hen I got the opportunity to report on the Sundance Film Festival, I was excited and terribly nervous at the same time. As a student journalist in Utah, I’d heard about Sundance’s legendary events, from velvet ropes to career-defining premieres, but I’d never been the first “set of eyes” on a potential piece of cinema history.
Stepping into Park City this year felt like entering a beautiful, chaotic contradiction. It was my first time reporting from the trenches, but it was shadowed by a heavy realization: this is probably the last time Sundance will be in Park City. It was a “hello” and a “goodbye” all wrapped into ten frantic days. In a journalism classroom, you’re afforded the luxury of time. You spend weeks polishing an outline, days chasing down sources or even hours debating a lead. But in the field at Sundance, that luxury disappears. For a lot of stories, reporting is a matter of now or never.
The festival taught me about the “professional sprint.” I had to find a story, verify it, and file it in a matter of hours, not days. Being thrown into that high-pressure environment was the most valuable lesson of my academic career— it was about far more than the celebrity sightings or the prestige; it was about realizing that I could rise to the occasion. I could navigate the crowds, pivot when an interview fell through, and meet a deadline all while my fingers were numb from the cold. It was a masterclass in adaptability. I entered as a college student worried about getting everything “right” and left as a journalist who had told stories.
While everyone wanted to know which stars were spotted at the local cafes, I found myself drawn to a different narrative. Beyond the glitter of the premieres, there was this elephant in the room with all the lasts. The last premier, the last party, and the last Main Street crawl for locals and visitors.
Reporting from the festival, I had to balance the thrill of the glamor with the reality at hand. I spent my time talking to the people who were either sad to see it go or could not wait for the silence. The ones who have seen the festival evolve over decades and are now facing an uncertain future as the festival explores new host cities. This wasn’t just a movie junket; it was a story about community and the end of an era.
There is a certain irony in finally finding my footing on the Park City slopes just as the festival packs its bags. Regardless of Sundance’s departure, the experience sticks with me. I arrived as a spectator and left as a storyteller, forever grateful that I got to say hello to my career just as I said goodbye to an iconic Utah tradition.
This story is jointly published by Salt Lake magazine and non-profit Amplify Utah to elevate perspectives in local media through student and emerging journalism.
