Last time I read something on Substack, it was two posts back-to-back about Sundance. The first one is from a woman director venting about her movie not being accepted. I looked up her film: it’s a very small doc with no known name attached and no major industry or institutional backing. Alas, filmmakers are rarely good at statistics. In that case, the chance of having her movie accepted was zero. “Why did you even submit?” I wanted to comment before reading further down: “I submitted because everyone assumes you submitted to Sundance. And then when you don’t get in, you pretend Tribeca was your first choice all along”. Not nice for Tribeca.
The second post was from a screenwriter whose movie got into Sundance. I also looked that movie up: it is co-written by the director and writer of Finding Nemo and WALL-E. It has name actors, notably Rashida Jones. Last but not least, it’s produced by Jared Ian Goldman and Searchlight Pictures, which is part of the Walt Disney Studios. A neat little Hollywood package right there.
Most Sundance-selected movies, at least for the US competition, have a director/producer who already had a movie at Sundance, a name cast, a name in the above-the-line positions, etc. Selected movies also come from various labs, including Sundance’s own. They are mentioned in Variety or The Hollywood Reporter as early as pre-production. They are tracked for months by festival programmers, though I have the feeling that festival programmers are being tracked as much as they are doing the tracking.
Most rejected movies are just… easy to ignore. If the programmer doesn’t know you, they don’t owe your movie any particular attention. Many, mostly first-timers, still imagine festival programmers as some kind of Indiana Joneses, digging through the dust of ten thousand submitted movies (Sundance numbers) to discover diamonds in the rough. Not only do programmers leave the cold submission to screeners, but hundreds of sales agents, producer reps, festival board members, or even distributors are regularly bombarding them with their very polished gems. All year long, these people email, call, organize private screenings, in other words, push their movies on the head programmers’ desks to make sure they get a slot.
This is where filmmakers should learn not only the value of zero but also of negative numbers. If movies “with assets” are insistently proposed to programmers months before your cold submission, your movie is not starting at zero, but somewhere down the line of negative numbers. Submitting cold and on the last deadline is a bit like offering your movie as a sweet puff pastry after the programming team has had a five-course meal and coffee. They have no room for it. In general, unless you consider submission fees to be donations, do not submit cold to top festivals.
Instead, try to connect with programmers. After all, they are humans, and wary of all the movies funneled to them, they might actually put one eye off the beaten path. Granted, it’s not easy to talk to people who don’t want to talk to you, but anything goes.
The head programmer of a festival where I had naively submitted my first movie cold was active on social media. One morning, he wrote, “One of our screeners doesn’t know who Marlon Brando is, lol”. This dismayed me so much that I publicly commented: “I sincerely hope that the movie I just submitted will be watched by someone who knows who Marlon Brando is”. The next day, I received an email saying that the festival screeners were all very qualified and that the head programmer would personally watch my movie. A couple of months later, my movie was accepted. Many people have the key to the head programmer’s office, so don’t feel bad asking Marlon Brando or whoever you can find alive or dead to hold the door for you.
And avoid the ‘top-down mentality’, do not submit to Tribeca because ‘Sundance did not work’. Submit to Tribeca because you want Tribeca. Tribeca is a very unique festival, starting with the fact that it doesn’t even have the word “film” in its title. Most interesting festivals are unique, and you have to know what they are before submitting.
While attending them, ask yourself questions untethered to prestige: Is the head programmer the kind of person you want to have a conversation with? Do you find the choice of movies pertinent, or is the program shapeless? What kind of Press & Industry attend - if at all? Are the panels about the movies’ themes, craft, and aesthetic (please tell me where that festival is), or are they all about AI/distribution/diversity/and financing? Does the festival have a strong identity through its programming, or is it a government display case?
I am telling filmmakers all this because I, too, used to believe in Indiana Jones programmers, and my first festival run came close to being a disaster. Through sheer luck, it ended up being a short, weird, and very interesting run. No “festival strategy” here, just the blind luck of a total newbie with no connections.
And yet, despite countless rejections, I never resented programmers. I always thought about them having to say ‘No’ to so many filmmakers, and eventually to someone they personally know. And what about having to say ‘No’ to someone famous? I’m sure you have heard about Jim Jarmusch's rant against Cannes. The festival selected his last movie, but declined to give it a competition slot. Jarmusch took his movie to Venice instead. “I’ve been in Cannes many times,” he said, “That’s not appropriate to me”, as in: a competition slot is due to me. Jarmusch’s movies were selected in competition at Cannes eight times, he won the Grand Prix once, and his last movie opened the festival. He definitely has his card for the club, but is that a reason to claim a dedicated parking spot, I mean, competition slot? What about the thousands of established film directors who think likewise that a competition slot is due to them? Or did Jarmusch actually do a good thing by showing that film directors can choose as much as they are chosen?
Regardless, I am wishing a very good end of the year to all the filmmakers submitting to festivals, to all the festival programmers who haven’t forgotten their inner Indiana Jones, and to all the screeners who know who Marlon Brando is.