The post Film Festival Jury Favoritism and Prior Connections first appeared on Film Industry Watch.

Sundance has never been about championing quality films. It’s essentially insider trading of filmmaking. The [friends of the] same people that run Sundance have investments in the films that win.”

An insider explains:

Search ‘Sundance labs emergency funding the Witch’ and it should come up. Basically Sundance labs is their “for profit non profit side” of things. So you have a little bit of funding and you need more so you got Sundance and they will invest in your film and connect you with investors they know. Then they turn around and let your film win Sundance as marketing for it. And they claim to be non profit but they are all double dipping on the for profit side of things

As mentioned above, as an illustrative example shared by the source, is Robert Eggers’ The Witch. While the film went on to garner critical acclaim, the narrative behind its “win” at Sundance paints a questionable picture:

It received emergency funding from Sundance’s close friends. Then it goes to somehow win the non-profit Sundance competition. This is all public knowledge.”

It appears that the allegations stem from the fact that the CEO at the time of Cinereach, a nonprofit production company involved in financing The Witch (now former CEO), also served as a Trustee of the Sundance Institute. Notably, the film was released in 2015, the same year the CEO joined the festival’s board of Trustees. As a nonprofit organization, Cinereach relies on philanthropic funding and pays salaries to its employees. However, when a nonprofit production company is closely linked to a film festival, particularly with its CEO serving as a Trustee, and the festival awards recognition to films produced or financed by that company, it raises legitimate concerns about a potential conflict of interest. The film received a grant from the Sundance Institute, was subsequently programmed, and later awarded at the festival. While such practices may be considered “business as usual” in the film industry, it is largely because such dealings have been normalized over time. Many tens of thousands of filmmakers are trying to receive recognition in film festivals, not having their producers on the board of Trustees of the same festivals.

Why This May Be Seen as a Conflict of Interest

A conflict of interest arises when an individual in a position of authority or influence (in this case, a Trustee at a film festival) has personal or professional ties to certain projects that the festival supports or awards. For critics, the concern is that the decision-making process—whether it involves choosing which films receive grants, which are programmed, or which earn festival awards—could be swayed by relationships and vested interests rather than by purely artistic or meritocratic considerations.

1. Power and Influence: Trustees of a major festival like Sundance often have substantial clout in deciding or influencing programming, funding priorities, and award selections. If the same Trustee also helms or financially benefits from a production entity financing a competing film, questions arise about whether it truly receives impartial evaluation.
   
   
2. Nonprofit Status: Both the festival (through the Sundance Institute) and Cinereach operate under nonprofit models. Nonprofits are generally expected to adhere to higher standards of transparency and ethical responsibility, precisely because they benefit from philanthropic and public trust. The appearance of any intermingled financial or career interests can erode that trust.
   
   
3. Limited Opportunities: Many filmmakers vie for the chance to premiere and compete at prestigious festivals like Sundance. When a film associated with a powerful insider is seemingly “fast-tracked” or favored, even by appearance, it can discourage or overshadow deserving independent films that lack comparable connections.
   
   
4. Normalization of Industry Practices: The film industry has long tolerated a degree of nepotism and insider dealings, often shrugged off as “just how things work.” However, such practices can leave the door open to real or perceived conflicts of interest, which, if unaddressed, may further entrench a system that primarily benefits those with direct ties to industry power brokers.

The Quality Conundrum: 500 Shorts, Only 5 Worth Remembering?

Our source, who has attended nearly a decade’s worth of Sundance screenings, especially shorts, paints a grim picture of the festival’s creative standards:

Out of the probably 500 I have seen at Sundance now, I would say only 5 are memorable or quality. Your average Vimeo staff pick is lightyears better than your average Sundance short.”

This anecdote aligns with previous criticisms that Sundance has shifted focus away from curating truly stellar works, favoring projects that satisfy strategic, political, or financial interests. By maintaining a large pool of subpar or formulaic films—“checking off certain criteria” for feel-good representation or activist branding—the festival can ensure that the heavily promoted favorites (in which Sundance insiders may have a stake) stand out by comparison.

A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy of Mediocrity

According to these allegations, Sundance’s programming strategy is less a quality-driven selection process and more a carefully managed spectacle designed to bolster the success of films in which the festival’s insiders are already invested. This environment, critics say, not only robs deserving talent of their moment in the spotlight, but also erodes the public’s trust in what should be a champion of cinematic innovation.

