Before I had ever attended the Sundance Film Festival, I imagined the event as this small mountain town overrun with an abundance of celebrities, who could be seen just walking around, outnumbering the actual moviegoers. Why? Because that's what a lot of the media concentrates on. And yes, when I did finally attend, I was able to spend five minutes walking up Main Street, in which little time I walked past Evan Rachel Wood, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Tom Arnold and others. Sure, they weren't the biggest names, but it seemed my imagined world actually existed. Of course, most of the big celebs are probably not walking around so casually. But I wouldn't know; the rest of the fest I spent my time watching 37 features, mostly far away from Main Street and the celebs, inside the Yarrow Hotel's press screening rooms.

For many attendees, though, it's all about the celeb sightings and the big-name movies, of which Sundance seems to premiere more and more of each year. However, 2007 didn't seem to have as many popular titles (as far as I noticed from my non-attending standpoint). In contrast, the 2008 festival appears to have more stars than the Academy Awards ceremony. Some of the big films that will be premiering or screening this year include Michel Gondry's Be Kind Rewind, Barry Levinson's What Just Happened?, Morgan Spurlock's new doc Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden?, Michael Haneke's Funny Games (U.S.), George Romero's Diary of the Dead and the directorial debut of Michael Keaton, The Merry Gentleman. And, for the sightseers, some of the attending stars include Robert DeNiro, Sean Penn, Maria Bello, William Hurt, Sharon Stone, Bruce Willis, Dennis Quaid, Ellen Page, Ben Kingsley, Ewan McGregor, Sean Combs, Julianne Moore, Charlize Theron, Brian Cox, John Malkovich, Matthew Broderick, Jacqueline Bisset, Meg Ryan, Jack Black and Mia Farrow.

For the rest, head over to Variety for the full list of films and of course their big-name casts.

When I got my Entertainment Weekly Fall Movie Preview in the mail the other day, I was excited to see that Anthony Hopkins' Slipstream was to be released October 26. But the film, which is Hopkins' debut as a screenwriter (he has directed before), didn't seem to have a distributor. Well, now it has one, but it's a bit smaller than I would have expected or hoped. Strand Releasing picked up domestic rights and will give the film a limited release on the date given by EW. The real exposure will apparently come with video, as Sony will put out the DVD sometime (probably early) next year. Hopkins recently won directing and acting honors for Slipstream at the Locarno International Film Festival, but the film is supposedly not even worthy of theatrical distribution. Variety's review from Sundance says, "without the name of Hopkins and those of cast members mixing usually reliable stars and actors, project would be commercially DOA; only a minuscule theatrical window seems possible, with most curiosity seekers wading through the undoubtedly extras-filled DVD."

Well, call me one of the curiosity seekers. Slipstream, which co-stars Christian Slater, John Turturro, Michael Clarke Duncan, Jeffrey Tambor and Camryn Manheim, is described by Hopkins as "a comedy of the absurd," and that is actually good enough for me. Of course, mainstream audiences don't share the same interest in weird stuff, so I guess the small release is fair. Another thing that doesn't really appeal to normal moviegoers is films about filmmaking, and Slipstream is set in the movie biz. It follows a screenwriter (Hopkins) working on a murder-mystery who has trouble discerning the difference between the real world and the one he's written. According to the Hollywood Reporter synopsis, "his brain begins to implode, captured in the film through a nonlinear, hallucinogenic narrative." I can't wait, even if it is as bad as they say.

Who doesn't love Screen Media Films? Without them, we wouldn't be able to rent The Karate Dog, featuring the voice of Chevy Chase, or the spoof Disaster! The Movie, with the voices of all of Mötley Crüe. Okay, so they don't just distribute bad straight-to-video titles -- they also allow us to see the mediocre directorial offerings of Kevin Bacon and Chazz Palminteri. And they must be doing something right, because they have a great distribution deal with Universal Home Entertainment, and now they also have enough money to expand.

This week, at Sundance, Screen Media will debut its new theatrical division. The company has distributed films to theaters before, such as Bacon's Loverboy, but never on a big scale. Their first release will be Bickford Shmeckler's Cool Ideas, a comedy that Scott saw at SXSW last year (he called it "one of the more colorful surprises" of the fest). They apparently will also be distributing Weirdsville, which premieres next week at Slamdance.

Anyway, this is mostly important news for any filmmakers out there in Park City who can't seem to find a good deal. Look for the Screen Media reps. You could be in the same library as The 12 Dogs of Christmas! And if you think you're better than that, just remember the photo above, because surely Jon Voight once thought he was better too.

