Steven Soderbergh’s latest, Presence—his 36th feature, premiering at Sundance 35 years after sex, lies, and videotape, his first—opens with a handheld point-of-view shot, looking down from a second-story window onto a driveway. After a moment, the camera turns and moves rapidly, dizzyingly through the empty, darkened rooms of a 100-year-old home, upstairs and downstairs, returning, finally, to settle in a closet in the room where the journey began. On the one hand, this long opening shot provides a map of the film’s site, which will be restricted to the interior of the home, an intriguing formal constraint that is a further condition of the initial choice of camera perspective, one that will never change: the first-person POV shot.
Soderbergh says he’s been adamant that such a condition would never work for narrative media (particularly for VR projects), insisting that the viewer will always require a reverse shot at some point, revealing the subject of the POV, the looker who the camera’s eye represents. The viewer will want an expression, an emotion in response to what’s seen. (Think of Jimmy Stewart’s reaction shots to his voyeuristic peeps at his neighbors in Rear Window.) But what’s already occurred to us, after the opening minutes of Presence, is that our feeling of disorientation, even as we’re becoming oriented to the house, is not ours: this feeling belongs to the camera, to the point of view, or character, it represents, that of the film’s titular presence. Its anxiety and confusion is palpable in the camera’s rapid panning and tracking, which is not jittery, so much as slithery, maybe slippery, a condition that sometimes made me worry for the cameraman—Soderbergh himself—as he goes flying up and down the old hardwood staircase. (He was wearing martial arts shoes for traction.)
In Presence, Soderbergh has made a rather novel ghost story. Novel not just for its technical constraints, but also in the sense that the ghost is not a ghost. It’s never referred to as anything but a presence. There are narrative reasons for this, a distinction that’s being made between a ghost, a thing that remains behind, a figure defined by the past, and a presence, an entity that inhabits, a thing of the present and maybe also of the future. While Soderbergh leans into several of the conventional capacities of a traditional ghost, not shying away from a few old-timey, actually unexpected, effects, the nature of the presence and particularly its identity contribute substantive mystery to the film, which is less a supernatural thriller than a family drama shaded by another definition of the title.
The presence in Presence, as it turns out, ends up cohabiting this old house with a deeply unsettled family, Lucy Liu and Chris Sullivan playing parents to Ty (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang). Ty is his mother’s favorite, a vigorous and aggressive high school swimmer with big ambitions. Chloe, headstrong in her own way, is suffering from the shock and grief of recently losing a close friend, a strange death with extenuating circumstances. As the family takes a tour with their realtor, the presence immediately develops an interest in Chloe, prompting a hint of awareness from the girl that sets in motion themes of haunting, sensitivity and the nearness of death.
But it’s not just Chloe’s tragic experience that’s disrupting the family’s life. Mom and Dad are opposite characters, entangled in some kind of shady business that might destroy them, and Ty is prone to violent tirades, threatening that he will not let what he perceives as his sister’s problems derail his dreams. The sources of these destructive tensions are not unknown to the family, but they seem incapable of speaking about them without running up against the obstacle of each other’s certainty that they cannot, or should not, be the one to compromise or attempt change. Of course, given the film’s constraint, we can know nothing about anything without the presence as a witness, hanging about, taking interest, paying attention, perhaps trying to intervene, perhaps hoping to better understand itself in relation to these four human presences. In this sense, as a proxy for the audience and as our sole conduit of information and drama, the invisible entity, a seeming absence, becomes a metaphor for presence itself, a figure that offers something of an alternative to the lack of presence—concern, trust, transparency, care—that the family members are prepared to offer one another. Can the presence, as presence, effect change?
Liu, Liang, and Maday’s performances are uniformly strong, but Sullivan really stands out, particularly in a heartfelt scene with Liang, essentially a monologue, articulating the depth and breadth of a father’s love. And one should also praise Soderbergh’s performance as a cinematographer. His choreography with and around the actors is both elegant and affecting.
It should be noted that, while we may wonder about the nature of the presence, there is also a truly disturbing monster in the film, and fair questions have been raised about the detail with which that figure’s atrocities are shown. Again, given the formal constraints of the film, witnessing seems simply to be playing by the rules. Then again, the film’s genuine moral sensibility, constructed and played out through the ambiguities and actions of the presence, also seems to require it, and us, to see in order to know. And once we know, rather than suspect, whether and how to act—character, in a sense—becomes clear.
At any rate, Presence is an intriguing and challenging new experiment by a master filmmaker, making it well worth a watch.






