Lifestyle

The River Runs Free

Published

1 year ago

September 16, 2024

For the first time in more than a century, the Klamath River began flowing unobstructed on Aug. 28 from the river’s mouth to Keno Dam, just below Upper Klamath Lake, opening hundreds of miles of salmon habitat and bringing a generational effort to the brink of completion.

The moment an excavator broke open the last coffer dam holding the river back at what used to be Iron Gate Dam, letting the Klamath River spill into its natural path, it was met with cheers and tears by more than 100 tribal members, environmentalists and officials watching, many of whom had spent years — if not decades — working to free the river from the dams that had choked it for decades.

“It was kind of a magic moment,” says Craig Tucker, a consultant with the Karuk Tribe who has worked for removal of the four dams on the lower Klamath River for more than 20 years. “You know how you have those milestone moments — like when you graduate from college and walk across the stage, and you don’t really feel different? This felt different. It was like something monumental just happened, like the river is now a river, and there were a flood of emotions that went along with that. Lots of hugs.”

But while the sun has nearly set on the largest dam removal effort in United States history, the work is not done and the sun is just rising on what is hoped to be one of the largest restoration efforts on record, a years-long effort to restore the lower Klamath River and its surrounding ecosystem to its natural state.

Work will continue through October to remove the last remnants of the four dams and their ancillary structures, as a team of biologists and ecologists work to manage a significant remaining threat to the adult salmon just entering the river’s mouth. Meanwhile, work is underway to continue replanting and reseeding thousands of acres of land that sat for decades covered by man-made reservoirs, and to open up hundreds of miles of salmon-bearing tributaries and restore them to health.

If you happen by just about any section of the lower Klamath River these days, you’ll likely notice it resembles chocolate milk, turbid and muddy, filled with sediment that had been trapped for generations behind the dams.

“Removing dams is like open heart surgery, it’s traumatic to the patient,” Tucker says. “But you do things to mitigate the impacts.”

Since the earliest stages of planning to remove the four dams — Iron Gate, Copco 1, Copco 2 and J.C. Boyle — there have been concerns about the impact of releasing the estimated 15 million cubic yards of sediment trapped behind them. Crews drew down the reservoirs behind the dams in the winter months, so naturally high-river flows would flush the sediment out to sea.

Photo courtesy of Swiftwater Films
A tribal ecologist plants native starts in the newly exposed mudflat of a former reservoir.

That was successful, Tucker says, but now the concern is that as the last temporary coffer dams are removed, it will release another flush of sediment — a very fine particulate resulting from years of decomposing, dead algae. The substance is anoxic, meaning it will suck oxygen from the surrounding water when released, and is too fine and liquid to scoop out with a backhoe and put in a truck. Releasing it all at once — or waiting for a rain event that would do the same — could “nuke the river,” Tucker says, killing all those adult salmon just returning to spawn. As such, he says crews are currently releasing 5,000 cubic yards at a time while biologists monitor oxygen levels down river.

“We want to get all this stuff out before the adults would reach Iron Gate, but we can’t evacuate it too quickly or we’ll affect the oxygen levels,” Tucker says, conceding it’s a tricky balance that will continue until those fish reach what used to be Iron Gate Dam, which is expected to happen Sept. 20.

The good news, Tucker says, is that salmon are resilient and can deal with some turbidity, and that no matter what happens, this year will be a singular impact that will pale in comparison to the annual impacts of blocked fish passage and poor water quality the dams created.

“This is temporary,” he says. “It’s not going to look like this forever.”

Meanwhile, work to restore the Klamath River Valley is ramping up. While seeding and planting efforts began in concert with the reservoir draw downs — with ecologists wanting to get native seed mixes on the freshly exposed reservoir floors while they were still saturated and wet — they are entering a new stage.

Dave Coffman, a geoscientist for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), a subcontractor leading the restoration effort, says teams have spent years planning the restoration effort — amassing a bank of more than 17 billion native seeds and 300,000 tree and shrub plugs — the full reality of the job is just coming into focus.

“We spent five years planning a restoration project that we just now have access to,” he says, explaining that only after the reservoirs were drawn down, allowing the river to find its path through former beds, could crews collect soil samples and test composition. “We are drinking from a fire hose when it comes to learning about our site.”

