There’s nothing quite like Sundance

True Story: A year ago this week, when my wife and I arrived in Salt Lake City to attend the Sundance Film Festival, we boarded the shuttle to Park City with three other people.

Nothing strange about that, of course. The ski town of Park City is the main site of Robert Redford’s annual festival, which has become probably the world’s most prestigious celebration of independent film. And unless you rent a car, which is a bad idea because parking spaces in Park City are more valuable than a three-picture deal, the best way to get up the mountain is by shuttle.

So, we’re sitting with these three other people during the half-hour ride and, naturally enough, we begin talking. We tell each other who we are, what we do, why we’re going to Park City, what we hope to see.

This, I have to say, is one of best things about Sundance: Of all the film festivals I’ve attended, from Los Angeles to New York, Sundance provides the most interesting chance meetings. The people standing in line are not just film fans. In fact, some aren’t film fans at all. They are usually film professionals of some sort – actors, editors, screenwriters, agents, film buyers or filmmaker wannabes. And many have some story to tell that’s worth hearing.

Anyway, we start talking to this one couple – both 40ish, both wearing the Sundance obligatory uniform (boots, jeans, sweater, parka) and both open about why they were there: They had a film entered in the documentary competition. They had worked hard, they had little money to show for it, and they were both very, very tired.

What’s your film’s name? we asked. “Daughter From Danang,” they said. We’ll watch for it, we promised.

And sure enough, when the film played, we did see it. And it was terrific.

It was so good that, after the festival was over and the festival awards were announced, we weren’t surprised to hear that “Daughter From Danang” had won the Grand Jury Prize for Documentary. Our hope was that the filmmakers, Gail Dolgin and Vincente Franco, were finally going to be able to get some rest.

What’s amazing is that 20,000 people attend Sundance each year. They pack the sidewalks of Main Street, they fill the restaurants, they stand in long lines in front of the theaters and they fill most seats when each of the 130-odd movies begin. So the chances of sharing time with a couple of eventual award-winners would seem remote.

But it’s more likely than at Vancouver or Seattle, the Pacific Northwest’s two biggest film festivals, much less Toronto or Berlin, two of the world’s biggest.

When I head in on the shuttle this time, I’ll definitely be wondering who my fellow passengers are. It’s always nice to be in the know.

This will make the sixth straight year that I’ve been to Sundance. I first went in 1998 to cover the premiere of “Smoke Signals,” Chris Eyre’s adaptation of Sherman Alexie’s screenplay. Every year I’ve returned, and every year I’ve seen some superior independent narrative and documentary films, not to mention shorts.

Among the best: “Southern Comfort,” “In the Bedroom,” “The Tao of Steve,” “Girlfight,” “You Can Count on Me,” “Three Seasons,” “Series 7”and “Slam.”

Of course, I’ve seen some stinkers, too. One pretentious waste of cinema was a film professor’s vanity project that featured two non-actors lounging around, mostly in the nude. The only saving grace was the film’s Italian locations.

But while going to the movies is the main reason for being at the festival, it’s not the only reason. You can see stars, up close and personal, such as Guy Pearce, Jennifer Tilley, Benicio del Toro, Leelee Sobieski, Stephen Rea, Gina Gershon, Jon Favreau, Famke Janssen, Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt, Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman. You see filmmakers, such as John Waters, Errol Morris, Todd Solondz, Tom Tykwer, Joel and Ethan Coen, and Robert Altman.

You see other celebrities, too, such as Roger Ebert – who actually likes to take snapshots of filmmakers and stars with his own little camera.

You meet interesting characters – such as the guy who insists that he never buys a ticket yet never has trouble getting into a film that he really wants to see. Or the guy I saw who once threatened to do something physically improbable to someone on the other end of his cell phone. Or Jeff Gilmore, the festival’s co-director, who, no matter how low the temperature drops, has worn the same black leather jacket to every event at which I’ve seen him.

Yeah, attending Sundance is well worth the five 16-hour days that I give it every January. Beginning Thursday, I’m returning, and I’ll do what I can to share my experience with you. I’ll post daily online updates of what films I’ve seen, what celebrities I’ve spotted, what press conferences I’ve attended, what characters I run into.

My intent will be to take you into the heart of Sundance and show what the experience is like for the average festival-goer. I invite any of you to ask me questions, and I particularly invite any other Inland Northwest resident who is planning on going to contribute.

You’ll have to excuse me now. I have laundry to do.

My X-Men pajamas need washing.