The Looming examines ageism and mental health in a short, chilling horror tale.
The film is part of the Sundance Film Festival’s 2024 Midnight Short Film Program and directed by Masha Ko, who is also known for previous short films Bona to Vada and (W)hole.
Seventy-year-old Chester lives alone. One night, he hears noises. An investigation around the house takes place, and we get the sense something is, well, looming. Then more ferocious noises soon take their place, and it seems clear to Chester, and viewers, that something is after him. He isn’t taken seriously by others, and it’s unclear if Chester’s daughter, Melody, will be any help.
At least Chester has Luna, The Looming’s version of Amazon’s Alexa, by his side, validating his experiences and adding an element reminiscent of Black Mirror.
As someone who experienced memory loss due to an accident, I can think of few things scarier than dementia, losing one’s past and identity. In 15 minutes, Masha Ko has viewers questioning whether that is happening to Chester, or if it’s all real. Either way, it’s scary stuff.
Joseph Lopez, who plays Chester, does an excellent job making us fear for this hermit we get the sense is starved for human contact. His creepy home is complemented by even creepier practical effects, specifically when it comes to the monster played by a contortionist.
The Looming screens on Jan. 22, at 10 p.m. at The Ray, Park City. It will be online Jan. 25–28.
Ko’s explanation of the film offers further depth:
“My grandfather passed and I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she said in a filmmaker statement. “So, I made this film as a call for us to see—really see—the elderly among us. It’s a story that shines a light on the often ignored realities of our elders, who are too frequently relegated to the margins of our narratives, and our lives. I hope that in the reflection of Chester’s story, the viewers are reminded of their own families. Ultimately, The Looming is a call to action, a reminder to view our elders with empathy and inclusivity.
“The stark reality of my grandfather’s death influenced my genre approach: to present a narrative where reality itself is more chilling than any fictional monster.”
As a filmmaker, Ko wants to explore stories that are often overlooked. We will discuss The Looming and what Ko has planned for the future in an upcoming Q&A post.
Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden return to Sundance this year with a pretty delightful, action-packed romp through late-80s Oakland, Freaky Tales. The film takes its name from a rap by Oakland legend Too $hort, who serves as our narrator and also has a brief cameo. (Keep an eye out for Marshawn Lynch, Sleepy Floyd, Tim Armstong and that guy from The Money Pit.) Though Oakland’s rap scene does play a role here, the film’s four chapters intertwine storylines traveling through the diverse socio-cultural landscape of the city at the time, which, as one cast member noted after the premiere, has been severely disrupted in recent years by gentrification. To that point, Freaky Tales’ nostalgia doesn’t overly fetishize fashion or music or objects, though all of these contribute to a more or less authentic feel. Rather, the film is interested in a lost and obviously beloved community. It’s interested in the ways in which, particularly perhaps from Fleck’s perspective, a sector of young Oakland at that time shared a dogged resistance to forces that wanted to crush and humiliate it.
The underdog is a central metaphor in Freaky Tales, and nothing characterizes this state-of-being better than the event that frames the whole film: Game Four of the Western Conference Semifinals, featuring the Golden State Warriors (remember, they used to play in Oakland?) and the Showtime Los Angeles Lakers. On May 10 that year, the Warriors were down 3-0 in the series, but, as we’re reminded early on in Freaky Tales, Golden State point guard Eric “Sleepy” Floyd scored 51 points in Game 4 to ruin a Lakers series sweep. Something was in the air that night, Too $hort tells us, signified by a weird green light that appears in a variety of forms throughout the film.
Before we get to the full implications of this seemingly supernatural event, however, Fleck and Boden lead us through some preliminaries, including an epic battle for existence between the denizens of a punk club fighting a band of neo-Nazis, and two young women, the rap duo Danger Zone, braving their fears to take the stage and battle a local idol. These first two chapters are certainly entertaining, wild and gory, but they do feel a bit light, even predictable, as we begin to wonder when the love, friendship and heroics we’re seeing will meet up with some true challenges, giving the whole project more substance.
Chapter 3, the longest to this point and featuring an engaging Pedro Pascal, delivers both tragedy and even greater stakes as some of the Tarantino-like path-crossing we’ve seen earlier begins to add up. The grand finale pushes Sleepy Floyd’s heroism to unimaginable heights, confirming the film’s central premise that its most generous and community-oriented figures, those who work to lift others up without regard for profit, will always come out on top. At least in fantasy.
More than an easy nostalgia trip, Freaky Tales is a pretty fun comic book, set in something like an alternative present, made, quite nicely, to look like the past. (The gore meter registers high, however, so be warned.) It doesn’t matter that many of the film’s moves are familiar. (There actually are some great surprises in the final chapter, and the use of animation throughout is both practical and clever.) Rather, Freaky Tales’ entertainment lies in its goofy and eager desire to expand on the joy of that one great night in the Coliseum, when the underdog knocked the bully cold, made the impossible possible. And even though the forces of darkness, with all their money and power, always seem to come back stronger to finish the job (and to take your team across the Bay), maybe that green glimmer of hope will be enough to encourage you to mount a resistance one more time.
