Day Zero

On Day Zero, we opened for business by 4 PM.

We worked long, long hours. I got in at noon and left just before midnight; some of my compatriots were in at 10 and left just before 10. The day work was mostly setup. We had propane heaters to erect and fill up, drape to cover the pipes, tables, chairs, and benches to deploy, and wait list numbers and tickets to obtain. We didn't have numbers until about half an hour before we were supposed to hand them out.

The theatre I work in is a working high school and an active construction site. School is in session by day, meaning we see students and teachers strolling the hallways, oblivious to the festival. The school is being expanded, part of a process underway last year, so there are trucks, tools, and construction equipment all over the place.

On top of that, the high school auditorium is also the city's primary performing arts center, a place that brings in acts like Duncan Sheik, Willie Nelson, Alvin Ailey, and many more. Somehow, we are supposed to shepherd the industry people and indie hipsters who visit from NY and LA through students, construction workers, and the local arts community to see the likes of Colin Farrell and U2 in 3D.

At this point in my Sundance career, very few things alarm or surprise me. I did have one very huffy doctor frantically trying to obtain tickets that had been promised him by a woman who was subsequently injured in a car accident. We were able to track her down by cel and get his situation worked out. We saw deer out the window around 10 PM, but they scampered off by the time i got my camera out. I heard nothing bad about Colin or his entourage.

One unique element of our theater is that we have a sizable contingent of local volunteers who work as our ticket takers and ushers, jobs that fall to Sundance volunteers in other venues. They are generally of retirement age, and all know each other. They are all good workers and in many ways easier to manage than some of the younger people I've had to deal with, but they are a tightly knit community with their own customs and insularity. Once they know who you are, you're in, but until then you get their official face, which is a little hard on new volunteers sometimes.

These volunteers are also responsible for another unique aspect of our theatre: home cooked meals. They work out a cooking schedule and bring in stews, chips, sandwich materials, and other goodies, and for a small donation those of us who work their can eat there. It's not open to anyone else, so as to help with meal planning. It's a great service because we are on the edge of town and at least a twenty minute walk from any food, and delivery is expensive and just as time consuming. We have a concession stand, but it isn't cheap either.

Altogether we have a theatre that seats over 1200 people, split between a large floor area and a balcony. We show the biggest premieres at the festival (whether for well or ill depends on your taste in movies). I oversee the traffic management of these people in and out of the theatre and conduct, through my peers, a platoon of over two dozen personnel, as well interacting with press, entourage, and senior management teams.

It's an exciting place to work, and an exciting job to have. I'm alsways quick to point out that for myself, it's not exciting in an 'OMG I just saw Colin Farrell' or 'Bono's doing the jigsaw puzzle in the hallway' kind of way. It's the rush of spinning multiple plates at once, making sure everything happens on time and that problems get resolved quickly and satisfactorily. In a way it's like a giant video game; it's that kind of rush.