What can't be said nor described

Parks City in Utah is famous throughout the United States for its beautiful snowscapes and passionate skiing arenas. However, in mid-January, without fail, this small town's theme is taken over by movies. Countless film enthusiasts and filmmakers gather here from all over the world, just like sharks smelling blood.

Some people hope to make a name for themselves here and embark on the glorious path of the film industry. Some people want to screen their own films here and find like-minded friends. Some people come here to make profits and acquire the distribution rights for blockbuster movies. In short, everyone who comes to participate in the Sundance Film Festival has their own demands and hopes to gain something here.

In the biting cold wind, Lyman walks the streets of Park City dressed in thick winter clothing, with a light gray knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. His gaze casually sweeps around, and he can see things related to movies everywhere.

Film buyers in suits hurry past on the streets; filmmakers who didn't get the chance to screen their films start outdoor screenings on the roadside; enthusiasts watch movies with smiles on their faces, their hearts filled with passion.

Before he could take a closer look, another gust of cold wind blew in Lyman's direction, creeping through the gaps of his scarf and colliding violently with his warm body. His body shivered involuntarily due to the stimulation.

"Damn, it's so cold!" René couldn't help but swear.

"If you want to show off, of course, you'll feel cold wearing so little. Can't you check the weather?" George teased René with a chuckle. There were five of them in the group. Besides Thomas, who went ahead to watch movies, there was also a financial staff member from EuropaCorp who came with George.

He was tall, even taller than René, probably around 187cm. He was also fully bundled up, with thick black gloves on his hands. He remained silent throughout the journey, seeming a bit out of place.

"Hey, Kevin, do you want to go and take a look?" George waved and asked. They were heading towards Thomas's location.

The place Thomas was watching was a small square. Even though it was approaching evening, there were still many people gathered here. In the central area, there were about ten groups using makeshift projection equipment to screen their own works. And Thomas stood where the largest crowd was gathered.

"Hey! Thomas, is the movie good?" René greeted first as they approached.

Then Lyman spoke, "You seem so engrossed. What genre is it?"

"Ah, it's a thriller about a man killing his neighbor's family," Thomas turned around and said, "It's well made, but it's too gory, and the shaky camera work is quite intense. It's a unique style."

Lyman looked inside, and the film was nearing its end. After the man killed the last female homeowner, the camera recorded his silhouette walking away under the moonlight.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap...

Applause broke out, and the onlookers didn't hesitate to show their encouragement and approval. Lyman joined in applauding as well, even though he hadn't seen the previous scenes. But as Thomas described, the director's style was well-executed, with the visuals having a grainy quality reminiscent of a documentary about murder.

Then a few film buyers in suits approached. This unexpected marketing approach was quite effective, as long as it attracted the attention of most viewers, it was likely to succeed. Perhaps this was why major film festivals were so popular. They created a favorable environment for both parties to establish contact and facilitate collaboration. Just like "The Blair Witch Project", which emerged in outdoor cinema a few years ago, every filmmaker yearned to be the next one.

"George, why don't you give it a try? With a movie like this, it should have distribution value, right?" Lyman knew that one of George's tasks was to seek opportunities at the film festival, so he spoke up.

"My main focus is still on "3 Idiots". The rest is secondary. Besides, so many companies have approached for negotiations. Adding one more won't make much of a difference. It's impossible to find any leftovers, and auctioning is too cumbersome, not to mention uncertain profits," George replied. Looking at the group of directors surrounded by men in suits, George's words seemed to make sense.

Lyman didn't think much of it and patted Thomas on the back, saying, "Let's go, let's take care of business first." After all, they were the ones with invitations, so there was no need for them to participate in outdoor screenings. Besides, they had to pay an entrance fee for this privilege, and that's why they left the hotel in the first place.

They walked through the square and turned right at an intersection, arriving at the office of the festival organizing committee. After inquiring at the entrance, they quickly found the corresponding office. After presenting their invitations and the necessary documents, they completed the necessary procedures for the screening.