Currently, he says, crews are hard at work using farming equipment to break up the dry, cracked, clay-like substance that covers the newly exposed reservoir floors, preparing them for another seeding effort. Meanwhile, he says, boulders and rocks — some taken from the earthen fill dams themselves — will be placed on the newly exposed bedrock that once supported the dams, providing important habitat that can provide respite for migrating adult salmon and protection for vulnerable fry. Then there’s all those tributaries, some which have themselves been choked with sediment from decades of flowing into stagnant reservoirs. Coffman says crews will take a case-by-case approach, using equipment to excavate sediment from some, nudging others to their historic footprints, removing fish passage barriers in some and adding fallen trees to create shelter in others.

Joshua Chenoweth, a senior riparian ecologist for the Yurok Tribe, who says he’s primarily responsible for reseeding the 2,000 acres of newly exposed reservoir floor, says crews will begin work in October to reseed areas that couldn’t be reached when the reservoirs were drained, adding they also have 116,000 shrub and tree plugs to plant this year. Chenoweth says the seed mixes are being tweaked — with some species added and others taken out — to fit conditions of each of the former reservoirs. Another round of seeding and planting is slated for 2025.

Tucker says one thing that dawned on him when he was standing at the foot of the valley that once held Iron Gate Reservoir is that the watershed will soon have two big valleys that will soon be restored to a natural state.

“I don’t know of any river valleys of this size on the West Coast that are undeveloped,” he says. “We can really make this a wild, naturally productive place again.”

And Tucker and others underscored that this moment would not have been possible without decades of activism from tribal nations, including the Karuk and Yurok tribes on the lower Klamath, whose culture and sustenance have been interwoven with the river for millennia.

North Coast Congressmember Jared Huffman, who joined the fight in 2012 after redistricting shifted congressional district boundaries and played an important role in the pressure campaign that ultimately brought PacifiCorp, the Berkshire Hathaway subsidiary that owned the dams, back to the negotiating table, spent some time on the river last week.

A recently planted blossoming Menzie's fiddleneck attracts a painted lady butterfly as a part of an effort to add small flowering plants to the landscape that will aid pollinators. - PHOTO BY MATT MAIS/YUROK TRIBE

Photo by Matt Mais/Yurok Tribe
A recently planted blossoming Menzie’s fiddleneck attracts a painted lady butterfly as a part of an effort to add small flowering plants to the landscape that will aid pollinators.

“Being part of this journey is just magic, so much so that I didn’t mind at all that the river water looked like the Mississippi,” he says, adding that the magnitude of the moment is palpable. “It’s huge. There’s no way to overstate it. This has been so long in coming, and it embodies so many hopes and dreams and long-standing grievances and injustices. It’s very emotional for the tribal leaders who I work with, who have been in the trenches for decades in some cases. You can just sense a new hope and sense of satisfaction. They’re practically beaming with it.”

In a statement issued after the last coffer dam was breached late last month, Yurok Vice Chair Frankie Myers noted the effort was never a choice for tribal members.

“The dams that have divided the basin are now gone and the river is free,” he said. “Our sacred duty to our children, our ancestors, and for ourselves, is to take care of the river, and today’s events represent a fulfillment of that obligation.”

But restoration will continue, and Coffman says RES’ obligation remains, noting that work and monitoring efforts will continue for a minimum of five years. Ultimately, however, he says the company is bound not by time but a performance guarantee, having promised to meet certain benchmarks — like vegetative cover, trees per acre, species diversity — before the job is done.

“Nobody has ever done something like this before,” he says. “We’re here to see this landscape recover, here to steward it through to recovery alongside our tribal partners, the folks who have been stewarding these landscapes for millennia.”

Thadeus Greenson (he/him) is the Journal’s news editor. Reach him at (707) 442-1400, extension 321, or [email protected]

Copco 2 Dam

Build: Copco 2, a 33-foot-tall concrete dam that stretches 278 feet wide and sits between the much larger Copco 1 and Iron Gate dams, was constructed in 1925 as a diversion dam, running water from the river through a nearby powerhouse to generate electricity.

Removal: The first dam removed, Copco 2 was demolished in July of 2023 when the Klamath River Renewal Corporation brought heavy equipment into the area to prep Copco 1 for the drawing down of its reservoir in January. Contractors drilled holes 12 to 15 feet into the concrete of Copco 2, filled them with explosives and detonated them, then used hydraulic picks and other machinery to break down the rubble until it was manageable and could be hauled away.

