I visited the newest luxury hotel at Utah’s most elite ski resort, Deer Valley, for this year’s Sundance Film Festival—a whirlwind 48-hours of panels, premieres, and parties—and a last hurrah before the festival relocates to a new city. It’s a time of change in the entertainment industry, and the Sundance Film Festival is going through big changes of its own—moving out of state to Boulder, Colorado in 2027 after forty-six years in Park City. It’s also a time of big change for Deer Valley. The resort’s footprint is growing rapidly, with 3,700 skiable acres being added along with a new ski village—the East Village—a location that will it serious cut down the drive time from Salt Lake City to the resort by allowing skiers to get to the mountain without going through Park City traffic.
East Of Eden
The new Grand Hyatt is the first luxury hotel to open at Deer Valley’s newly minted East Village base, soon to be followed by a Four Seasons and a new ski lodge with a full-fledged ski school. The hotel is already serviced by the poshest ski lift on the mountain, the ultra-fast Keetley Express, a heated six-person lift with cushy bucket seats and a tinted plexiglass bubble that encases you in warmth on your ride up the mountain.
This ski-in, ski out luxury hotel is well-located for ski trips when proximity to the airport really matters—staying here could shave off up to an hour of commute time to and from the airport. The property has sweeping views of the Jordanelle Reservoir on one side and the mountain on the other. While the winter skiing appeal is obvious, in the summer the slopes fill with wildflowers and become a hiking and mountain biking playground. As much as I’d love to see it in July, staying here during Sundance was a particularly cool bit of wish fulfillment for me. It’s a festival I’ve been wanting to attend for decades.
I lived in Los Angeles for 15 years, and for most of that time I bartended at the essential showbiz hotel in Hollywood: The Chateau Marmont. The only time the bar ever really got quiet was during Sundance. I can still remember those quiet winter nights, when the regulars were off in Utah at the circuit of panels, premieres and parties, and it always filled me with FOMO. Before the 2025 festival kicked off, I was skiing at Deer Valley for several days, so I got to see the transformation from typical ski town to Hollywood in the snow. By the time the festival’s opening gala kicked off in the Grand Hyatt’s ballroom, I was finally in the fray.
Sundance After Dark
Having a press credential to party hop on Park City’s Main Street let me cover a lot of ground. A bit like a backstage pass that reminded me of the years I spent experiencing Hollywood celebrity from behind a hotel bar on Sunset Boulevard.
The World of Hyatt’s hospitality space hosted one of the best parties of the festival—a DJ set from Questlove that was supposed to last an hour and wound up going all night. Another party there that took me by surprise was Not Your Standard Bingo, hosted by the New York-based bingo crew from The Standard, High Line. I don’t think I’ve gotten anywhere near bingo since I got into my grandmother’s bingo blotters as a kid. Not Your Standard Bingo host Michael Stauffer, DJ Earl Grey, and his go-go dancing sidekick (flapping an Asian fan with weapon-like intensity to the beat) are seasoned pros. Hosting buzzed adults in a semi-ironic party game is a tough tone to nail, and they did just that. It takes serious skill to not be cheesy pushing the Spring Break energy in 2025, and they walked that line with aplomb. Walking down Main Street in the snow, past the big tech lounges, it was easy to get a little cynical about how the festival has evolved through the years. But then I went and saw a movie that reminded me that genuine art still happens here.
A Cure For Cynicism
On a rainy day I filed into a crowded theatre with a thousand people to watch a little movie I knew nothing about called The Ballad of Wallis Island, and something strange happened. I felt the sudden return of a feeling that I have not had in decades. I was transported back to 1990s Seattle, where I first fell in love with arthouse films—a feeling that has been stolen by the convenience of streaming. Once I got past the annoyance of the late arrivers, I settled in. Any cynicism that I may have had about the festival melted away, and I was reminded of what a film festival can do. Director James Griffiths and actors and writers Tom Basden and Tim Key made a short-film version of the movie in 2007, which they decided to revisit as a feature. By the end, there were 1,000 people in that theater with wet eyes. Another aspect of experiencing a film together with an audience that I have totally forgotten. If you want a dose of that for yourself, the film will be out in theatres this month in the U.S.
I followed that up with a book signing for the book Peter Hujar’s Day, by Linda Rosenkrantz, in honor of the Ben Whishaw and Rebecca Hall film version of her book. I watched as the 89-year-old author met Hall, who portrayed her in the film, for the first time ever. For my final night at the festival, I went to an Audible panel with the cast of the scripted podcast, The Big Fix. Seeing Jon Hamm there was a full circle moment for me: in my former life as a bartender, I poured his Maker’s on the rocks through the entire run of Mad Men. My bar was the site of every single post-awards party they threw, and in those days they seemed to win them all. I don’t have a ballpark figure for how many drinks that adds up to, but I can say with confidence that my wrist joints were never the same after the classic cocktail boom that their cast and crew not only personally sucked down at my bar, but that Mad Men inspired across the board.
When I brought up those old Chateau nights to Hamm, he flashed a big, wistful smile and we chatted about the era we shared across the bar. After coasting on my press credential through the entire festival, it turns out it was the bartender card that I naturally fell back on. I got my start in journalism trading drinks for assignments, so I guess on some level I’ll always be a barman with a pen. I’m glad I got in under the wire before the big move. As far as Park City and Deer Valley go—their best days are still to come. And the best of Sundance will also live on, because it doesn’t matter where art moves, as long as it can still move us.