"Mr. Lyman, according to the schedule, your film will be screened at around 7 p.m. tomorrow, the 19th, at the Morris Theater. You need to pay an entrance fee of $3,000, printing fees of $100, theater screening management fee of $500, and..."

Listening to the list of screening expenses, Lyman felt a headache, but he didn't say anything. These were the rules of the Sundance Film Festival, and all they had to do was comply. Anyway, it wasn't Lyman who would be paying; it was EuropaCorp responsible for covering the costs, including the travel expenses of Lyman and the other two.

After paying a total of $5,000, George completed all the procedures. This also included the fee for public relations activities, where the festival's newspaper would say good things about their film. Well, even before the premiere, they were already preparing for official film critics to sing its praises. Lyman could only say that it truly prioritized commercial interests. Since its inception, film has been hailed as the "seventh art", but it has never been so pure.

After leaving the organizing committee's office, Lyman and his group had no intention of returning to the hotel. At this moment, Park City was filled with people from the film industry like them, and it was interesting to mingle with them.

The sky was slowly enveloped in darkness, but the festive atmosphere showed no signs of diminishing. People laughed, sang, admired, danced, and indulged in their primal emotions. Passing by a bar, Lyman and the others walked in after having their fill of entertainment.

In fact, alcohol was prohibited in Park City, the host of the Sundance Film Festival, as it was under the jurisdiction of the Mormon Church. This religious group supported polygamy and opposed smoking, drinking, gambling, and other vices of human nature. But there were always exceptions. Here, there were a few bars allowed to operate, but drinking was only permitted inside. Drinking elsewhere was illegal.

The night was bone-chilling, and they all urgently wanted some alcohol to warm themselves up. "A glass of whiskey, please," René said as they approached the bar counter. He was dressed the least warmly, looking different from the others with a touch of grace. However, the price he paid for this was that his face had turned red from the cold. This was also thanks to Lyman kindly lending him his scarf; otherwise, it would have been even worse.

"A large beer," Thomas also shouted hurriedly.

"I'll have a beer too."

"A beer for me."

"A Floradora for me."

Most of the five of them chose beer, including Lyman. Kevin, on the other hand, opted for a specially mixed cocktail. As Lyman received a beer mug as wide as a palm and as tall as a face, he strolled around the bar. Many people had gathered here, occupying the three interconnected rooms of the bar, either standing or sitting. They chatted, boasted, and enjoyed the ambiance of drinking.

"Hey, Lyman, have a drink," René appeared with another beer at some point, reaching out his giant glass towards Lyman. The clinking of glasses sounded, and the two of them drank heartily.

"This place is really nice," René leaned against a corner of the wall, standing side by side with Lyman and speaking to himself. "I like places like this."

Ignoring René's sentiment, Lyman took occasional sips of his beer, surveying the people in the bar. Some had gray hair, some were young and passionate, some were silent and lonely, and some were shouting at each other... People from all over the world gathered here, drinking and celebrating together, regardless of age or background, only considering whether they got along and could drink together. A group of drunks is most pleased to meet another group of drunks.

After finishing their drinks, it was already 8 p.m. They walked in the direction of the bar, heading to a restaurant that was still open. They hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and their stomachs were filled with alcohol, so it didn't seem like a big deal. But the stomach still needed the caress of food. By now, the sky was completely dominated by darkness.

Seated by the window in the restaurant, Lyman ordered a plate of stewed noodles as his dinner. It was wonderful to eat the food while watching the hustle and bustle of people on the street, experiencing a unique atmosphere.

The lights of Park City illuminated the surroundings, and in the distance, the open space still shimmered with the distinctive glow of cinema screens. This place had turned into a city that never sleeps when it comes to screening movies. The collision of imaginative thoughts, the exchange among colleagues, the hurried pace of film buyers, and the charm of film art had turned Park City into a paradise on Earth.

It was a feeling completely different from the Venice Film Festival, and it had left an impression on Lyman as well. At Sundance, all filmmakers were willing to engage in open and sincere communication, creating an atmosphere akin to a carnival. After finishing their meal and filling their stomachs, it was time to return to the hotel.

The night had completely descended...