Restoration: Due to the small footprint of Copco 2 and its proximity to Copco 1, it was not considered a primary restoration focus. Dave Coffman, a geoscientist for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), says because Copco 2 was built in a narrow bedrock canyon with steep slopes, its infeasible to do much restoration planting around it. As such, he says the plan is to essentially let nature run its course, hoping native plants growing above it will drop seed that will catch in the canyon walls.

Iron Gate Dam

Build: Constructed in 1962, Iron Gate Dam is the lowest of the dams that comprise the Klamath River Hydroelectric Project, creating an artificial lake that can hold up to 58,000 acre feet of water. Standing 173 feet tall and stretching 740 feet wide, the earthen embankment dam was constructed of compacted earth under a waterproof surface.

Removal: Iron Gate Dam was removed from the top down, with excavators removing the approximately 1 million cubic yards of soil and earthen materials. Most of that earthen material was hauled away, though some was used on site to fill a spillway and a massive erosion hole it had created. Work continues to dismantle the last vestiges of the dam, as well as its ancillary structures.

Restoration: The primary restoration areas around the former Iron Gate Reservoir are the reservoir bed itself, which crews began seeding and replanting with native species as the reservoir was drawn down, and its main tributaries, including Jenny Creek, the Camp Creek Complex and Scotch Creek. Approximately 388,000 cubic yards of sediment were mechanically removed. Joshua Chenoweth, a senior riparian ecologist with the Yurok Tribe, says crews are utilizing a different seeding and planting strategy in the Iron Gate Reservoir than those upstream because it’s at a lower elevation with a different climate. As such, he says they’re using a customized native seed mix and planting tress like oaks and junipers, which aren’t found upriver around J.C. Boyle, as well as scrub shrubs. And even within the reservoir itself, there’s variation, according to Dave Coffman, a geoscientist for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), who says crews are tailoring vegetation different for the valley’s north- and south-facing slopes. “Even within the Iron Gate Reservoir itself, there’s not a one-size-fits-all approach to vegetation restoration,” Coffman says.

J.C. Boyle Dam

Build: Built in 1958, the John C. Boyle Dam — commonly referred to J.C. Boyle — stood 68 feet tall and 693 feet wide, creating its namesake reservoir that held 4,200 acre feet of water. The farthest upriver of the four lower Klamath dams, it was comprised of concrete and earthfill embankment.

Removal: Existing culverts were used to draw down the J.C. Boyle reservoir, after which crews demolished its spillway portion with hydraulic hammers mounted to a large excavator, progressively breaking the concrete into pieces that could be removed and hauled. Excavators and trucks then removed the earthen portion of the dam.

Restoration: The primary restoration focus around J.C. Boyle Dam is the former reservoir site, which was seeded and planted starting when drawdown began, as well as Spencer Creek and several unnamed tributaries that have reconnected with the river’s main stem. An estimated 40,000 cubic yards of sediment was also mechanically removed. Because the J.C. Boyle Reservoir sees moisture before those downriver, Dave Coffman, a geoscientist for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), says his crews have started there, using pasture remediators — a kind of farming equipment — to break up the dried clay-like reservoir beds, which Yurok Senior Riparian Ecologist Joshua Chenoweth says have cracks running 2-feet deep in some places. After the soil is broken up, crews will hand plant a custom seed mix, with Chenoweth noting, “Seed germination is all about the seed-to-soil contact,” so the soil preparation work is crucial. Additionally, whereas downriver plantings will see a mix of oaks and junipers, Coffman says the J.C. Boyle area will see more ponderosa pines.

Copco 1 Dam

Build: Built in 1918, Copco 1 is a gravity dam that stands 125 feet tall and stretches 415 feet wide, creating a reservoir capacity of 46,900 acre feet in Copco Lake, which sits in Siskiyou County near the Oregon border.

Removal: Work to deconstruct Copco 1 Dam began with the installation of a “work pad” at its downstream base to allow a stable work area for heavy equipment. Crews then used a drill-and-shoot method to bore a 10-foot-wide tunnel through the dams base, meaning they repeatedly drilled into the dam, packed the hole with explosives, detonated them and excavated the rubble until they’d dug a 150-foot-long tunnel, leaving just a final plug of concrete to keep the water from escaping. In January, crews then blasted this plug, opening the tunnel to begin drawing down the reservoir. The dam was then removed much the same as Copco 2, just on a much larger scale, with crews drilling and blasting it apart, reducing it to rubble that can be hauled from the site by truck. Work continues to remove the last pieces of the dam, as well as the dam house.

