Let's Stop Dreaming About Sundance.

Because what worked in 1993 is not going to work in 2023.

After writing several screenplays and hitting a wall of financial reality after each one, I researched how other writer/directors funded their projects. There seem to be about six methods, and three are irrelevant for obvious reasons: coming from wealth, living in a country that supports the arts, and becoming an A-list actor/writer/comedian first.

That brings me to the first option that actually seems possible: Sundance. A lot of today’s working directors got their start at Sundance. Since the 90s, it’s been really common for writer/directors to make a short film, premiere it at the festival, and then turn that short into a feature film, either with the help of the Sundance Institute or donors. This method worked for Wes Anderson, Paul Thomas Anderson, Damien Chazelle, and recently Emma Seligman.

This plan certainly sounds the best because obviously instant praise, recognition, funding, and success would be incredible.

First, let’s look at the reality of getting into Sundance. Take a minute to review the submission stats because they’re pretty sobering:

• 1985. Submissions: unknown. Selections: 86, including The Coen’s Blood Simple. Acceptance rate: 100%??

• 1992. Submissions: 250. Selections: 134 including Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. Acceptance rate: 54%.

• 1993. One of Sundance’s self-proclaimed best years. Submissions: 250. Selections: 141. Acceptance rate: 56%.

  • 50 short films were shown, including Wes Anderson’s Bottle Rocket and Paul Thomas Anderson’s Cigarettes and Coffee.

• 1996. Submissions: 1,950. Selections: 184, including Paul Thomas Anderson’s Hard Eight, which had been supported by the Sundance Institute. Acceptance rate: ~10%.

• 2020. Sundance received 15,000 submissions, including features, shorts, and episodic content. They selected 244 projects. Average acceptance rate: 1.5%. Short film acceptance rate: 0.6%.

I’m admittedly terrible at math, but I know enough to understand that 0.6% is a shot in the dark. And to get more granular, the selection committee chooses just 60 short films total from around the world, meaning the programmers are undoubtedly intentional about curating a range of films that reflect the full human experience. So unless a short film is truly incredible, there’s only a teeny tiny chance of following in the footsteps of someone like Wes Anderson.

Now let’s take a moment to talk about the money aspect. The first three shorts I made were about the cost of a Black Magic. We shot in locations we had access to, we acted ourselves, and we did all our own post-production. They were practice films, and I would have never, ever submitted them to Sundance. Then last year, I made a short (“Burnout”) with a high budget and larger cast and crew. The film just premiered at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival. But even with a simple idea, calling in favors, shooting it outdoors, and keeping costs low, I spent somewhere around $10,000. I’m proud of the film and so glad I made it, but producing a short film of this quality was a much larger financial investment than I expected.

Let me say this clearly: I’m not saying that you shouldn’t submit to Sundance. In fact, you probably should. You might be the filmmaker they’re looking for. My only point is that for someone like me, banking on a film festival as a Plan A, B, or even C feels like a great way to set myself up for crushing disappointment if it’s my only plan to get my feature made. In reality, submitting to Sundance or TIFF or Cannes or SXSW is about as dependable as buying a lottery ticket that costs between $5 and $25,000 dollars.

So after thinking through all of this, instead of spending money and time to turn your feature into a short, wouldn’t you rather make a super cheap ass FEATURE film — one that you can actually afford to make? 

Next week we’ll officially start with step 1, but for now I’ll leave you with this read: “Welcome to the No-Budget Era” (Esquire, March 2023)

Today’s debut feature rec:

Barking Dogs Never Bite by Bong Joon-Ho