My conspiracy theory is they intentionally get ‘bad’ films that check off certain criteria… to make sure the films they have investments in win.”

A Call for Greater Accountability

Our stance at Film Industry Watch has been and remains clear: festivals must be bastions of authenticity and meritocracy, offering a fair platform for emerging artists. The allegations of an “entertainment-based pyramid scam” strike at the heart of what film festivals are meant to represent, a celebration of creativity unfettered by cronyism and corporate machinations.

We sincerely thank our readers for consistently sharing valuable information with us. We will update the article as we verify the information further and gather additional details.

Sources:

https://www.sundance.org/blogs/news/sundance-institute-adds-five-new-trustees-2015/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4263482/companycredits

Legal Disclaimer:

The allegations referenced in this article are based on publicly available information, individual testimonies, and third-party sources. Nothing contained herein should be construed as definitive proof of wrongdoing, nor as legal, financial, or other professional advice. All opinions expressed are those of the respective sources and do not necessarily reflect the views of this publication. We make no representations or warranties regarding the accuracy, completeness, or reliability of the information provided, other than the information contained in the sources. Readers are encouraged to conduct their own research and consult appropriate professionals for advice specific to their circumstances. The publication disclaims all liability for any loss or damage arising from reliance on the information contained in this article.

The post Is Sundance Selling Out? Allegations of Insider Deals and Cronyism first appeared on Film Industry Watch.

In an era when diversity initiatives are hailed as a saving grace for the entertainment industry, independent filmmaker Cinema Timshel contends he has been pushed to the margins. Timshel, a documentarian based in Minneapolis, believes an emerging ideology he calls “identitarian social justice” is erecting new barriers, even as it aims to eliminate old ones. His story, particularly the years-long struggle to gain festival traction for his documentary No One Left to Offend: The Rise and Fall of the Church of Euthanasia, underscores the complexity of identity-based policies and the disputes they spark.

Below is a closer look at the trials Timshel encountered while trying to screen his film, along with his broader claim that such difficulties are no coincidence. In his view, he is a casualty of policies and cultural attitudes that use racial and gender criteria to decide who gets a seat at the table, an issue we’ve touched upon both a year ago, and recently.

Being a Straight White Able-Bodied Male as a Major Disadvantage

Timshel is the first to acknowledge that the very idea of a white man being discriminated against in Hollywood raises eyebrows. Legendary directors – Spielberg, Scorsese, Nolan, and the Coen Brothers, to name a few – are still household names. And with that lineup dominating screens, skeptics wonder how Timshel can argue white men face any systemic roadblocks at all.

His answer is straightforward: “Everybody has to start somewhere.” While powerhouse talents can ride industry clout or brand-name success, Timshel says emerging white male filmmakers get a drastically different reception in an indie market he calls “rigged.” A wide range of arts nonprofits, film festival boards, and public grants, in his view, have codified “diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI) mandates in ways that exclude or sideline creators like him.

Their sin? Being born male, white and able bodied.

Despite finishing a previous documentary in 2014 and laboring for years on his latest project, Timshel says he has been rejected by every major film lab, grant, and festival to which he has applied in the past decade. While rejections are hardly rare in the competitive festival world, he insists the deck is stacked against him. He describes combing through festival lineups and funding announcements, only to find a conspicuous lack of white male directors compared to the portion who actually submit work.

Timshel points to one curious exchange that occurred while submitting No One Left to Offend to Sundance in 2022. To his surprise a longtime programmer reached out midway through deliberations, praising his film as “fascinating” and “wild,” and wondering if it should be entered as an episodic series rather than a traditional feature. Yet after that brief flurry of enthusiasm, No One Left to Offend was rejected – along with Timshel’s subsequent attempts to follow up.

He doesn’t claim outright proof of conspiracy; festivals have myriad reasons for turning down films. Yet Timshel describes the subsequent silence from that Sundance programmer, and thirty additional rejections from other festivals, as emblematic of an unspoken policy: programmers might like or even admire a project but fear wading into controversy that risks offending the ethos of identitarian social justice.