Apparently, Robert Redford wants 2007 to be the year of the shorts. No, he isn't referring to the ridiculously warm weather we've been having this winter. He means it is time for short films to get the kind of recognition feature films receive, and he's hoping this year to see it happen. Redford's Sundance Institute has always been a big supporter of shorts, and it showcases a number of them at the Sundance Film Festival, but unfortunately they tend to get overshadowed by the buzz of the better-publicized features. This year may be different, though, as many of the festival's shorts program will be distributed to iTunes, each for sale at the price of $1.99.

This won't be the first time that outsiders will have the chance to see Sundance shorts. For years the festival has streamed a selection of them for free on its website. But the Institute is hoping to reach a wider audience through iTunes, and it sees the deal as predominantly beneficial for the shorts' filmmakers. However, not all of the shorts' filmmakers will get the opportunity. The download service can only offer about half of the 71 films in the program, mostly due to rights issues.

This should be good news for fans of our "Eat My Shorts!" column, which will spotlight Erik's recommended Sundance shorts once the festival gets underway.

I've become something of a Nick Broomfield junky lately. Thanks to Michael Moore, I had otherwise become averse to documentary filmmakers who appear in their work, but Broomfield has charmed me unlike anyone else (save for maybe Ross McElwee), and so I make an exception for his work. Years ago, when Jon Ronson discussed these filmmakers, whom he calls "Les Nouvelles Égotistes" in Sight and Sound, he called this charm "faux-naïfery," but regardless of how genuine Broomfield is, he is always entertaining and he is always a curious and primarily objective journalist. Comparatively, he is more focused than McElwee and less rabble rousing than Moore. The fact that Broomfield's new doc, Ghosts, has been picked to screen at Sundance in January, has me very sorry that I won't be making it to the festival this year.

My appreciation for Broomfield may fall some in the future, though, if news of his next project has any validity to it. The North County Times has mentioned a casting call for a film being credited to Broomfield to be made about the Iraq War experience. This call is for members or veterans of any military branch who served in Iraq, and will be held in San Diego this Saturday and in Yuma, Arizona, this Sunday. Aside from my confusion over the story's reference to Broomfield as being "the maker of Jarhead and Fast and the Furious 3" and my slight problem with the use of the masculine term "servicemen", I have a major issue with the project as it is described. I don't mean my usual issue with the over-abundance of Iraq War vet docs being made, I mean some things stated in a telephone recording that I listened to after calling the film's casting hotline. An unprofessional-sounding woman stumbles through the recording and eventually gets to the point that the production is looking for real vets rather than actors because of a desire for improvisation based on real accounts. Oh, and she says that the film is scripted and that those picked for the film will be paid.

None of the information that I have found about this "documentary" seems to technically be descriptive of a non-fiction film. Does this mean that we should question all of Broomfield's previous films, which include Kurt & Coutney, Biggie and Tupac and two docs about Aileen Wuornos? Sure, you could say that no documentary should be taken as truth, but there is a good line between disbelief and distrust.

I am still waiting to hear from Broomfield's people to see if they confirm or deny this unfortunate report. Let's hope they can explain what this is all about.

Being associated with Oscar is a very good thing indeed. Films that win an Academy Award (or many) will typically see a boost in ticket sales. Before that, the nomination alone benefits their box office performance. Now it appears that simply being shortlisted has its advantages, too. One day after the Academy released its narrowed-down list of feature documentary contenders, ThinkFilm announced they've picked up the rights to one of the films on that list. The company will distribute The Trials of Darryl Hunt, which was produced by HBO Films and directed by Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg. The doc premiered last January at Sundance and in April it won the audience award at the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival.

It tells the story of Darryl Hunt, a black man who was tried and convicted for the rape and murder of white newspaper reporter Deborah Sykes in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, in 1984. Hunt was sentenced despite there being no physical evidence, simply off a testimonial given by a former Ku Klux Klan member. After ten years, in 1994, a DNA test cleared Hunt of the charges, yet he wasn't released from prison for another eight years.

The film would probably make for a good, though upsetting, double-header with the 2005 Sundance Special Jury Prize winner After Innocence, which examines the difficult process of re-entering society following, and despite, being exonerated. Unfortunately, such a double-header will likely never happen on television, since After Innocence was produced by HBO competitor Showtime. After Innocence was also shortlisted for the doc feature Oscar last fall, but didn't garner a nomination. Still, it did okay in limited release and gets occasional play on Showtime (including this Thursday morning). The Trials of Darryl Hunt, which was set to premiere on HBO sometime in 2007, will now get a theatrical and DVD release courtesy of ThinkFilm.

Do we need another documentary about the 1968 Democratic National Convention? More importantly, after almost 40 years, do we need even one film about that turbulent week in August? The answer to both questions is, yes. The thing is, aside from Medium Cool, which is only part-documentary, I can't think of any docs that actually focus specifically on the convention and the infamous protests/riots that ensued in Chicago at the time (that doesn't mean there are none). And as far as the significance and relevancy of such a film, well, in my opinion it could serve us an inspiration for young people looking to take action in 2008.

