Even the kids these days are making movies.

Unmade Beds by director Alexis Dos Santos is so hipster chic that I’m not sure I qualified to be in the audience. The movie tells two stories that unfold simultaneously and only truly intersect at the end. From the music to the young actors, this movie felt more current than anything I’ve experienced in a long time. Even those Vogue trendsetters in The September Issue are behind compared to this film.

So maybe that’s why some of this movie was tedious from my point of view—I’m at least a generation past the moment captured in this film. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the movie. Dos Santos strikes me as the real deal, a genuine indie director set on creating art house movies. Unmade Beds is filled with intriguing visual themes that track intelligently to the story. And the story lines weaved melancholy themes of losing things (like memories and relationships) with the pleasure of finding things. By the end of the movie, even the name of the hipster nightclub (Lost and Found) felt like an intentional thematic statement. I will say this, it seems like the cool kids these days are drinking a lot, listening to cutting-edge underground music, and having plenty of crazy hot sex.

The youthfulness of the cast and the director only added to the hipness of the movie. The male lead, Fernando Tielve, looks like he’s about 12 and delivered a fantastic performance. And he was surprisingly friendly in person. I ran into him before I saw the film so didn’t know who he was. He was more than happy to strike up a conversation without ever mentioning that he is the star of a Sundance movie.

One final note: While much of the music was not to my taste, it’s obvious that Dos Santos is passionate about music and he uses it to amazing effect in this film.

Sundance bonus: Katie Wolf’s short This is Her is excellent. With humor and emotion, the film tells a future story of sadness from a current story of great joy. I loved this 12-minute gem.

I hate fashion. I love fashion. I hate fashion. I love fashion.

The September Issue from director R.J. Cutler is brilliant. I often complain that Sundance documentaries never make it out of the film festival circuit. But you will see this movie in theaters and on TV.

I love the way the filmmakers approached the topic. There was no judgment. Just an honest view of the fashion world. Consequently, the movie makes you hate fashion for its superficiality. And love fashion for its depth, passion, and beauty.

The movie was filmed over nine months and follows the development of the 2007 September issue of Vogue magazine, the biggest issue of the year. Anna Wintour is the star and she’s everything you expect; cold, calculating, and brutally direct. I expected that. What I didn’t expect were the supporting characters. Two people in particular made the movie. Grace Coddington, an aging model turned editor extraordinaire is genius. And famed fashion photographer Mario Testino was just crazy enough to make you want fly to Rome and have your picture taken. Once again, I was reminded why I love Italians.

Anna Wintour summed up my anticipation for the rest of Sundance with the last line in the movie, “What else?” I can hardly wait to find out.

Skip the skiing. Spend a day at the beach.

To start my Sundance experience, I saw an Italian film. The poorly translated film title, One Day in a Life, didn’t reflect the Italian title, Un altro pianeta (Another Planet). But I guess a similarly named American movie is responsible for the bad translation. Nonetheless, the movie was charming. I have to offer this warning: the movie contains full-frontal male nudity, gay sex, and straight sex.

One Day in a Life is charming. It’s classic Italian cinema. Sure, it’s melodramatic. But it’s melodrama so warm, so sunny, so friendly that I can only hope my life is so tragic. And let’s face it, spending a day at the beach with a bunch of attractive Italians clad in skimpy bathing suits (or nude), is fun.

I think the movie gets its charm from the director, Stefano Tummolini. He was at the screening with two of the actors. They instantly warmed to the audience and seemed surprised that two disparate cultures can share mutual experiences. He admitted, “you laughed at the moments I expected you to laugh, and you were moved when I wanted you to be moved.” Thanks Stefano, I was moved. And you reminded my why I love Italians.

Back to the blog.

After a bit of a holiday break, I’m returning to writing. Why? Well, the Sundance Film Festival has returned to Salt Lake and Park Cities. I’ve volunteered for the last five years. But that volunteer business just gets in the way of seeing movies. So this year, armed with my Locals Only Quick Pass that gets me into just about any screening, I’ve decided to spend plenty of time in darkened theaters. And why not record my Sundance experiences by posting mini movie reviews. So expect plenty of posts over the next ten days.

Printmaker paradise.

I’ve recently spent time contemplating the artwork of Takashi Murakami. And my respect for the artist continues to increase as I learn more about his tradition, process, and ideology. As part of my investigation, I discovered that one of the influences in Murakami’s art and his concept of "superflat" is the tradition of Japanese woodblock prints.