On paper, Timshel’s documentary covers raw, even outrageous, ground, enough to make any mainstream gatekeeper hesitate. No One Left to Offend chronicles the 1990s exploits of the Church of Euthanasia, a crew of performance artists and MIT engineers led by the cross-dressing provocateur Chris Korda. The group championed abortion rights and environmental awareness by staging intentionally inflammatory spectacles: carrying signs like “Eat a Queer Fetus for Jesus,” lampooning corporate greenwashing at Earth Day events, and even setting up a giant puppet that mimicked male ejaculation—just to mock a sperm bank.

Their slogans included “Save the Planet, Kill Yourself,” reflecting the group’s bizarre brand of performance-art activism. They provoked anti-abortion activists, confronted conservative Catholics, and boasted about sowing media confusion as a form of cultural sabotage. Timshel’s film, which runs more than two and a half hours, captures this spectacle in warts-and-all detail, offering neither condemnation nor apology.

Korda’s views add another layer of tension in a cultural environment sensitive to trans portrayal. Timshel’s footage shows Korda questioning medical transitions, calling them expensive and confining. Yet Korda also identifies as transgender and cross-dresses. This complicated stance—more personal rebellion than typical trans narrative—might not fit neatly into the identity-first frameworks common in certain film circles.And then there’s Nina Paley, an animator who appeared alongside the Church of Euthanasia on The Jerry Springer Show. Paley has been labeled a “TERF” (trans-exclusionary radical feminist) by her critics, spurring canceled screenings of her work and a permanent tarnish in many festival environments. Timshel keeps her in the final cut, though he wonders if her presence in the film has made it institutionally radioactive.

The Larger Landscape of Identitarian Social Justice

Early in his career, Timshel was involved in left-wing activism, including the Occupy Wall Street movement. At first, he relished what he saw as a populist wave concerned with class struggle and corporate power. But he recalls that over time, many activist circles devolved into bitter “oppression olympics,” where allegations of racism or sexism would lead to swift excommunications. According to Timshel, once that culture took hold, new rules on speech and identity grew so rigid that deeper issues of class, poverty, or free expression were drowned out.

He now sees that pattern replicated in institutional film. The new era, Timshel says, is dominated by the language of DEI—“diversity, equity, and inclusion”—but often operates like a pseudo-religion, zealously policing dissent. Organizations from The Ford Foundation to local nonprofits regularly tout achievements such as supporting “QTIBIPOC” creators (an umbrella acronym for Queer, Trans, Indigenous, Black, and People of Color). Timshel argues these well-meaning programs effectively erect a fresh set of identity-based quotas.

Timshel points to sensational stories like the uproar over Meg Smaker’s Jihad Rehab—a film labeled Islamophobic and hammered by critics who had never seen it. Though Jihad Rehab eventually premiered at Sundance, subsequent festivals withdrew. Smaker’s ordeal, Timshel believes, underscores the underlying fear: if your film is even rumored to “punch down” at a marginalized identity, it becomes a liability.

By contrast, Timshel says his own predicament has been more hushed but no less devastating. His sense is that festival programmers who appreciate his work still won’t risk an outcry. No One Left to Offend, featuring a trans protagonist with unorthodox opinions on gender, simply isn’t “the representation that trans people need right now,” as Timshel imagines the hypothetical critique.

Is it DEI or Discrimination?

In Timshel’s telling, the dilemma revolves around who determines “merit.” He concedes that Hollywood’s past shut out too many marginalized filmmakers and can be slow to respond. But he sees current practices as overcorrection—or worse, fresh prejudice disguised as progress.

He cites numbers from Sundance: in recent years, the percentage of female directors programmed in certain categories has often outstripped the percentage of female submissions. He also references press releases from arts nonprofits that highlight successful fellows by race, gender, and sexual orientation but rarely mention how many white men even made it past first-round eliminations.

Timshel wonders whether listing his own fractional Indigenous ancestry or calling himself “nonbinary” would have opened doors. Or if he’d relinquished directing credit and showcased a female co-creator, might the film have passed muster? Such hypothetical scenarios trouble him, suggesting a system that rewards the correct “checkboxes” above artistic excellence or curiosity.

A Storm in the Industry

Timshel’s frustrations highlight a broader reality for filmmakers of every background: the traditional pipelines for independent film—festivals, distributors, philanthropic grants—are narrowing. The streaming revolution has turned once-lucrative distribution deals into pennies per view. Younger audiences now favor social media over cinematic experiences. Meanwhile, philanthropic capital is guided by mission statements that Timshel says increasingly bow to the strictest version of social-justice orthodoxy.