Anyway, there is a new film about the DNC, and it is called Chicago 10. The doc, which was directed by Brett Morgen, has just been announced as the opening film for the 2007 Sundance Film Festival. It may seem strange for a nonfiction film to kickoff the fest, but it isn't the first time. In 2004, Stacy Peralta's Riding Giants was the opener.

Chicago 10 reportedly tells the story of the DNC protests thoroughly, including the courtroom trial of the "Chicago 7" a year later, using an innovative style combining animation, archival footage and interviews. The film will also feature music from the period as well as revolutionary music of today, which is likely meant to parallel the current political atmosphere with that of the late 1960s.

The rest of the Sundance line up will be announced after the Thanksgiving weekend.

It is going to be tough for awhile, looking up at the Trust poster on my wall. For as big a fan of Hal Hartley's films as I am, I was taken aback by the news this morning that actress Adrienne Shelley, who starred in Hartley's films The Unbelievable Truth and, of course, Trust, was found dead in her office on Wednesday evening. The cause of death is still unknown, even after an autopsy was performed Thursday, though police are awaiting more results from that autopsy.

I always thought of Shelly as an important part of the New York independent film scene, not just for her Hartley roles, which were her first, but also because she never really broke into Hollywood despite all the buzz she received in the early '90s. She called New York home and even titled her first directorial feature Sudden Manhattan. Her second film, I'll Take You There won her a best director award at the U.S. Comedy Festival, and her third, Waitress, which stars Keri Russell and Nathan Fillion, just recently finished shooting. As far as acting, she'd recently appeared in Factotum, but she was more interested in focusing on writing and directing, and taking care of her 3-year-old daughter. It is unfortunate that we'll never get to see how successful her filmmaking career could have been.

Shelly was waiting to hear whether or not Waitress would screen at Sundance in January when she died. I'd like to suggest that the festival not only give the film a slot, but also give her a special tribute of some kind as well.

UPDATE: Shelly was reportedly murdered.

Remakes are always defended in ways that make the general public appear as idiots. Old films are remade because people don't remember, foreign films are remade because people don't like to read subtitles and documentaries are remade because they teach us stuff. But any documentary that can be remade as a dramatic feature is different from docs that just teach us stuff. They already have an engaging narrative and interesting characters -- otherwise producers wouldn't see the remake potential. Rather than finding new ways to market enjoyable docs to moviegoers, I guess it's easier to do the remake, so filmmakers have an easy movie to make and sell, therefore providing two films to be profited on.

I guess the reason that I'm even more angry this time is because Murderball, which has inspired an upcoming project for director James Mangold, is probably the most entertaining, most easily accessible documentary that has ever existed. Sure it teaches us stuff, but it's also hilarious, action-packed and feel-good. Besides, nobody could play lead murderball (aka wheelchair rugby) player Mark Zupan in a way that would better his own appearance in the Oscar-nominated, Sundance-winning doc. Certainly not Eminem, who expressed an interest last year.

If Vietnam was the first televised war and the Gulf War could be considered the first 24-hour coverage war (thanks to CNN), then the Iraq War might be called the most-first-hand-documented. Thanks to the more-immediate technologies of digital filmmaking, documentaries have been in abundance since the beginning of the conflict, giving us everything from ground-troop-shot films to quickly released looks at its aftermath. At this year's Tribeca Film Festival, films took us into battle alongside American soldiers (The War Tapes) and Iraqi insurgents (The Blood of My Brother) and brought us back home with the vets (When I Came Home; Home Front). Despite an overload of these documentaries, there still can't be enough of them, as they provide us with countless points of view and an immeasurable acquaintance with the reality of the ins and outs of the war.

Patricia Foulkrod's The Ground Truth: After the Killing Ends, which screened at this year's Sundance Film Festival, could be considered just another film about the homecoming of U.S. troops and their difficult return to civilian life, but despite its sharing two faces with When I Came Home (featured interviewees Paul Reickhoff and Herold Noel), the differences between the two films mark an apparent allowance for numerous looks into the subject matter. While covering Tribeca, I actually decided to skip the Iraqi vet pic Home Front, thinking it would be hard to handle too many similar films (it screened the same day as When I Came Home and The Blood of My Brother). Now I feel that there is no such thing as too many when it comes to understanding this or any war. It is the same reason that movies about WWII and Vietnam will continue to be made; the difference is that with documentaries, the immediacy of the truth seems to hit a little harder.

American independent cinema frequently introduces us to customs and traditions we might not see otherwise. Films about unfamiliar wedding ceremonies, ethnic neighborhoods and religious ceremonies are given exposure year after year, thanks mostly to audiences who want to see something new or different. Sure, the films may often be the result of minority filmmakers representing their backgrounds for all to see, but it is the common moviegoers who curiously accept and enable these cultural showcases.