Restoration: The primary focus of restoration efforts at the former site of Copco 1 have been Beaver Creek Complex, Deer Creek and the spring-fed floodplain. An estimated 346,000 cubic yards of sediment was mechanically removed from the area. While the Copco Lake area is somewhat similar to Iron Gate downriver, Dave Coffman, a geoscientist for Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), points out that they’re still separated by 30 miles, noting that it’s not uncommon to see snow at Copco 1 after temperatures have warmed significantly at Iron Gate. As such, while the seed mixes are generally the same, Coffman says crews are taking a customized approach to the reservoir. Coffman notes that a lava flow once blocked the Klamath River there, creating a flat, lacustrine valley that persisted for thousands of years before the river eroded it and broke through. After reservoir draw down, Coffman says it was discovered there are natural springs in the valley nobody thought would be there, saying restoration is now being tailored to include more wetland areas to accommodate “pretty significant spring flows that come from the north side of the valley.”

Lifestyle

‘Melania’ is Amazon’s airbrushed and astronomically pricey portrait of the First Lady

Published

3 hours ago

January 31, 2026

Press Room

‘Melania’ is Amazon’s airbrushed and astronomically pricey portrait of the First Lady

Melania Trump.

Muse Films/Amazon MGM Studios

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Muse Films/Amazon MGM Studios

If you’ve seen the trailer for The Devil Wears Prada 2 — prominently featuring shots of stiletto heels walking down corridors — you’ve got the general drift of what director Brett Ratner is up to in Melania. Melania is a high heels-forward documentary.

It covers the 20 days prior to her husband’s second inauguration, when much planning is required of a First Lady: Ball and banquet invitations, place-settings for a candle-lit dinner in Washington D.C.’s National Building Museum. Her staff previews for her the golden egg that will be that meal’s first course, and wonders whether the rectangular tablecloths should have broad gold stripes, and the round ones narrow stripes, or vice versa. So many decisions, and she’s on top of all of them.

The once-and-future President makes an occasional appearance, including in what appears to be a staged flashback to an election-night phone call. At another point, she drops by with her camera crew as he’s rehearsing his inaugural speech, and she suggests that he identify himself as a peacemaker “and a unifier.“ He incorporates it on the big day — in the film to a big burst of applause, which inspires a quick nod to his wife in gratitude. That’s not quite how it played out in real life; the applause and the nod are editing tricks. But never mind, the film Melania is her story, and — as not just its leading lady, but also an executive producer — she’s entitled to tell it any way she wants, peppered with needle drops from her favorite songs, including Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.”

An advertisement for First Lady Melania Trump's new documentary.

It’s a story that’s not without hiccups — the blouse collar that’s loose in the back, and not high enough; Former President Carter’s inconvenient death just before the inauguration, with his funeral falling on the first anniversary of her mother’s death. The First Lady talks in scripted voiceover through this section about missing her mom, and in decidedly unspontaneous voiceovers elsewhere about the Capitol building’s history, and her respect for the military, and at one point about the “elegance and sophistication of our donors,” as the camera drifts past Jeff Bezos, whose company Amazon did indeed donate $1 million for the inaugural.

It also paid $40 million to buy this film. That price makes Melania arguably the most expensive infomercial in history. It also makes it inconceivable that the film will return a profit — it’s only expected to take in a paltry $5 million dollars worldwide this weekend. That’s prompted speculation in Hollywood circles about what else Amazon thinks it bought when it purchased the film.

But that will be fodder someday for a far better documentary than the curated, airbrushed, glamorously dressed portrait that is Melania.

Editor’s note: Amazon is among NPR’s recent financial supporters and pays to distribute some NPR content.

Lifestyle

L.A. Affairs: How I learned the difference between love and survival in a chemsex world

Published

4 hours ago

January 31, 2026

Press Room

L.A. Affairs: How I learned the difference between love and survival in a chemsex world

On Christmas morning, the man I thought I needed left me in another man’s cabin.

