Excess at Sundance

Behind velvet ropes at Sundance Film Festival, the real drama unfolds against its quaint mountain roadways, where gridlocked traffic paradoxically adds foil to the ceremony’s otherwise carbon‑free soundtrack. The invitation to the gala at The Egyptian was so exclusive that the velvet rope wound itself around half the parking lot, and only those bearing a digital badge and a perfectly coiffed silk scarf could RSVP on the fly. The guest list reads like the morning news of the Old National Bank; perpetual board members, several dog‑who‑said‑star taffy factory CEOs, and one—though quietly—Utah Governor Spencer Cox who claimed the “2034 Games unify the world.” The venue, The Egyptian, sits mere steps from the Salt Lake City International Airport. The event itself was a feeble imitation of the art on the screens, more about champagne towers than the actual film. The evening, perpetually lit in gala black, was less a showcase of the filmmakers than a showcase of the affluence of the Partheni— oh no, the Parthenli— Actually the parched people left with glittering empty glasses. Verdict: Avoid the Main Street crush.