That confluence, in his view, is choking out experimental or boundary-pushing work, especially if made by individuals who don’t align with the day’s favored identities or messaging. And while Timshel acknowledges that creators who aren’t white and male historically faced these headwinds, he sees the current approach as compounding the industry’s distress. In Timshel’s view, the cinematic establishment is letting old inequalities define decision making while punishing a new generation for crimes they never committed and benefits they never received.

Timshel foresees a bleak outcome: a splintered film culture where permissible “wokeness” is the ticket to mainstream festival approval. The danger, he warns, is that it may spark an equal and opposite backlash. He points towards the way white nationalism can thrive on feelings of betrayal, noting that marginal extremist groups can weaponize the resentments that DEI policies produce. Even more pressing to him is the death of robust artistic freedom—particularly in indie documentary, a genre that should probe complicated truths and uncomfortable stories.

Victimized by the “Flipped Script”

Critics of Timshel might ask if he’s just bitter about rejections or is blaming identity politics for a film that simply didn’t fit festival needs. But his record—and the personal praise from at least one top-tier programmer—suggests he might well be a casualty of an unwritten rule: “Don’t run material that could trigger controversy from the social justice left.”

He frames himself as a victim of an ideology that not only discriminates by race and gender but stifles common sense. Questions like “Should a documentary about a complicated trans figure get banned because it’s not the ‘right’ kind of trans story?” seem far from progressive in Timshel’s eyes—yet they reflect the closed-door climate he describes.

He is adamant that female and minority filmmakers deserve equitable access and expanded opportunity, but he believes that must not entail reverse discrimination. Referencing Martin Luther King Jr. and David Graeber, Timshel urges the film world to abandon gender and race based blame for past sins and focus on universal fairness and expanded opportunity for all. “It shouldn’t be about pushing anyone out,” he says, “the point is about making space for everyone without punishing entire categories of artists.”

Refusing to rely on festivals, Timshel plans to release his documentary online, possibly in segments behind a modest paywall. Although the marketing power of a big festival slot can’t be replicated through DIY distribution, he hopes that word of mouth will help him reach viewers who want something far from ordinary.

The Church of Euthanasia story, with all its ragged boundaries, might well intrigue fans of provocative documentaries. The film explores freedom of expression, the limits of transgression, and the line between activism and trolling. Some may condemn the group’s stunts, others may relish the countercultural punch. Still other may find themselves reflecting upon where the group went too far. Timshel is willing to let the audience decide—something he says is a hallmark of honest filmmaking.

In the midst of these battles, Timshel admits he isn’t holding his breath for any sweeping policy changes among large foundations. He does, however, hold out hope that enough creators, programmers, and viewers will tire of a system that appears to manage optics and kill art. He envisions a renewed spirit of class-based solidarity among all independent artists. Rather than fracturing into identity camps or appeasing corporate sponsors with safe messaging, Timshel calls for widespread open conversation—free from intimidation or fear of the label “bigot.”

He’s still reaching out to distribution contacts, curious whether there is a sympathetic champion waiting in the wings. For now, Timshel channels what he sees as a kind of semi-exile into future scripts and personal essays, convinced that in time, someone will see the irony of using so-called “inclusive” programs to turn him into an outsider.

Cinema Timshel may never pass the typical litmus tests that arts nonprofits favor in this era of identity-based gatekeeping. And his experience shows that simply being creative, persistent, and open to other viewpoints isn’t always enough. In telling his story, Timshel forces us to ask whether the industry’s newfound guardrails, though well intentioned, inadvertently cast out the very voices that once made independent film so freewheeling and vital.

He has yet to abandon faith in the transformative power of movies or in public curiosity for unusual stories. Rather, he issues a caution: true inclusivity can only flourish when institutions stop using reductive demographic categories to decide what merits an audience. What began as an effort to correct historical inequities, Timshel argues, has mutated into a lopsided system that punishes him for an identity he never chose.

Against the odds – and whether or not No One Left to Offend finds a conventional festival run – Timshel remains committed to forging his own path. If nothing else, his predicament raises a provocative question: in the name of progress, are we closing the door on sincere, if controversial, art?

For now, Timshel stands by his film, waiting for that moment when audiences are again ready to greet the messy, provocative side of documentary art with the curiosity it deserves. Until then, he remains one of many independent creators struggling to be heard, a casualty of a flipped script that, in the name of expanding representation, seems to have left common sense and true equality behind.

