New home, new look? What’s next for the Sundance Film Festival? | Sundance 2026

SDon’t dance. Well, not quite. The Sundance we all know, with Robert Redford as its president and the Park City, Utah, location, is over. The festival’s beloved founder died last year, months after the festival also chose to move to Boulder, Colorado.

But on the alarmingly snow-covered ground, there was also talk about what Sundance as a whole, once the shining beacon of American independent cinema, could become as it entered a new phase. There were films that were as notable as ever, but then again they weren’t completely It’s enough to transcend concerns about what the festival now represents in a harsh new world where it’s arguably easier to make an independent film (or whatever it might be called putting together parts of an AI slob) but harder to sell.

The festival’s identity has long been associated with both Redford and Utah as well as a particular type of film and a particular definition of independent cinema. The age-old dream trajectory of a Sundance film — enthusiastic reception at premiere, hot all-night auction, sleeper success upon theatrical release, and perhaps some Oscar nominations afterward — is something that is harder, if not downright impossible, to achieve in this spectacle. There are textbook examples of this work – films like Little Miss Sunshine, Napoleon Dynamite, Garden State and The Big Sick – but now there are more barriers in the way as well as a generation of filmmakers who grew up on these films and are trying hard to conjure the same magic. Attention-hungry attendees and critics who follow There was Patti Cake$, Brittany Runs a Marathon, Blinded by the Night, Late Night, and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, all of which barely existed outside of Utah, and while there were always the Sundance gambles that didn’t pay off (Happy, Texas, or Hamlet 2, anyone?),

The idea of ​​a Sundance movie has slowly changed and been stratified over time — the horror movie, the must-see documentary, the blockbuster, the award-winning comedy-drama, the hot rod for more commercial work — and this year has given us all that and more. And again, it’s the films that seem less refined, less factory-produced to appeal to the Sundance audience, that fare best. Last year, the narrative standouts for me were films like Lurker (a dark music industry thriller about obsession and celebrity), Twinless (a genre-bending story about sex, lies, and identity), Together (a wild body horror thriller based on extreme codependency) and If I Had Legs I’d Kick You (a darkly funny swirl about the exhaustion of motherhood), all of which were uniquely crafted, and not designed to speak to a past Sundance or appease audiences in a new offering. one.

In a similar vein, the best film I saw this year was Josephine, a devastating film about the aftermath of an eight-year-old girl witnessing sexual assault in a way we’ve never seen before. On paper, it sounds very familiar (“Serious Issue” drama is another Sundance subgenre), but director Beth de Araujo turns it into something wholly original and deeply moving, a patriarchal nightmare that exists somewhere close to horror without ever veering into exploitation exploitation. It was the film that everyone was literally talking about (and one that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since) and it achieved the relatively unusual thing of winning both the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award. The Grand Jury Prize itself has lost much of its meaning (Nanny, Atropia, and In the Summers are all recent, little-known winners), but scooping both was reserved for films with brighter futures (Minari, Coda, Whiplash, Fruitvale Station). I can see Channing Tatum, who plays one of the most well-written and performed patriarchal characters I’ve seen in some time, getting hot awards (I’ll be shocked if it’s not Best Supporting Actor this time next year) but the movie still doesn’t sell. I imagine it’s down to the difficulty of the subject matter (the uncensored rape scene is a very difficult one) but also to the uncomfortable way it’s handled (I’m told a producer walked out after exclaiming: “That’s it, I’ve had enough!”).

It is also still a slower sales market than it used to be. Sundance is our most market-oriented film festival, with the vast majority of films being screened without distribution, but buyers are becoming more wary — at least outside of those with the most money (see: Netflix). At the end of last year’s festival, films starring Jennifer Lopez, Josh O’Connor, Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman found no buyers, while this year it was similarly quiet.