One benefit to a reviewer of Gary Hustwit’s innovative documentary Eno’s reported 52 quintillion possible versions is that there’s no possibility of spoilers. Practically, the film’s most significant feature is its constant reconfiguration at the digital hands of generative software Hustwit developed with artist Brendan Dawes, assuring that every showing will be different than the last. While Hustwit told his audience at the film’s premiere that this version had been fully rendered in advance, ideally the work should be assembled as it plays in real time. When you see Eno—and you must see it—you will experience a completely different film than I did, and—this is where one might feel some frustration at the process—you’ll likely see scenes that I didn’t see, just as I’ve seen things you won’t. Zooming in from the UK to participate in the post-film Q&A, Brian Eno suggested that the project operates like human memory, following a winding path of unpredictable associations to create a rich and complex but always incomplete, or unfinished, portrait.
In terms of content, the film is truly one of the most inspiring works on creativity that I’ve seen in some time. It helps, of course, that its subject is a tremendously likeable human being. Eno is pure delight as a guide to himself and his aesthetics, reflecting with great precision on and clear-eyed analysis of his development as a musician, a composer, a producer and a visual artist. Though he’s now in his 70s, Eno’s ultimately positive and relentlessly curious approach to innovation feels as fresh and essential as it would have (to those with ears) in his glam rock period with Roxy Music in the early 1970s. Back then, Eno tells us, his axe was the newly developed synthesizer because the technology interested him and he had no capacity to play any other instrument. That even now the producer of iconic works by David Bowie, The Talking Heads, U2, and many others cannot write with conventional musical notation and has little use for common compositional terms is a testament to the tremendous power and precision of Eno’s creative imagination and his capacity to communicate his original ideas through intuitive and organic approaches to rhythm, melody, sonic mimicry, and metaphor.
One thing Eno is not is sentimental. There’s a touch of comic, cringing regret as he wades through the material archives of past experiments that Hustwit has asked him to revisit. But there’s also evidence of lingering interest and pleasure, as when Eno finds some of his daughter’s drawings in an old notebook (“this was her abstract period”), or, when flipping over a mini-cassette featuring crude vocal experiments that make him laugh, he suddenly recognizes Bono working out the vocal style for 1984’s “Pride (In the Name of Love).” The rawness and emergent brilliance playing through the recorder’s tinny speaker arrest Eno, as if he’s hearing this music for the first time.
As we might expect from a more conventional documentary, this moment transitions into an extended, edited sequence of fascinating and revealing archival studio footage in which a younger Eno encourages and mildly provokes a notably shy Bono into the defiant vocal character that defines the song, the very character for which the U2 front man is best known. When Bono complains, somewhat meekly, later in the sequence, that “Pride” no longer feels “grand” due to a reduction in length, Eno’s simple suggestion to slow it down brings a song that’s become nearly unhearable today because of its ubiquity into a renewed focus for the viewer, and the band’s earnest expressions of pleasure and discovery (of themselves) is startlingly moving. This is not solely the doing of Brian Eno. It’s a vision of the joy of collaboration, risk, and emergence.
Given the power and effectiveness of such typical documentary moves applied to this material, one may well ask if the formal experiment with generative processes is as productive as it might be. Does it make the film great or is its most important contribution to evoke, rather than build on, Eno’s approach to composition? In my version—which, to be clear, will never be seen again—the film closed with a somewhat thin consideration of what Eno’s aesthetics offer art made in response to contemporary environmental collapse. There’s obvious and important potential here that simply isn’t as developed as an earlier sequence on Eno’s concept of surrender, for example. But then, in your version, maybe the environmental point will be adequately developed while surrender may not appear at all. That’d be unfortunate for you. But you win some, you lose some, and maybe the most beautiful aspect of Eno’s life-art project is that failure simply doesn’t exist. “Honor thy error as hidden intention,” reads one of Eno’s famous Oblique Strategies. You just keep asking questions—what is art? what does an artist do? what have we never heard before? where have we never been before?—and the work keeps on going, shifting, growing, not becoming better necessarily, just more and more interesting.
The 2024 Sundance Film Festival officially opens Thursday in Park City and Salt Lake City, and the full lineup includes more than 80 films that will be screening at this year’s festival, including film premieres and film entries competing in a variety of categories.
There is always hype around a handful of Sundance films before most people, including critics and industry insiders, even have a chance to see them, but one of the best parts of the Sundance Film Festival is the films that surprise us.
We spoke to Salt Lake magazine film contributors Michael Mejia and Jaime Winston to get their list of films that they think will make an impact this year, and we spoke with one of the people responsible for selecting Sundance’s film lineup. Heidi Zwicker is a Senior Programmer with Sundance Film Festival and she outlined some of the films that have her excited.

