Defamer At Sundance: Day One On Main Street: A Photo Essay
We don't want to go into why we're posting this photo essay documenting our first run up and down Main Street on Saturday, but suffice it to say that overcompensating for the lower alcohol content of the Park City booze with volume made the midday hunt for WiFi seem a little less pressing. Can we call it "exhaustion" and move on?
Above, we'd barely taken a dozen steps onto Main before coming face-to-face with Crispin Glover, the onetime drug-addled David Letterman terrorizer who more recently roundhouse kicked Cameron Diaz and her empowered gal-pals in Charlie's Angels, walking around with a blonde who looked like she might need fake ID to buy a Zima. Nicely done, sir.
After the jump, the rest of our delightful cameraphone-assisted romp through the festival's clotted artery.
The ski lift at the base of Main Street (conveniently located just feet away from the Heineken, Yahoo, and W Hotel hospitality offerings) reminds us that the option to end our festival coverage early by seeking out annihilation through a high-speed collision with a studio executive who "just felt like doing the outdoorsy thing" is always tantalizingly close.
At the Phillips Lounge, the company proudly displayed its home defibrillator kit, which might mean the difference between life and death should you suffer a heart attack in front of one of their huge, fancy flat-panel televisions.
In an effort to entice the many celebrities roaming the festival to eschew the more popular Mercedes Benz brand in favor of more reasonably priced Volkswagens in their high-speed chases with lead-footed photographers, VW invites them to play around with their surprisingly realistic Lindsay Lohan Paparazzi Smack-Up Simulator.
(If you've noticed that everything seems to be brand-related, that's less due to the suffocating corporatization of Sundance than it is to the thousands of dollars they're all paying us to favorably feature their brands. This parenthetical aside is brought to you by Motorola.)
During the festival, fashion-forward d-girls can personally select the enormous poodle that will be slaughtered and made into a pair of ridiculous boots for them.
There is perhaps no better way to say "I'm the biggest asshole in at least a 300-foot radius" than by jamming up the already absurd Main Street traffic with your double-parked stretch Hummer.
The Duke, prominently featured in no less than two storefront windows on the east side of Main, is easily the most popular merkin-stapled-to-a-jockstrap-based garment at the festival. Can't wait to get one with the movie's logo on it at the Thank You For Smoking party.