There’s been excitement about Olivia Wilde’s The Invite, which had a premiere on Saturday night (Wilde called it “the best night of my life”). The star-studded acid comedy, starring Wilde, Seth Rogen, Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton as a couple who bicker and flirt during an increasingly bizarre and revealing night together, played like gangsters, and as someone who has sat through many an unfunny festival comedy that still finds laughter from an audience eager to make a fool of themselves, this was a rare group experience I could partake in. It led to an old-fashioned auction with almost every major studio or streamer making an offer, but Wilde, who has shown herself to be a craftsman filmmaker who truly cares about classic cinema, rightfully demanded a theatrical release and found the film a home at A24. I’d say it’s a more sophisticated studio comedy than a “great” indie (after all, I was hoping the new independent Warner would win Toronto more than Sundance) but a reported $12 million-plus sale for a film worth more than that. Wilde thoroughly enjoyed the festival, also impressing with a very different comedic turn in Gregg Araki’s tepid I Want Your Sex, and got a good place in the ball, which many expected Charli xcx to snag, as it has been revealed in three films. But her big fictitious doc The Moment, whose roles have been underwhelming and undersized in comedies, does little to reassure that her big-screen assault (there are more movies to come) will be as big as Brat.

The other major sale, albeit on a much smaller scale, was a much more organic Sundance success story: a small Australian horror film called Leviticus. I’m still cool with the somewhat misleading title, but the film, about a conversion therapy curse that causes gay teens to be plagued by a demon that resembles the one person they desperately desire, was a knockout. The immediate hot rivalry comparisons seemed a little SEO-inspired (gay sex actually existed before this show), but I think its inevitable success helped push a movie like this, which was heavy on gay love and lust, from chill maybe to neon yes. The company, which has had significant awards success in recent years and a solid horror track record, paid about $5 million, which at least takes the pressure off the film to be a blockbuster (Together’s $17 million sale last year resulted in just $21 million at the U.S. box office). With a smart campaign and almost perfect critical result so far, it could be a nice small-scale late-summer break, if not a huge hit for Talk to Me. It also helped maintain the festival’s horror credentials with other disappointing performances (Buddy, Rock Springs, Saccharine).

Disappointments, well, there were a lot of them, most of which felt like weak attempts to speak to older, better Sundance films (over-directed and underwritten small-town dramas like Carousel and Chasing Summer). Worse was Cathy Yan’s Dead Pigs-directed The Gallerist, which squandered revenue from Natalie Portman, Jenna Ortega, Devin Joy Randolph and Catherine Zeta-Jones. It was annoying and not at all funny (although it was short, like most Sundance films, it didn’t feel like it), plus it had the misfortune of premiering right after The Invite, where the laughs dissipated into groans. Despite the cast (three Oscar winners!), there was no buzz about a potential sale.

The festival kicked off on the same day as Oscar nominations, which brought good news for last year’s feature films — nods to If I Had Two Legs I’d Kick You and Trail of Dreams — but great news for documentaries. Last year, four of the five documentaries nominated for their Sundance premiere were, but this year it was all five, as the festival has turned into the most desirable venue for a nonfiction film premiere, and while this year was lighter on the more obvious breakthroughs, there was enough to suggest that the Academy might once again turn to the festival for recommendations. The doc everyone was talking about was Once Upon a Time in Harlem, a fascinating collection of archival footage from a 1970s dinner party that reunited key figures from the Harlem Renaissance. Summer of Soul, which premiered at the festival and was a film that breathed new life into old footage also in Harlem, managed to pick up an Oscar, so while sales news is quiet, I expect a flood of screenings.

With whispers about who could buy what’s mostly limited to The Invite, most people I spoke to were more curious about what Sundance might become when it moves to Boulder. The festival maintained a steady stream of well-heeled Utah attendees who had little respect for personal space (I’ve never had more jackets opened over or above me in my life) but plenty of money I could spend on priority passes and first-show tickets. There will be a similar community in Colorado with similar big hats, but it will take some time to engage them, especially with the Denver and Telluride Film Festivals already being held in the state. What the state does have on its side are better policies (there’s been concern about leaving Utah as anti-LGBT legislation increases among other issues), more affordable accommodations, and the hope that a more diverse swath of critics will be able to attend (Park City is still absurdly overpriced).

The bigger questions are more existential. What is Sundance now? What do we want or need from independent cinema? What does the system allow or encourage in its current state? Changing the location won’t change the movies that are made, and while the quality may have languished, it remains an important American institution especially as outrageous new mergers threaten to squeeze the underdog. Sundance will return next year in Colorado with a lot of expectations, and hopefully the update means there will be less focus on the old and more on the new.