Hours earlier, Thom and I had been sprawled on the floor of a Santa Rosa utility closet where we’d been living, passing a meth pipe between us. I was 34 at the time. The mattress barely fit and it folded like a taco beside lube and dead torch lighters. Thom, in his 50s, had become my partner in chaos.

“Christmas. Anything you wanna do?” he asked with a tenderness I didn’t trust.

I scrolled Grindr. I’d traded seeing my family for crystal meth and the relief of nobody expecting anything of me.

After crashing my mom’s car and a stint in jail, I couldn’t face her disappointment. A decade in New York had promised stardom; by Christmas 2016, the promise had curdled. All I had left were men who only wanted my body. That was all I had left to give.

I showed Thom a torso-only photo on Grindr. “This guy’s having people over.”

He squinted. “That’s Ed.”

Thom’s Prius wound into Guerneville, a gay mountain retreat with meth undercurrents. That’s where Ed, a onetime costume designer, held his gatherings. Porn playing, GHB Gatorade, torch lighters that actually worked — everything we’d failed at. Billy, who was in his mid-20s, answered the door naked.

The cabin smelled of rot and wood smoke. We stripped down. It was part ritual, part performance. It’s how I’d stayed high and housed for the last few months. So I knew what came next. I knew my role. I pulled on a jockstrap two sizes too small.

Ed, who was in his 60s, grinned. “You’ve got that ‘West Side Story’ face, like you’re about to break into dance at the gym,” he said.

“Well, I played Tony,” I shot back. “No dancing for me.”

He laughed, and we were off, trading theater jokes, wardrobe malfunction stories and references Thom couldn’t follow. Thom’s jaw tightened as our connection excluded him.

He watched, his contempt spilling over, calculating whether I was worth competing for.

His face said exactly what I was: too much, replaceable. We were all using each other: Ed and Thom locked in an old rivalry, me the bait that kept older men supplied with boys. Billy was about to be replaced by me — I didn’t care. That was the cycle.

Thom yanked on his jeans, gave me one last sharp look and slammed the door. I waited for his car to circle back, even just to tell me off, but it never did. So I stayed with Ed.

Months blurred together without Thom. His absence weighed more than his presence ever had. With Ed, there was more than meth and sex. He spoke to the part of me that still loved literature, pop culture, acting — the part I assumed died. It wasn’t love the way people imagine it, but it was the closest thing I’d felt in years.

We settled into a routine of smoking, not sleeping, drawn curtains and dirty dishes until one morning I made peace with dying in a chemical haze.

“You really loved Thom,” Ed whispered over eggs neither of us wanted and then added, “I’m just glad I won.”

The words were petty, but I knew what he meant. I wasn’t just another Billy. In his own broken way, Ed cared, enough to know I didn’t belong there, not forever.

I stared at him, trying to read his next move. Was he kicking me out?

“If I let you stay here, I’d never forgive myself.” His voice was low, steadier than usual.

Ed was a dark character, fueled by his own hurt — he didn’t need to consider my future, he could’ve kept using me like everyone else had.

“Would you take me to L.A.?” I asked.

Ed nodded. “I’ve got an uncle in Venice.”

So we packed up his orange Honda Element. We tried leaving a few times, car loaded, engine running, but we were too high or too terrified of life on life’s terms. Then we finally made it. Even collapse felt easier in motion than rotting in that cabin.

The Central Valley stretched endlessly with dead grass and lawyer billboards. As palm trees started appearing, the air felt different — warmer, full of promises I hadn’t earned. But I told myself I would — if I could just get clean.

Ed’s uncle’s garage apartment reeked of must and jug wine. It was blocks from Venice Beach, yet still a prison. I didn’t know how to break free from the drug or the cycle that had trapped me. “Isn’t there a Ferris wheel on the beach?”

This was me trying to sound like I’d be willing to brave the world outside. But Ed knew better.

“That’s Santa Monica, the pier.”

The next day I reached out to Diana, an old college friend in North Hollywood. I’d told myself just get to L.A. — old connections would save me. But the look on her face when she saw me, my emaciated frame, the chemical burn under my clavicle, sour smell I couldn’t mask, told me otherwise. She hugged me stiffly, then pulled back.

“Jesus, Nick,” she said.

Ed said he was leaving and going back to Guerneville, but I begged for one more night. At a cheap motel, I accused him of hiding drugs.

