Montage Deer Valley, nestled on the perimeter of the famed Sundance grounds, unveiled a gingerbread replica of the festival’s historic theater on Thanksgiving weekend. Executive Pastry Chef Romie Fisher, a custodian of the resort’s sugarcraft, assembled 700 pounds of chocolate, 1,700 gingerbread cookies, and 54 pounds of fondant to honor Robert Redford’s legacy, even fashioning a molten chocolate figurine of the director in a director’s chair. The display, replete with velvet curtains and a chocolate screen projecting ‘Home Alone’ and ‘The Grinch,’ serves more as a prop than a public gathering place. Attendance is coveted, limited to those who can outmaneuver the 30‑minute road‑block, yet the real soirée is the line of impeccably dressed “ever‑fashionable” guests waiting by the lobby entrance. The air is thick with step‑and‑repeat red and gala black, trading polite nods while calmly nursing lukewarm prosecco.
Sundance’s departure from the valley is keenly felt: the influx of high‑profile attendees generates gridlock, but Montage’s controlled access turns the frenzy into a disposable experience. The guest list reads like a rolling list of socialites, hardly a discerning jury of taste makers, and the event itself feels more like a spectacle for the cameras than for the palettes. Verdict: Send a check but stay home.