COVER STORY

BOSTONIAN LISA VIOLA:
She Wears The Sundance Documentary Mantle

By Laura Bernieri

Little did Lisa Viola know what she was getting into in October of 1992 when, after a brief interview, she was hired as Sundance chief programmer Geoffrey Gilmore's assistant. Lisa was asked to fill the shoes of someone who'd exited during the height of the program selection process. Sundance was not a household word-far from it. Friends and relatives knew who Robert Redford was - its illustrious founder - but film festivals were not yet on America's radar. Gilmore instructed her to just roll up her sleeves and begin watching films, make notes, and be prepared to discuss why she thought a particular film was worthy or not. At this early stage of the festival's history, there were no hard and fast rules (nor are there now) but there were fewer categories than there are now, and the watchwords were, "What moves you? What will excite a jury?"

Viola had been working at the foreign sales company Sovereign Pictures where she oversaw the story department. In that capacity, her mission was to scout material that was of a genre or had particular attachments that could be sold in foreign territories. Suddenly she was liberated from such restrictions. She had been referred by Cathy Schulman, a colleague at Sovereign, who now runs Mike Ovitz's production arm at Artists Management Group. Although, being a nonprofit, the pay was low, Lisa liked the people and had enormous respect for Gilmore who had been the curator for the UCLA Film Archives.

"It was exciting, demanding and really, really rewarding," she remembers. "Everyone did everything. There wasn't a lot of structure back then. It was bare bones."

Her first challenge was BOXING HELENA. Viola found it offensive, whereas the other programmers voted for it. Encouraged by Gilmore to speak her mind, she lobbied against it, making for a lively discussion. The film was accepted and went on to become a dubious watermark for pushing the envelope.

Sundance is about the experimental, the cutting edge. The programmers reward risk-takers. Although they are delighted when films like YOU CAN COUNT ON ME , NEXT STOP WONDERLAND or SHINE break out, are sold to the highest bidder or deliver at the box office, those objectives are not the basis on which their films are judged. And, as distributors have solemnly witnessed, for every BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, there's a SPITFIRE GRILL or HAPPY, TEXAS fiasco.

SPANKING THE MONKEY, GO FISH and CLERKS, three films in the 1994 competition, were envelope-pushers that announced the arrival of three distinct writer-directors. SPANKING THE MONKEY, an unlikely meditation on one of the greatest societal taboos, mother-son incest, launched the career of David O. Russell who signed a Miramax development deal which resulted in the Ben Stiller hit, FLIRTING WITH DISASTER. No sophomore slump in sight, Russell emerged three for three with his George Clooney-Mark Wahlberg starrer, the provocative THREE KINGS.

And that is also what Sundance is about: discovering and nurturing emerging talent. A Sundance debut does not necessarily result in a career. There have been numerous "one-hit wonders" over the years. Artists need a lot of support, good management, along with resources and opportunities to get their work shown. Two stars that emerged from Boston's Back Bay advertising scene, DeMane Davis and Khari Streeter, were chosen to bring their experimental film BLACK, WHITE AND RED ALL OVER to Sundance 1997. Davis developed her new film LIFT, accepted for the 2001 festival lineup, at the Sundance Screenwriting Lab. Her roommate at the Lab was writer-director Kimberly Peirce, whose BOYS DON'T CRY reached for and delivered an ineffable truth about gender.

Brad Anderson's THE DARIEN GAP, shot around Boston for $65,000 on 16mm, was the underdog favorite at the 1996 festival Dramatic Competition. It was selected out of 800 films, many of which had much larger budgets, to compete with only 15 others. The plot followed Lyn Vaus, co-writer, star and inspiration for the film, through his post collegiate travails of finding a place in the adult world without selling out his ideals. The Boston underground band scene of the mid-90s provides a funky Gen-X backdrop to a profound rumination about fear of commitment. Anderson intercut actual home movies from his childhood into the film, while Vaus spouts improvised riffs about his parents'divorce in voiceover. Anderson, the child of a bitter divorce, nurtured a powerful theme that spoke to Sundance audiences about a generation that grew up during the divorce epidemic of the 70's; many were having trouble making commitments in their own lives.

"When I saw THE DARIEN GAP on tape, I was so excited because it was such an unusual find," Lisa remembers. She also loved that it had a strong regional flavor." I was completely taken by it. It had a unique style, an unknown cast. Lyn Vaus was great in the lead role. It was a very smart film." Although the reviews were great, THE DARIEN GAP was a slacker film at the end of the slacker wave. In the distributors eyes, its marketability was too limited for the majors to step up to bat and bid. But they all wanted to know what Anderson would do next. In 1998, Vaus and Anderson scored big when producer/financier Mitchell Robbins sold the 1.5 million dollar production NEXT STOP WONDERLAND, which Anderson co-wrote (with Vaus), directed and edited, for 6.5 million. At Sundance 2000, Anderson garnered a premiere for his third picture, HAPPY ACCIDENTS.

Sundance, as a hot breeding ground for emerging talent, offers excellent opportunities for networking. In 1997, Lisa remembers her surprise when Aaron Eckhart, who had been a volunteer driver at the previous producer's conference where he met writer-director Neil LeBute, emerged as the star of LeBute's provocative IN THE COMPANY OF MEN. That film, she recalls, "took political correctness and turned it on its head." Audiences had extreme reactions to the misogynistic plot. There were protests and walkouts. It twisted people's sensibilities. It made them think.

