Come Sunday, the screens will go dark, the volunteers will turn in their vests, the tents will fall, and the 2015 Sundance Film Festival will come to a close. But as it winds down, we’re taking a look at some of our favorite and not-so-favorite films of this year’s fest. Yesterday, we ran down and ranked this year’s documentaries; now, to the narrative films, spinning fiction while still (hopefully) telling truths.
WORST OF THE FEST
Full disclosure: I bailed on this one 75 minutes in, and maybe it got ah-mazing in the third act, but there’s only so many hours in the day to spend on reheated ‘90s Michael Douglas movies. Patrick Wilson (apparently laboring under the Keanu Reeves fallacy that lawyer = Southern draaaaaawl) is a righteous federal prosecutor who falls prey to sex addiction, which gets the full Reefer Madness treatment (best/funniest moment: a plunging office neckline sends him into a fit of sweaty, hyperventilating web surfing). The narrative is all cliché and the dialogue is the worst kind of clumsy exposition — Wilson’s boss actually refers to him as a Boy Scout, for Chrissakes. How this unintentionally hilarious mess got into Sundance is anybody’s guess, but hopefully it won’t make it out.