Disney executive admits anti-white hiring policy in secret footage

In a related incident, secret footage has surfaced showing a Disney executive admitting to discriminatory hiring practices under the guise of DEI policies. Michael Giordano, senior vice president of The Walt Disney Company, alleged that white males are often overlooked for positions within the company. Speaking candidly in the footage, Giordano stated, “Nobody else is going to tell you this but they’re not considering any white males for the job.”

Giordano also claimed that Disney employs strategic language to sidestep potential legal issues. In one instance, he alleged that a mixed-race candidate was rejected because he was “not visibly black enough” to meet the company’s desired image. “They want a certain percentage of the diversity here, a certain percentage there,” he explained, further questioning his own future prospects at Disney.

The footage, widely circulated on social media, has reignited debates about the fairness and legality of DEI policies in corporate hiring practices.

As we’ve warned almost a year ago, the backlash for making identity politics the “new left’s” core ideology, has now left us with an authoritarian President. Even before taking power, Trump is talking about annexing Canada, the Panama Canal and Greenland. As it turns out, alienating half of the population with progressive orthodoxy along with its censoriousness, thought-policing, and gaslighting has now been met with a devastating result. Who would have thought?

Timshel’s original post can be accessed here:

https://cinematimshel.substack.com/p/ideologically-out-of-line-and-insufficiently

Other resources:

For further thoughts we strongly recommend Sam’s Harris recent talk from his podcast Making Sense – The Reckoning (Episode #391):

The post When Liberals are Caught in the DEI Crossfire: On Identitarian Social Justice, Sundance & Donald Trump first appeared on Film Industry Watch.

Was looking at the Sundance narrative shorts line up for 2024. Out of the 34 films. 14-15 of the directors are prior Sundance or BIG 5 alumni. Some of the rest include Emmy winning writers making their directorial debut, established music video directors with Black Eyed Peas, Beyonce etc. credits making their foray into or coming back to narrative filmmaking after a break. And even a film by Barack Obama’s daughter (whose bio page is left empty) and another by Jodie Foster’s wife.”

In a recent video by Film Threat, linked below, respected critic Chris Gore delivers a harsh but necessary verdict on the current state of the Sundance Film Festival, one that Film Industry Watch supports and has previously reported on.

Gore’s analysis lays bare the unsettling reality: a once-vibrant showcase for exceptional independent cinema has devolved into a festival more concerned with identity based criteria than artistic excellence:

“The roster of films are less about the quality of the films and more about checking the box of identity – ‘this is a great movie because it was shot by a female filmmaker who’s queer, who’s in a wheelchair'”

Sundance’s programing now seems guided less by merit and more by a desire to “check the boxes” of certain demographic categories. While representation in film is important, giving priority to filmmakers purely for their identity, rather than their talent, undercuts the very definition of an “independent” festival. By Gore’s account, and our own reporting, one can no longer trust Sundance’s selections to highlight groundbreaking storytelling or innovative filmmaking. Instead, filmmakers’ backgrounds too often serve as substitutes for narrative strength, craftsmanship, or genuine creative risk-taking.

“If you’re a woman of color queer filmmaker, you are beating the generic white guy straight filmmaker every day of the week. You don’t even have to make a good film – you’ll get considered”

Gore also exposes another uncomfortable truth: the festival’s calendar position – kicking off just after the awards season hubbub – makes Sundance less relevant than ever. Major studios no longer need the festival for prestige. They now leverage Sundance simply for short-term buzz before dumping their films onto streaming platforms, effectively pushing aside smaller independent projects that can’t compete with corporate marketing machines. This commercial infiltration further erodes Sundance’s credibility, leaving it as a convenient publicity stopover rather than a genuine champion of new cinematic voices.

At Film Industry Watch, we’ve repeatedly warned that these industry shifts have not only weakened Sundance’s influence but also the very ecosystem it once supported. Publicists struggle to drum up interest for true indie films, and journalists, ourselves included, can confirm that investment in Sundance coverage rarely yields returns. As Gore astutely points out, the democratization of distribution means filmmakers no longer rely on the festival to find a home for their work. Without this gatekeeping role, Sundance’s claim to importance is dubious at best.

“The choices of films feel more activist-driven than… from a true filmmaking standpoint.”

