Shaved heads have supplanted ponytails this year and black lipstick is passe.
But enough shallow fashion drivel.And never mind that for the first time in history lower Main Street keeps erupting into a din of honking horns in a rude-driver display more reminiscent of New York City than some little town in the Rocky Mountains.
This is not what the Sundance Film Festival is about, as founder Robert Redford likes to remind everybody every year.
"It's about the filmmakers," Redford insisted the other day, though it's apparent he faces a daunting challenge in trying to keep the once-obscure festival of independent motion pictures from turning into an absurd, Cannes-like display of pop cinemania run amok.
Already there are signs this is happening.
"It's a monster," conceded Redford, though he was quick to add, "It's a good monster."
For the time being that's still true. No place in the world showcases true "indies" to the extent Sundance does. "Indies," of course, are films made outside the formulaic Hollywood system, which, ever since "Star Wars" was released 20 years ago, has been driven by bean-counters looking only to make safe pictures that are likely to do big box-office business. Squeezed out of the loop are riskier, character-driven stories that rely more on personal pathos than pyrotechnics to entrance an audience.
This is the void that Sundance strives to fill.
Where else on any given day can you catch perhaps the definitive Cesar Chavez life-and-times documentary and then walk up the street to see a treatment on the hard life of Britain's working class before taking in a spoof on New-Age idiocy in New Mexico and then unwinding with a nice long shorts program?
Granted, there are disappointments. I stood in line with a friend for a half hour Saturday hoping to see "Family Name," a documentary about a white man's journey to find the roots of two separate but related clans - his own slave-holding ancestors and the blacks they owned.
"Family Name" sold out long before they called our number, so we jumped into the next line just because it was there, and got easy if unfortunate access to something called "Kissed." It turned out to be a drama about a necrophiliac young woman who finds a troubled career as an undertaker. If I were a film critic, I'd have to say something like, "It had potential, but too much time was wasted setting up the story, the film's character development was stunted, and the people in the movie offered us little reason to empathize with them."
But I'm no critic, so I'll just ask a question: "How did they get the money to make THAT picture?"
I saw some good stuff, too. "Brassed Off" is a great example of social issues well dramatized. The very low-budget "I Love You Don't Touch Me!" a simple story of love and choices, offers hope to any aspiring filmmaker who has something intelligent to say.
Movies like these are why Sundance remains a good little monster. Material that can't get a screening anyplace else gets shown here, and thanks to the bigger monsters - Hollywood and the media - some of it will find a wider audience as well.
Maybe the biggest compliment Sundance could get is the emergence of parasitic events trying to emulate the original.
"Slamdance," a lower-grade version of its model, debuted around the corner two years ago and has returned in 1997. On Main Street in the very heart of Park City this week, "Slumdance," a spinoff of the spinoff, has rented a screening room in the town's old jailhouse and is attempting to lure filmgoers in with an offer of "free soup."
The movie business is like real estate maybe. It brings out the desperation in people.
But you have to laud Redford for having the right attitude about the competition, which could use a blessing from the Sundance Kid.
Fine with me, he says.
"Let the people decide."
Karl Cates may be reached by e-mail at karl@desnews.com