Recently, at the BYU Museum of Art, it was obvious how this ancient tradition could inspire something like Murakami’s paintings, sculptures, and other products. Windows on a Hidden World: Japanese Woodblock Prints from the BYU Collection is an exhibition featuring prints spanning hundreds of years. And you can see how they might have influenced Murakami.

You might think that Murakami’s use of Manga and Anime couldn’t come from influences in the early 1800s. But then you see Triptych Battle Scene by Utagawa Toyokuni, a print that feels comic-book modern, even though it's 200 years old.

And what about the line work in Behind the Waves off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849)? This may be the most famous print in the show (and a print owned by Murakami). The line work is reminiscent of that in Murakami’s furiously happy flowers. It’s interesting that both Hokusai’s wave and Murakami’s chrysanthemums can be both friendly and menacing.

Some of the best prints in the show involve rain or snow. These prints seem illuminated from within, even in the exhibition’s dim light.

It’s worth seeing this show for its diversity and meditative nature. It’s even more interesting as you realize the influence these print makers have had on art, including the work of Manet, Monet, Degas, Cassatt, Van Gogh, and now Murakami.

Windows on a Hidden World is on display through January 19, 2008.

Hunting for a little Christmas spirit?

Here’s a strangely heartwarming story. It reminds me why small-town America is so great. My first morning in Wyoming started with a front-page story in the local newspaper, The Northern Wyoming Daily News. The feature photograph included my 15-year-old niece surrounded by a whole bunch of teen boys. Why? They’d gone hunting. The Wyoming Department of Fish and Game allows a certain number of deer to be killed and provided as food for the local food bank. My niece shot two deer as part of the program. The following day, she helped process the meat.

I gotta give Maggie credit. From my perspective, that’s real dedication to helping the needy. I’m happy to write a check to the Utah Food Bank. But I won’t be shooting any deer and processing the meat to feed the hungry.

American rifleperson II.

What do you do when you’re in Wyoming for Thanksgiving? Go shooting, of course. I’ll admit, guns scare me and I really don’t understand their allure. Guns are outside my comfort zone. But this Thanksgiving forced me to confront my fears.

Normally, I would skip a shooting excursion. But my dad and my 15-year-old niece Maggie were so excited about the idea of me with a gun that I didn’t want to disappoint. Plus, Maggie just got her learners permit so she was driving—how can you pass up an adventure that involves teen drivers and guns?!

We all loaded into the Suburban and headed out to Uncle Bob’s farm and his personal shooting range. (Yes, I have an Uncle Bob who owns a farm on which he has installed his own makeshift shooting range.) There we met Uncle Bob, other relatives, and friends for an afternoon of guns.

The talk at the shooting range? The gun-ownership disaster that is Barack Obama. Jokes about how to avoid surrendering your weaponry to the new liberal administration were popular including statements like, “I gave all my guns to Scott” or “I threw my guns in the river.” I’ll be surprised if anyone actually loses one of his or her guns but considering the small arsenal on display, I decided it best to keep my liberal mouth shut.

I spent most of the time taking pictures. But my niece, my dad, and my brother were so excited about me firing a gun, that I succumbed to peer pressure. The first part of the day involved handguns. For this, the targets were posters of “perps” (perpetrators). I borrowed my brother’s new handgun and took a few shots at the bad guys. I don’t remember all of the gun details, but I’m pretty sure it was a Beretta, only because that’s the gun James Bond regularly used and I’m bit of a Bond fan. If the “perps” had been real, two out of three would have killed me.

For the second part of the day, we broke out the serious weaponry. This was a special occasion. After all, President Obama will soon take away my family’s assault rifles. That’s right, I said assault rifle. I can now say that I have fired an AR15 assault rifle. We fired at targets positioned at 100, 200, and 300 yards. I hit targets at both 100 and 200 yards and then stopped while I was ahead. But my niece had no problem hitting the 300-yard target. The targets were thick metal and the 200-yard metal pig made a beautiful tone when hit. I’m sure this won’t go over with the gun crowd but shooting could be more rewarding if it were more musical.

I’m not going to run out and buy a gun. But I have to admit, the outing was more fun than I expected. And it brought me closer to my family. So I’ll finish this post with a few photographs from Uncle Bob’s firing range in the badlands of Wyoming.

Preparing the "perp" targets.

Maggie taking aim.

Me, taking out a few "perps."

The target at 200 yards.