Kicking this off is a privilege and it also comes with mixed emotions because this is a story of beginnings and endings. So thank you for being here. Some of you have been here for decades. I see you Sean Means, wherever you are! And some of you are new. So thank you for joining us. 

As you know, this year’s theme is Everyone Has a Story, which were words directly out of my dad’s mouth on more than one occasion. He’s not the only one that said it, but he is one of the few that did something about it. He knew, also, that every place has a story. So let’s talk about this extraordinary place: Park City, Utah.

I invite you to look out and up when you can. These mountains have a funny way of adding perspective. Utah is the bedrock that allowed us to build. The Sundance Mountain Resort was the nucleus. Park City is the portal for so many stories to be set free into the world. So many in Park City opened their homes and their hearts from the beginning, lending their town and their time to this crazy idea. So maybe when you eat your meals, walk the streets — get a parking ticket like I did this afternoon — pay attention to the people that are serving you. There might just be a lot about Utah that you don’t know.

My dad loved this place. And its people. So we invite you to stay curious about this community. It too has stories. Thanks to all the government officials who are tasked every year with hosting us without mutiny. Critical work not often seen or celebrated, they keep us safe and relatively legal.

This Festival has found a new iteration, which will be exciting and it will be imperfect and it might just feel like our beginnings over 40 years ago. We will ground our next chapter in the founding values Dad articulated on a single sheet of paper. If you haven’t read them, they are simple and they are strong and they guide our decisions to this day. And I have a copy if you want one.

Looking at our beginnings is why we are screening some seminal legacy films, including the restored print of Downhill Racer. Dad’s stories of getting that movie made were a source of inspiration for creating the Sundance Institute. The innovative energy of answering the call will be brought forward and existing, no doubt, for years to come. Now with David Linde in the helm, so grateful for him joining the team. And I keep telling him no backsies! 

Yet much of the creative nucleus will remain here in Utah to keep growing. And as artists need change, so does our organization. Our signature lab programs are always at the forefront, without which, many of the films that you will see this year would never have happened. Many of the artists are still stuck behind a much too narrow barrier for entry. So if you don’t know about our labs, it’s a sneak peek at the artists you might see here at Eccles Stage and then maybe on the Oscars stage in the future.

Insider’s tip: We just had our Screenwriters Lab. Many of them might just be in line next to you at Atticus Bookshop, so if you want the scoop, look who’s been toiling away this week. Check out to who the next ceiling buster is from the Native and Indigenous Lab. Of course, Michelle Satter and all of the incredible staff keep the true north of our artist programs. I also want to thank the passionate and opinionated and dedicated Board of Directors, lending their resources and their wisdom without reservation, each of them a critical part of our DNA.

The next thing that I want to acknowledge is the volunteers who stand in the cold directing and redirecting. Without whom, none of this would be possible. And I ask you to find out who they are. They are an extraordinary bunch of people and I myself am headed to Transylvania because of a chat that I had with one of them! 

While we’re on the extraordinary, I want to acknowledge the staff of the Sundance Institute. They are the behind the scenes magicians, each bringing their lived experience, knowledge and resilience to the table every single day. Some have been here for decades, some new to the scene — all dedicated, all passionate, all keeping the vision my dad had 40 years ago alive to this day. And not the least of which is Eugene Hernandez, Kim Yutani, John Nein, and so many others in every moment overcoming obstacles to bring you what you’ll see this week.

Now to the storytellers. The filmmakers, the artists who come here at great sacrifice. That shivering filmmaker we would have never heard of — currently staying in a room with 12 of her crew members including volunteered family — might just be the next one to change the world. It might be their Midnight film, their international documentary, their short. It’s a shot of hope to seek out the unknowns and find out who they are. It was really my dad’s favorite part.

And then there are the blessed veterans who don’t have to show up here every year, but they do anyway. They stand shoulder to shoulder with the next crop nipping at their heels with open hearts and a beacon.We’re so grateful for their presence and lending their platform for others to stand on like Chloe Zhao, Ryan Coogler, Taika Waititi, Ava Duvernay, Richard Linklater, Rory Kennedy, and so many others.

So the tributes, the remembrances and love that have come the way of me and my family has been comfort in a time of great emptiness. We are overwhelmed at the outpouring. I know there is loss, but there is also opportunity to remember what he did and why. And carry it with us into our choices. My dad read The New York Times every day of his life, but as many of you here might know, he didn’t love press conferences. He did, however, know the power of it.

It’s not an easy time to be a journalist. So I want to thank you. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for bringing your words and your megaphone.

I think it’s going to be an extraordinary year, so thank you for coming with your kindness, your curiosity, and your hard-fought toolbox. And let’s make it a great Festival of celebration and remembrance. And hope for all that is possible.

Thank you.