Now we have Quinceañera, which skips the representative filmmaker and fittingly shows us a community from a detached perspective -- our perspective, and the filmmakers'. Written and directed by two white guys (Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland), the film looks at the coming of age of a young Mexican-American girl, and of her L.A. neighborhood, Echo Park, from clearly an outsider's point of view.

Forget about Clerks II. If you desire a great movie about a guy who serves food and insults, then you must instead see Matt Mahurin's I Like Killing Flies, a documentary that is more hilarious and more genuinely sweet than anything in Kevin Smith's latest celebration of inanity. Surely you will find more enjoyment from a celebration of originality, anyway, and Flies delivers a wonderful showcase of a more positive kind of nonconformity.

The movie presents Kenny Shopsin, a foul-mouthed yet lovable iconoclast who presides over and prepares the 900-plus (yes, 900-plus!) menu items at Shopsin's, a small breakfast-and-lunch joint he opened over thirty-five years ago with his wife, Eve, in New York's West Village. Originally a corner general store that gradually gained popularity for its take-out sandwiches, Shopsin's became a full-on restaurant in 1982, at which time Kenny's strict set of rules was likely put into place to keep his business from getting out of control. These rules include no more take-out, no suits (aka yuppie-scum), no cell phones, no indecisiveness, no ordering a dish someone else has ordered (that moment or that day), no sitting if you're not eating, no parties of five or more (and no pretending you're a party of three and a party of two), no appealing any of the rules, and no surprise if Kenny makes a new rule for you on the spot. Anyone breaking or attempting to break these rules, even if ignorant of them, risk being banned from Shopsin's for life.

The full synopsis of Géla Babluani's 13 (Tzameti) is not quite a secret in the same way as those of a lot of modern thrillers. The end is not a surprise, nor is it a twist, but for me to give it away would certainly ruin one of the film's greatest elements, which is its suspenseful first act. Sadly, the film's trailer, official plot outline and other critics are giving it away, and if you haven't already happened upon the spoilers, it may be difficult to avoid them. Just be aware that going in with knowledge of what the second act entails could make you bored for awhile.

The film opens with 22-year-old Sébastian (played by Géla's brother, Georges Babluani) starting a new roofing job, one which promises a good sum of money to help him support his poor family. After a few days of work, though, he begins to doubt whether he will be receiving his advance, let alone his total amount. Then one day Sébastian overhears his client, Godon (Philippe Passon), discuss a lucrative job he's about to undertake. The assignment, details of which Godon doesn't reveal, is hush-hush enough that its instructions are to be only partially delivered to him via post. When the envelope arrives it contains only a train ticket and a prepaid hotel bill.

After getting all weepy from watching Hotel Rwanda, I wasn't sure I could take another film about the Rwanda genocide. At least, not another dramatization of the tragedy, anyway. Rwanda is a well-made movie with excellent performances by Don Cheadle and Sophie Okonedo, but it really tugs on the emotions with deliberate fists. More informative and more insightful is the documentary Shake Hands with The Devil: The Journey of Roméo Dallaire, which won the Audience Award at Sundance in 2005. Dallaire, who was partially the model for Nick Nolte's fictional character in Rwanda, was the commanding officer for the U.N.'s presence during the devastating events of 1994, and the documentary is based on his book of the same name.

Now, for no reason other than documentaries aren't as popular, the book is being adapted into a dramatic film called, simply, Shake Hands With the Devil. The film will be directed by Roger Spotiswoode (The 6th Day) and will star Roy Dupuis (The Barbarian Invasion) as Dallaire. The book is pretty long and it covers a lot of ground so it is hard to imagine all of it fitting into a movie. Since docs can generally fit more exposition into a feature-length running time, you're better off seeing Peter Raymont's Sundance winner instead. But if you like being made to cry more than think, by all means wait for the new version.

Perchance may we have a new "protagonist returns home to quirky family" indie every month? In February it was Winter Passing, and now in March we have Lonesome Jim, the third feature directed by character actor Steve Buscemi. Premiering at Sundance in 2005, Lonesome Jim shared the festival's obligatory slot for the subgenre I like to call "homecoming-of-age" that year with Junebug, a film receiving more acclaim thanks to Amy Adams' amazing, Oscar-nominated performance that altogether forgives for its miscarried script.

Based on their frequency, as well as on their banality and oftentimes their feebleness, scripts in this category would seem to be the easiest to write. What novice filmmaker can't fall back on relating to what he or she knows, whether major fear or horrible experience, of what it is like to return home after losing either a parent or the confidence of an artistic goal? Not all of these stories have autobiographical roots but most, like those in the younger-focused coming-of-age genre, project an association between the main character and the storyteller, giving an always upbeat outlook beyond the last scene regardless of its apparent literal direction.