In 1992, when Lisa first signed on, there were about 60 documentaries submitted, 120 features, and 200 shorts. This year, the numbers have swelled to 300 docs, 1000 features, and 3000 shorts. Over the years, Gilmore has created new categories to better embrace the bevy of material that he sorts through with his programmers. A Premiere is a special event to debut films that may have some studio affiliation. The Dramatic Competition arena is reserved for films that are 51% independently financed in the U.S., usually directed by first or second time filmmakers. The American Spectrum category was born several years ago to showcase films that may be more niche-oriented. It is not a second-tier category, in fact sometimes these films prove to be more commercial, but rather it encompasses films that are more distinctly a slice of Americana. Zack Stratis' COULD BE WORSE was slotted in this section representing Boston last year. Then there are the Native American and the World Cinema programs. The Frontier program spotlights the avant-garde and experimental. The Shorts program is where agents swarm looking for new talent. With the burgeoning of the internet and companies like atomFilms, shorts have been appropriated for commercial exhibition.

Finally, there is the Documentary Competition. Documentarians are often treated like second class citizens at festivals. None of the top drawer distributors will look at them as they are almost never box office successes. Even the world-renowned Errol Morris, a Cambridge native whose Allston-based producers Scout Productions and distributor Lion's Gate Films premiered his latest Mr. Death at Sundance 2000, found that it sagged in the marketplace. But Sundance is only concerned with the creative elements. Nicole Guillemet, the Sundance co-director, who is based in Salt Lake City but globetrots to foreign festivals for the curating of World Cinema, has made a special conviction to boost opportunities for documentarians.

In the 1999 Documentary Competition, DEATH: A LOVE STORY was a stunning work of cinema verite. Written, directed and produced by Michelle Le Brun, the film chronicled her May-December love affair with husband Mel Howard, cut short by his untimely death. Not knowing that she was making a film until well into the process, she found herself videotaping him at every opportunity which resulted in an inspiring and unnerving journey of one man's final months battling hepatitis, ultimately succumbing after a liver transplant. Howard was an icon, one of the first renegades of independent film. He was as much respected in Hollywood as he was in New York as well as Boston where he was chair of the Boston University Film Department. But finding a distributor is another skill set not necessarily familiar to filmmakers. LeBrun was showered with accolades but has not secured theatrical distribution. The film was exhibited in Boston under the auspices of Bo Smith, curator of the Museum of Fine Arts theater.

Leading the charge to promote documentaries, Redford announced a special addition to Sundance 2000: a hip little tent/makeshift coffee house called "House of Docs" where press could mingle informally with easy access to the documentary filmmakers. It provided a welcome respite from the florescent glare and monotony of the press room at the Silver King Hotel. The result was a larger volume of articles published around the world about documentaries.

In 1998, Lisa Viola, having spent six years in the Sundance Santa Monica offices, decided to move back to her native Brookline with her husband, a teacher at Newton South High School. Gilmore selected Lisa to be more or less the gatekeeper for documentary films. As such, she is the first pair of eyes to select candidates. It is appropriate that she should specialize in this section, given that so many gifted documentarians have lived here for decades. Recent local Sundance documentaries include Ross McElwee's 6 O'CLOCK NEWS, TROUBLESOME CREEK: A MIDWESTERN TALE by Jeanie Jordan and Steve Ascher along with a plethora of docs over the years from PBS, WGBH in particular. Al Pacino's documentary examination of New York acting community scrutinizing Richard III entitled LOOKING FOR RICHARD was shown in rough cut as a fundraiser for the ART theater in Harvard Square.

Pacino's long-time colleague, David Wheeler who directed a short film with Pacino in the seventies. Wheeler's son Lewis, a Boston native, was one of the editors on the film.

For Sundance 2001, Lisa weighed in for Buster Cram's documentary of the 1971 Vietnam protest movement AN UNFINISHED SYMPHONY. Set to the music of the Symphony of Sorrowful Songs, the film is beautifully shot, weaving together numerous anti-war testimonials, including Howard Zinn's comments on democracy in America. The film has special power, she says, because of its retrospective approach, looking back thirty years later.

Expecting a baby in February, Viola will not attend Sundance for the first time in almost a decade. She will miss most not meeting the filmmakers in person. But she has set down roots and created a life here that makes her happy. Although she enjoyed her stint at Sovereign, she admits that "development is a laborious and lengthy process." Production doesn't lure her either. So she's supplemented Sundance with two other consulting jobs. When she moved back to Boston, Lisa connected with Connie White, whose husband had composed music for the 1997 Sundance film, BANDWAGON. Connie and Marianne Lampke created the Boston Women's International Film Festival and could use Lisa's advice and scouting skills to select the 20-25 films for their program. Provincetown Film Festival came knocking two years ago.

Lisa was tapped as a consultant in an advisory role. The program is somewhat of a free for all, with a slant toward gay and lesbian themes. But P.J. Layng, the director, is open to include anything that will excite or provoke an audience. The Provincetown community waited in anticipation for their opportunity for a film festival that they are now eager, hungry and extremely supportive of the effort.

The sum of all the parts adds up to an enviable schedule for Ms. Viola. September-January for Sundance; February-April for the Boston International Women's Festival; April-June for the Provincetown Film Festival; leaving July and August off to coincide with her husband's schedule. Don't be too envious, she says, as festival programming doesn't bring home a big paycheck. But perhaps that's the message coming out of Sundance, too. The great majority of filmmakers sacrifice to do what they do: Some things are more important than money.