival had not only built up the momentum to propel themselves into the realm of the formidable, but had often delivered an overall more satisfying experience than their more celebrated stepsister down the hill, Sundance.

To be clear, by formidable, I don't mean that they were on the verge of becoming the schmooze-driven marketplace that Sundance is. That was obviously and admirably never their goal. But the strong sense of community that they foster among visiting filmmakers (still palpable this year), the friendly staff they employ year after year, and the sense of risk in their programming choices have all been in the service of enticing movie-going fare. This year, little leapt from their program and demanded to be seen.

The first disappointment: One of the few films that was appealing even on the pages of the festival catalogue, the documentary, Factor 8: The Arkansas Prison Blood Scandal (USA), by investigative reporter/director Kelly Duda, was pulled from the schedule at the last minute due to a recently filed lawsuit. The film tracks the story of how tainted blood from Arkansas prisoners was sold to patients around the world while Bill Clinton was governor. It promised to be a fascinating look at prison corruption, another down side to globilization, and the complicated political legacies of Bill Clinton. Hopefully, it will resurface elsewhere.

The mockumentary, Death & Texas (USA), takes aim at the death penalty, but is filled with the kind of too-easy jabs and facile insights that have made the American left an impotent, self- satisfied creature. Bobby Briggs (Steve Harris, from television's, "The Practice") is a football star accused of murder. His high- profile trial raises the intertwined issues of race, crime and celebrity privilege in this toothless political satire. When a caricatured right-wing judge (it's almost a gift to be able to flubthat creature up) barks the leaden line, "What makes the American justice system work is that there is no room for ideals, just the rules," you know the film is in trouble. The real documentaries fared better, especially Scott Milam, Ken Harder and Todd Pottinger's award-winning, richly layered Big City Dick: Richard Peterson's First Movie (USA), about a savant street musician's quest for fame and glory, and the obstacles - and unearthed secrets - that thwart him.

Surprisingly, the eight minute short, Deliverance: The Musical (USA, where else?), which predictably hinges on the infamous, "Drop dem pants and squeal like a pig" scene, was sharper and funnier than the frat-boy-with-a-camera vibe it initially gave off. It does exactly what you thought it would - only better. It was written and directed by David Fickas.

The most satisfying film I saw was Bill Plympton's wry animated film, Hair High (USA), in which his coolly skewed aesthetic and worldview are employed to tell the tale of ill-fated high school lovers (a gorgeous, bitchy head cheerleader and a smart-ass geek- with-a-backbone) whose romance, untimely death and hilarious revenge draw upon everything from Carrie to an especially wicked acid trip. The depth of Plympton's talent is proved (not that proof is needed) in two especially effective not-for-the-squeamish scenes. In one, the fingernail is popped off a guy with a switchblade, and the moment is so teeth-grindingly effective, that it couldn't be more real were the characters flesh and blood. In another, space worms crawl through the toenail of a woman, and slither up her body, under her skin as they make their way to her brain. The sequence is definitely not for the squeamish but it's absolutely fantastic."