Festivals are popping up everywhere and redefining their traditional roles. But some seem more interested in exploitation than exhibition.

People cry in Park City at festival time. It's common to see grown men and women walking the streets in the gently falling snow with tears streaming down their faces. Maybe they've invested three years and their life's savings in a movie and just sold it for $5 million. Or maybe they haven't. Maybe they just won an award. Or didn't. Maybe a projector jammed during their premiere screening and all the acquisitions people walked out. Maybe they invested half a million in someone else's cinematic dream and they just saw it for the first time and for some reason they really need to be alone right now. Maybe their first produced screenplay is a hit. Or maybe they just saw a documentary on war in the Balkans that put the swirl of cell phones, ski fashions and film biz nonsense in perspective and they're questioning what their life means and why they're in a Utah resort town right now anyway. But it's not just Park City. There are plenty of reasons to cry at any film festival. And if you want to check this phenomenon out for yourself, chances are now excellent that you won't have far to travel.

THE EXPLOSION

"It's crazy," says filmmaker Penny Fearon, "There's one in every town." Indeed, the number of film festivals, both in the USA and internationally, is exploding. Festivals are popping up like mushrooms, dividing like amoebas, specializing, riding other festivals' coattails, and going on the road. Many of the new festivals are started by filmmakers themselves. "But it's a good thing," says Fearon (producer of The Outfitters, which premiered at Sundance this year). "The festival circuit itself has become a de facto form of distribution, especially for documentaries. It's a way to screen your film for thousands of people. Even the small municipal festivals help to fight the mollification of movies."

No doubt there's an audience for the Banff Festival of Mountain Films, the Seoul Queer Film and Video Festival, the Freaky Film Festival and the Los Angeles Festival of Italian Films. But does the world really need a "Dockers Khakis Classically Independent Film Festival?"

"I would estimate that our directory has climbed from 400 to 600 listings in the past several years," reports Carol Shyman of www.filmfestivals.com. Will people show up to all these new events? Are there enough new movies? Based on this year's record attendance at most festivals, there's no problem. In fact, audience enthusiasm and the independent film glut are probably what's driving the boom.

We had 1,744 submission this year, up from 1,420 last year," reports Peter Baxter, Executive Director of Slamdance. "The tapes won't fit on the shelves of our storage room. They're up the walls and spread out across the floor. At one point I looked at all those little black boxes and I figured that the average cost of each, when you factor in the hundred or so short films, was about the price of a new Mercedes C Class. I found myself imagining 1,744 Mercedes parked side-by-side in there."

Every filmmaker wants to get into the top festivals. Chris Gore's new book, The Ultimate Film Festival Survival Guide (Lone Eagle, 1999) offers this list of 10: Sundance, Toronto, Telluride, Cannes, Los Angeles Independent (LAIFF), New York, Slamdance, Seattle International (SIFF), South by Southwest and Taos. The competition, obviously, is intense. Filmmakers complain that politics and friends in high places lend some films an unfair advantage and work against the unknowns.

"This year at Slamdance we had over $100,000 worth of bribes offered to us, cloaked as sponsorships," says Baxter. "But we work hard to reject any type of lobbying. It's a truly democratic process. Each film is watched three times. We have a one-programmer, one-vote scoring process. After months of screenings we sit down with the scores and create the schedule in about two hours. Until then, no one film is in or out. Lobbying phone calls from distributors and important people can actually hurt a film's chances. If we perceive the film already has high-level support, we won't take it, because our mission is to support the filmmakers who need it."

The "Dances With Films" Festival in Los Angeles takes even more pains to be democratic. "Every single film is screened in its entirety by three to five people," says Co-Director Leslee Scallon. "Every screener has to make written comments, including positive ones. We mail letters to all filmmakers with constructive feedback."

Stories abound, however, of behind-the-scenes gamesmanship and string-pulling. And some festivals clearly take care of their own; Sundance and Cannes, for example, have a reputation for favoring filmmakers they've exhibited in the past.

