Saturday, January 20----It borders on heresy, but after spending the last two evenings attempting to attend parties TO WHICH I WAS OFFICIALLY INVITED, I am loudly proclaiming for all to hear: "Fuck the parties!". Of course, trying to crash parties is one of the key Sundance sports, along with ticket scalping and Redford spotting. The fever begins in the early part of the day, as information on the night's soirees heat up cel phones and email connections. What's on? Where is it? How do I get an invitation? How many people can I get in on one sole invite? The obsession with getting into parties (and bragging about it afterwards, of course) threatens to eclipse serious discussion on the films, making the screenings a necessary if unglamorous appendage to the real deal....getting into this or that exclusive bash.

The streets of Main Street become clogged by 6:00pm each evening, with hopefuls plying their trade and using all their wit and guile to corral entry. And adding to the exclusive entry policy, and the bullying security guards who are positioned outside each club like Sherman tanks, is the fact that most party spaces on Main Street are either storefronts or restaurants, that have a limited capacity. In short, the space fills up almost immediately, and for those of us who would never consider attending anything without being fashionably late, by the time we sophisticates arrive, the jig is up.

Or so has been my experience. Two parties to which I was not only invited but seriously courted to attend, were already filled to capacity when I arrived 30 minutes after their start. Long lines were beginning to form, with frenzied handlers being buffeted from all sides by pushy proletarians, none of whom actually had invitations. For someone like myself, who knows to come with a printed copy of the invite in my hot little hands, the waters do not, in fact, part. I am told that I need to wait in the back of the line like everyone else, and am not assured of getting in even if I was to agree to wait the obligatory sixty to ninety minutes. And may I remind those of you reading this in the warmth and comfort of your homes or offices, that we are talking about an environment where evening temperatures plunge to 7 degrees Farenheit....not exactly the balmy breezes of Cannes in May.

As a publicist said to me the other day: do you really need to go to one more party? Well, no. But there can be a nice atmosphere, if the numbers are kept in check, and those included are real Festival participants, not just hangers-on, bored suburban teenagers looking for a thrill, or goo-goo-eyed tourists hoping to spot a celebrity face. The more civilized cocktail receptions held during the day are more my cup of tea, a place to meet one's peers and, heresy, actually discuss films.

So, I have decided for my personal safety and mental health that I am only interested in attending events where I am welcomed. The rest can jostle for an available inch of inclusion. I'm here for the films...that's my party (and I'll cry if I want to).

Sandy Mandelberger
Sundance Online Dailies Editor