“It’s maybe no surprise that AI is a trending topic, with documentaries in the U.S. and World competitions (Love Machina and Eternal You, respectively), NEXT (Seeking Mavis Beacon), and an interactive project in New Frontier [Being (the Digital Griot)],” explains Meijia. “Also I’m very interested in Love Me, the Alfred P. Sloane Feature Film Prize winner, a post-apocalyptic love story between two pieces of space detritus.”
Starting off, there was a lot of buzz about Love Me this year, as Sundance had already given the film an award before the Festival began. “Love Me stars Kristen Stewart and Stephen Yeun, who are both amazing actors. And I don’t think I could say better than the logline,” says Zwicker. The film is about “a buoy and a satellite” who meet online and fall in love long after humanity’s extinction.
“It’s really inventive, but it’s hard. It’s a love story that plays out in all these exciting ways, but it’s about human connection and so it’s beautiful and different. That’s something that we really like to see, too, is stuff we haven’t seen before,” says Zwicker
The 2024 Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize is an annual award given to an artist with “the most outstanding depiction of science and technology in a feature film.”

“I am also looking forward to checking out new projects by Sundance legends Steven Soderbergh (Presence, Premieres) and Richard Linklater (God Save Texas, Episodic; Hitman, Spotlight),” says Michael Mejia.
Zwicker is likewise excited that Sundance has artists like Steven Soderbergh bringing their work to the festival. “This is someone who has been so successful for so long, but he continues to take chances. He has a true spirit of innovation and independence in his work and in his new film, Presence…Throughout their careers, there’s always a home for them at Sundance. And I love that about our festival, too.”

“We saw a lot of films about family this year, which I think can be such universal stories,” says Zwicker. “I, personally, am a sucker for a tear-jerker. We found some really lovely, resonant stories about family and growing coming of age—universal themes that filmmakers continually find new ways to express.”
“I’m thinking about films like A Real Pain, Jesse Eisenberg’s film, which is a film about two cousins whose grandmother has recently passed, and they travel to Poland to honor her legacy as a Holocaust survivor, but while also managing their own relationship,” says Zwicker. “It’s funny and it’s emotional, and that’s a film that I found extremely moving.”

“We have a very different kind of film in our Premiere section,” says Zwicker. “I love to see films that are not like anything we’ve seen.” Thelma—a film about a woman who is “duped by a phone scammer pretending to be her grandson” and takes matters into her own hands to get retribution—stars an actress named June Squibb, a long-running character actress, but, says Zwicker, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her highlighted in a lead role. She’s 93 years old. Thelma is a family film, too, but also a thriller and also funny. It’s kind of a film that I think that everybody can enjoy, but it’s definitely not a story I had seen before”

Family-oriented films are certainly having a moment at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. “I am excited to see In The Summers (U.S. Dramatic Competition), a coming-of-age film about two siblings and their annual visits with their loving, yet volatile, father,” says Winston. “It stars Lío Mehiel and Sasha Calle. I last saw Sasha as Supergirl in The Flash movie. While her Supergirl standalone film seems unlikely, I’m happy to see her career progressing. Last year at Sundance, I saw Lio in Mutt, and their performance completely blew me away.” You can see Jaime Winston’s review of Mutt here.