"Filmmakers have to understand that the selections process is complicated and time consuming. It may even take as much energy and perseverance as it took to make their movie," says Peter Broderick, President of Next Wave Films (an Independent Film Channel company). "They're selling themselves short if they think they can just take a shotgun approach to festival submissions. Lobbying certainly can't hurt."

A festival in every town? Some towns have more than one. Take Park City in January. Slamdance, conceived as a rebel alternative to Sundance, in turn inspired Slumdance, No Dance and Slamdunk. "It's a good thing," says Baxter. "And it's not like Slamdance invented the concept. In the '60s, Louis Malle was dissatisfied with the mainstream program at Cannes and created the Directors Fortnight for precisely the same reasons. We felt that the films being rejected by Sundance weren't necessarily bad films."

Slamdance is now so successful that it's become a part of the hierarchy (statistically, it's harder to get into than Sundance), so the rebellion continues elsewhere. Philadelphia's "Reject Film Festival" accepts only films rejected by other festivals. "Dances with Films" is devoted to films with "no known directors, actors, producers or monies from known production companies." Scallon explains that she and co-founder Michael Trent "started handing out flyers for our new little festival, and our "no stars" concept obviously struck a nerve, because in our first year we got over 300 submissions. Are the newer festivals worth a filmmaker's time?

"Absolutely," says Karl Kozak, whose romantic comedy To Hell With Love, screened at the first "Dances." "I clinched my domestic distribution deal with Panorama Entertainment when they saw it there. It's a good festival, it's in L.A. and the films get reviewed by Variety."

The proliferation of new festivals does have a down side, however. Some may be little more than municipal PR/tourism efforts dreamed up by a local Chamber of Commerce. Others may be thinly disguised money-making ventures that do not have the best interests of filmmakers at heart. Controversy has erupted over one New York festival that asks applicants for credit card numbers on the phone, then uses telemarketers to sell them program space.

An increasingly common adjunct to film festivals is the screenplay competition, which seems harmless enough. After all, winning a prize can help a filmmaker fund a project. "But you have to realize they exist because they're sources of revenue," warns one acquisitions executive. "It costs you $50 to enter, and they may ask you for another $25 for a critique of your script. Suppose they get a thousand entries and offer a token prize of $1,500 and some software? It's not hard to do the math."

Kozak warns that a 16mm film may be marginalized by some festivals, or damaged by poorly maintained equipment. "It seems like there's always a problem on switchover," he says, referring to the transition between reels. "And at most festivals, the 16mm venues are the worst." Kozak was incensed to learn that one festival, which charges nearly $200 to enter, screened only two 16mm features out of 40 without advising applicants of its equipment limitations. Filmmakers must do their homework.

A controversial trend is the proliferation of awards. "Soon we'll have the Best Animated Short Film Under Six Minutes with a Political theme," jokes one filmmaker. John Pierson, in a recent Premiere Magazine invective, called for the complete elimination of awards at Sundance. (Pierson is on the Sundance Board.) Sundance now gives away two dozen awards, for everything from cinematography to comedic performance. Filmmakers complain that prizes turn festivals into competitions, distract the press, and, with so many offered, hurt the films that don't win. "Well, let's see how you do at a few festivals," is distributor-speak for "Let's see if you win anything." Of course, the winners aren't complaining.

"At first I wasn't concerned about awards," admits Reed Paget, whose Amerikan Passport won Best Documentary at Slamdance this year. (see pg. 74 -ed.)"It was an accomplishment just to get in, and I felt honored to be in the company of so many great films. But once I won, I scanned those laurel things onto my poster. When I got home, my answering machine was full of messages from companies wanting to see my film."