“They’re my drugs,” Ed snapped. He grabbed his keys and was gone.

Abandonment had a sound — engine noise fading into Ventura Boulevard traffic. By morning, I still hadn’t slept. Outside, the sky burned neon pink and orange, the kind of L.A. sunrise that’s beautiful even if it’s born from smog. I just lay there, listening. Every car that slowed could be Diana or nobody.

At 10 a.m., she knocked, flinched when she saw me and helped me into her car. On the drive, she filled the silence with inconsequential chatter, as if nothing had changed. I pressed my forehead to the glass and counted palm trees to slow my heart.

Three months later, I landed at Van Ness Recovery House, an old Victorian in Beachwood Canyon under the Hollywood sign — 20 beds, three group sessions a day and nowhere left to lie.

The program director, Kathy, slid me a scrap of paper. It had a phone number with an area code I recognized.

“Ed?” I asked, though it wasn’t really a question. I knew what was next. I’d told the whole story in group. She knew everything.

“No contact. Ever,” Kathy said. I nodded.

“Tell him it’s over, and then hang up.”

Kathy handed me the phone. My hands shook as I dialed.

“Nick! How are you, sweetheart?” Ed answered, his voice warm and familiar.

Tears came before words. “Ed, I can’t … They say I can’t talk to you anymore.”

Silence stretched as Kathy watched and waited.

“But you helped me. You got me here. You …”

“Hang up, Nick,” she said firmly. “He’s a backdoor to your recovery.”

“I have to go,” I whispered.

“Wait, Nick, …” he started, but I hung up, Kathy’s eyes still on me. I handed the receiver back to her.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said. “This is your last chance. You can’t afford an escape route.”

Outside, the Hollywood sign caught the afternoon light. For the first time in months, no meth psychosis obstructed my view. It looked different, not a destination, but a witness.

Ten years later, I’m married to someone I met at an AA meeting; a quiet, steady love, the opposite of the chaos I once mistook for devotion. We bought a house in the Valley, have two rescue bulldogs. Today, when I drive past Van Ness — that old Victorian recovery house where I learned to tell the truth — I remember the Nick who thought survival was the same as love.

It wasn’t. But it got me to Los Angeles, where I finally learned the difference.

The author is a Los Angeles–based writer with recent bylines in the Cut, HuffPost and the Washington Post.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

Lifestyle

These films took home top awards at Sundance — plus seven our critic loved

Published

15 hours ago

January 30, 2026

Press Room

These films took home top awards at Sundance — plus seven our critic loved

Miles Gutierrez-Riley, John Slattery, Ben Wang, Ken Marino, and Zoey Deutch in Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass, from director David Wain.

Sundance Institute

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Sundance Institute

2026 was an especially notable year for the Sundance Film Festival: it was the first without its legendary founder Robert Redford, who died last year, and it was the last to be held in Park City, Utah. Beginning next year, the fest will relocate to Boulder, Colo. for the foreseeable future.

As Sundance said goodbye to its home of over 40 years and honored Redford’s legacy, protests continued in Minnesota and across the country due to the escalated presence of Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Alex Pretti was killed by federal agents on day three of Sundance, and at least one protest against ICE took place in Park City afterward. A man was arrested for assaulting Florida Congressman Maxwell Frost at a Sundance party; on social media, Frost said the man yelled racist slurs and said President Trump was going to deport Frost.

And in the middle of it all: movies. Sundance awards were announced on Friday; Josephine, director Beth de Araújo’s intense family drama, won the U.S. Dramatic Grand Jury Prize (more on that below), and Nuisance Bear, Gabriela Osio Vanden and Jack Weisman’s film set in Churchill, Manitoba, the “Polar Bear Capital of the World,” won the U.S. Documentary Grand Jury Prize. (You can see the full list of winners here.)

I was on the ground for the first few days of the fest and then caught up with more films at home during the virtual portion. Here are a few of my favorites.

Once Upon a Time in Harlem

Aaron Douglas, Jean Blackwell Hutson, Nathan Huggins, Richard Bruce Nugent, Eubie Blake and Irvin C. Miller in Once Upon A Time In Harlem.