Looking ahead, Sundance’s impending move from its longtime home in Park City only amplifies these concerns. The festival’s charm, once intimately tied to its unique setting, risks evaporating as it relocates. Instead of clinging to its original spirit of discovery and authenticity, Sundance appears poised to become yet another high-profile industry event, bland, corporate, and detached from its founding mission.

Chris Gore’s assessment aligns with the evidence we’ve gathered at Film Industry Watch. Sundance has abandoned its core purpose, prioritizing superficial identity politics and hype over quality and integrity. Gore is right – and until the festival’s organizers face these criticisms head-on, Sundance will continue its steady decline, ultimately betraying the very artists and audiences it was created to serve.

Further reading:

The post SUNDANCE IS DEAD: A Downward Spiral of Failing Standards first appeared on Film Industry Watch.

This allegation emerged when a producer, upon checking her film’s statistics on Vimeo, discovered no views had been registered. Seeking clarification, she reached out to the festival. Adam Montgomery, a senior manager and programmer at Sundance, responded—seemingly with a generic reply—asserting that Vimeo’s statistics are not always reliable and claiming the film had been viewed.

Contradictorily, hours after this email exchange, the film’s Vimeo statistics finally showed a view from the Los Angeles area, where many of the festival’s employees are based. Notably, only 54% of the film was watched. This post-inquiry viewing casts doubt on Montgomery’s assurances and suggests that the festival may not be thoroughly screening all submissions.

Simultaneously, another festival programmer, Ana Souza, wrote to the producer that the program for the 2024 festival had already been finalized, indicating that this decision was made without viewing the producer’s film.

This revelation, along with the earlier incident, substantiates the widely held belief about how film selections are conducted in major festivals. It suggests that rather than reviewing all submissions, a select few films, perhaps between 100 and 300, are handpicked for consideration by the festival team. These selections are influenced by recommendations from well-connected individuals and driven by financial interests, favoritism, nepotism, and other agendas. You can read more about these issues, here.

Finally, the producer had asked the submission fee to be refunded, but she was ignored.

This practice is an example for a broader and well known issue in regarding to the nature of power in decision-making systems: in such environments, the value of a decision-making position is amplified when the individual can exploit their power for personal gain, which is translated into social currency. In the context of film festivals, if films were chosen solely on merit, programmers would lose the ability to convert their decision-making capacity into power, and from there, financial and social gain. This social currency is crucial for gaining influence and power. By selectively favoring certain films, programmers can demonstrate to others that they hold the power to grant favors, thereby creating a self-sustaining system influence. This dynamic not only undermines the integrity of the film selection process but also discourages merit-based recognition, leading to a homogenized and less innovative film landscape.

UPDATE:

In a not so incredible turn of events, since this article was originally published, and with the announcement of the 2024 program, it was revealed that Malia Obama, daughter of Barak Obama, made her debut in the festival. The news articles announcing of Malia’s selection made a special point of the fact that she had submitted the film “under the name Malia Ann (Ann is her middle name)”, hinting that this was done to avoid the appearance of nepotism. This is of course preposterous, and only points to the fact that the members of the film industry “syndicate” (those with contacts) are aware of the criticism pointed towards them, as well as the unethical structure of the industry, and use thinly veiled attempts to maintain ‘plausible deniability’. Rest assure that the Sundance film festival selection committee, which only watches a fraction of the films submitted to it, knew exactly who the film was by, and received numerous calls and emails informing them of its submission.

It is worth mentioning that accusations of fraud have been made against the Sundance Film Festival since at least 2011, below is an article titled “Lawsuit alleges Sundance getting too large, committing fraud” which has been published in January 2012:

The article can be accessed here:

https://web.archive.org/web/20120701020231/https://davisclipper.com/view/full_story/17265673/article-Lawsuit-alleges-Sundance-getting-too-large–committing-fraud

Continue to – Power, influence & control over the European industry.

We are actively seeking more stories and instances of such practices within the film industry. If you have information or experiences related to these issues, we encourage you to contact us. Your insights can help shed light on these practices and contribute to fostering a more equitable and diverse film industry.

Feedback and Corrections
If you believe your or company’s name was listed on this website unjustly, please CONTACT US.

SOURCES:

https://help.vimeo.com/hc/en-us/articles/12426206706705-Video-Settings-analytics-panel

The post Sundance Charges $ but Not Watching All Submissions (unless you’re Obama’s daughter) first appeared on Film Industry Watch.