TRAVELING FESTIVALS

Festivals used to rent a theater or two, print a program, screen movies, and sell T-shirts. But this geographically and temporally limited model is being challenged by a new breed: the traveling festival. "Flixtour" is one such "festival" which in recent years proved to be a solid indie distribution alternative, bringing selected features and shorts to 40 college campuses across the country each fall. Sydney's "Flicker-fest" turns the best of the year's Australian indies into a road show. And the leading showcases for digital video, Resfest and D.film, present a series of short festivals in a string of major U.S. cities.

"Festivals have to redefine themselves," says Baxter, whose "On the Road" project screens a select group of Slamdance films at classy venues such as the American Cinemateque, and the Smithsonian Institute. In addition to touring, many established festivals are organizing mini-fests during their off season, such as SIFF's Women in Cinema and East Side Film Festival. Why not, when they have the staff, contacts, and resources.

NEW MEDIA

Digital Video is not the wave of the future. It's already here, and festivals are scrambling to catch up with it. Some festivals have chosen to usher in the digital age with symposiums and fanfare, while others are quietly screening a portion of their lineup digitally to see if the audience will notice. In many cases, they don't. State-of-the-art digital projectors are eagerly donated by manufacturers, so getting the equipment is no problem. Park City's No Dance screened all of its offerings digitally this year, even those submitted on film.

"Everyone's getting very excited. With the improvements in projection, some people are saying digital looks better than 16mm," says Baxter. "We've seen a 25 percent increase in DV-originated material submitted to us. You can certainly do more with sound on DV-that's always been a limitation of 16mm. Slamdance will show anything that moves, there is no bias for originating on film. We simply want to show the best work."

Maribell Amador, programmer at Worldfest Houston, is similarly optimistic. "It doesn't matter how a film originates. We see plenty of films that cost a lot of money and are great technically, but if the story's not there, we're not going to select them. I'm glad filmmaking is becoming so much more accessible."

Even festivals resisting DV will have to come around soon, according to Broderick. "Otherwise they'll find themselves in the position of not being able to screen some of the best new work." Says Jonathan Wells, Director of Resfest, "Down the line, every festival will be digital."

BEYOND EXHIBITION

"It's not just about exhibition and marketing anymore," says Kathleen McInnis, a programmer at the Seattle International Film Festival. It has to be about more. Festivals are moving into empowerment and education. We're teaching audiences about filmmaking and we're teaching filmmakers about filmmaking." SIFF is known for innovative programs like its "Screenwriters Salon," a series of staged readings of screenplays using professional actors, focuses on audience feedback to the writer. The "Filmmakers Forum" presents a series of interactive workshops, including master classes with top directors. A pleasant synergy occurs when festival-goers' enthusiasm for the films they watch is fueled by meeting the makers, and vice versa.

The Sundance Institute started it all with its Filmmakers and Screenwriters Labs. Every year a few hand-picked applicants are invited to Utah to work with prominent writers and directors. The goal is to develop their skills and improve their projects, and the program's success is marked by the dozens of great indie films that have emerged from the labs.

"It's getting easier to make films. People now realize they don't have to go to film school in New York or L.A.," says McInnis. "They're looking for educational opportunities closer to home. Festivals saw the void."

The Taos Talking Picture Festival did more than step in-they plunged in, presenting the sweeping, ambitious "Taos Media Forum," designed to "make media studies available to people of all educational and economic backgrounds." Meaning what? Six days of workshops, seminars and panels on everything from war photography and modern visual effects to "girl culture" and product placement. Will festival-goers really take time out from the movies to learn about media? The Taos forums were overwhelmed by people filling the aisles and sitting on the floor.

BUT THEY STILL SELL T-SHIRTS

"Festivals have become much more important in the past few years," says Broderick. "If 100 independent features were being made every year, the critics and distributors could see most of them. But with over 1,000, people rely on festivals to help them identify the best new work. And even if a given film doesn't get distribution, a festival screening draws attention to its creators' talent, and may help them find resources. That's what matters to filmmakers-the ability to keep working."

So, you made a movie? Take it to a few festivals. Make your choice from, say, 600 options. There's a good chance you could start crying long before you even get to Park City. MM