William Greaves Productions/Sundance Institute

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William Greaves Productions/Sundance Institute

Hands down, the best film I saw is simultaneously old and new: In 1972, groundbreaking filmmaker William Greaves convened an intellectual gathering of the living dignitaries of the Harlem Renaissance at the palatial home of Duke Ellington. The project remained unfinished until now; it’s finally been restored and completed by Greaves’ son David, who served as a cameraman all those years ago. (William died in 2014.) What was captured is a priceless, crucial, and riveting piece of history — notable figures like actor Leigh Whipper, journalist Gerri Major, visual artist Aaron Douglas, and activist Richard B. Moore engaging in vivid anecdotes and passionate debates about that cultural movement and how it should be remembered. The excavation of such history feels nothing short of monumental.

Josephine

Gemma Chan, Mason Reeves and Channing Tatum in Josephine from director Beth de Araújo.

Greta Zozula/Sundance Institute

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Greta Zozula/Sundance Institute

The buzziest film out of Sundance is probably Beth de Araújo’s sophomore feature starring Channing Tatum and Gemma Chan as the parents of Josephine (Mason Reeves), an 8-year-old girl who witnesses a horrific crime in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. And for good reason; while I have critiques of some of de Araújo’s filmmaking choices, she’s crafted a tense and mostly affecting drama with a very strong performance from Reeves, who carries much of the film’s emotional weight.

Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass

Some movies at the fest were exceptionally horny this year; two projects involving Olivia Wilde, The Invite and I Want Your Sex, were all about the pleasures and frictions of sexual expression. But the raunchy offering that worked best for me was David Wain’s silly and delightful tale of small-town hairdresser Gail Daughtry (Zoey Deutch), who sets out to even the scoreboard after her fiancé unexpectedly winds up using his celebrity “hall pass.” In her quest to track down and sleep with her celebrity crush, she picks up some new friends along the way, Wizard of Oz-style, including a paparazzi photographer (co-writer Ken Marino) and an overconfident, low-level employee at Creative Artists Agency (Ben Wang, the movie’s secret weapon). Jokes about Los Angeles and the cult of celebrity fly fast and free and fun cameos abound; look out for many of Wain’s frequent collaborators.

Filipiñana

Rafael Manuel’s feature debut is an incisive, slow-burning satire of capitalism and powerful men with far too much hubris — basically, a story for our times. It’s set almost entirely on a country club in the Philippines, where the shy and observant Isabel (Jorrybell Agoto) works as a tee girl and crosses paths with the club’s president Dr. Palanca (Teroy Guzman). Manuel’s visual eye is quirky and astute, with gorgeous shots of the pristine golf grounds and other amenities serving as the backdrop for far more sinister happenings.

Frank & Louis

Kingsley Ben-Adir and Rob Morgan in Frank & Louis, directed by Petra Biondina Volpe.

Rob Baker Ashton/Sundance Institute

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Rob Baker Ashton/Sundance Institute

Prison dramas are tough to pull off without veering too heavily into stereotypes and trauma porn, but director Petra Biondina Volpe and co-writer Esther Bernstorff find a unique and profound way in here. Kingsley Ben-Adir plays Frank, who’s serving a life sentence but is coming up for parole. He takes a job caring for other inmates who are experiencing cognitive decline, and is assigned to the prickly and unpredictable Louis (Rob Morgan). The premise is familiar, but the execution is refreshing; the script frankly interrogates the thorny concept of punishment and redemption, and the excellent Ben-Adir and Morgan find humanity within their morally fraught characters.

Carousel

Rachel Lambert’s latest plays like a loving throwback to the intimate, adult romantic melodramas that were in abundant supply before the 2000s. Chris Pine (giving serious Robert Redford in The Way We Were energy) and Jenny Slate play former childhood friends and one-time romantic partners who reconnect after many years and attempt to make it work again. The chemistry between these two is off the charts, whether they’re tentatively yet tenderly falling into an embrace or arguing about each other’s flaws.

The Gallerist

Your mileage may vary with Cathy Yan’s artworld farce, but I had a great time with this, in which Natalie Portman plays a struggling gallery owner who attempts to sell a dead body “disguised” as part of a sculpture, during Art Basel Miami. The ensemble is stacked — Jenna Ortega, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Da’Vine Joy Randolph, and Sterling K. Brown, just for starters — and they all seem to be having a blast. Layer in some commentary about art, commerce, and influencer culture (the increasingly ever-present Charli XCX also has a small role here), and there’s plenty here to take in.