“Speaking of ‘super’ people, Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story, which features unseen footage and personal archives of the legendary actor, has captured my attention,” says Winston.
Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story is the Salt Lake Opening Night Film. The documentary premieres on January 19 at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center. The documentary shows never-before-seen home movies and personal archives, which reveal how Christopher Reeve went from an unknown actor to an iconic movie star as the ultimate screen superhero, and how he learned the true meaning of heroism as an activist after suffering a tragic accident that left him quadriplegic and dependent on a ventilator to breathe.
“I think biographical docs in the last few years have really been having a moment,” says Zwicker. “And this one is what I think is the best of what a biographical doc can be because it’s made with love and honesty. You really understand what made this man so special,” she says. “And you understand that through the people who loved him telling truthful stories about who he was and his impact on their lives. It is a movie that had me just crying buckets.”

Several other documentaries, falling into a few notable themes and trends, have caught our attention as well.
“I’m particularly excited by the array of music docs,” says Michael Mejia. “From an exploration of the use of rap lyrics as evidence in American courts (As We Speak, U.S. Documentary) to a NEXT doc on the Irish-language rap group Kneecap (Kneecap), looks at DEVO in Premieres (DEVO) and Brian Eno in New Frontiers (Eno), and Johan Grimonprez’s Soundtrack to a Coup d’État, picking through the CIA’s deployment of jazz artists to distract from its undermining of the independence movement in the Congo in 1960.”
“We also have a biographical doc about Luther Vandross, which is a really thoughtful study of him as an and through his art,” says Zwicker about Luther: Never Too Much (Premieres). “You kind of learn more about him as a person, which I think is a really smart and caring approach.”

“I’m eager to check out the entries from Latin America, including U.S. and World docs on Frida Kahlo (Frida), Argentinian gauchos (Gaucho Gaucho), and social justice in Colombia (Igualada), and features from Brazil (Malu), Peru (Reinas), and Mexico (Sujo),” says Meijia.

“The Japanese film Black Box Diaries (World Cinema Documentary Competition), about a journalist investigating a high-profile offender in her own sexual assault, sounds interesting as well,” says Jaime Winston.

Continuing with the documentaries that have us excited, is a documentary about Will Ferrell and his longtime friendship with a writer who he’d collaborated with many times, who transitioned, called Will & Harper. “It’s about their friendship through Harper’s transition, and it’s funny, too, because it’s Will Ferrell, of course, but super emotional,” says Zwicker.

“We have some terrific first features,” says Zwicker of this year’s lineup, which has a showing of films that broach the nuances and complexities of gender, identity and sexuality. “Girls Will Be Girls is an amazing Indian film in our World Competition that deals with coming-of-age female empowerment, female sexuality from a different cultural lens.
“It’s so lovely to see experiences that we know from our own lives told in a different cultural perspective,” says Zwicker. “it’s the kind of thing that makes you excited about world cinema. This sort of shared experience in storytelling. I see a lot of different voices around the world getting their first moment to get this spotlight. And that’s what I feel like our festival is for.”
This year’s Midnight selection, which features horror, thrillers and genre-defying works has a few standouts for us. “Last year, the horror film Talk to Me made me nervous driving home so late following the screening,” says Jaime Winston. “I can foresee a similar experience after watching The Moogai (Midnight), which is about a mother defending her baby from a sinister spirit.” Read the Talk to Me review here.
Zwicker admits she’s particularly adept and giving people Sundance film screening recommendations based on which Sundance films they’ve enjoyed in the past. We decided to put it to the test. One of our favorite Sundance films in recent years was Cha Cha Real Smooth, the 2022 Sundance Film Festival U.S. Dramatic Competition Audience Award winner. Cha Cha Real Smooth is a sharp, offbeat but heartfelt dramedy about relationships and growing up, centered around a floundering 20-something who works the bar mitzvah party circuit, that made Salt Lake magazine’s list of festival highlights that year as well. What 2024 film would Zwicker recommend based on that?
“Let’s see, something charming…I’m going to say there’s a film in our Premiere section called The American Society of Magical Negroes,” she says. “It is part fantasy. It is part rom.com. It is totally inventive. And it’s this conception of the magical Negro trope that appears in many sorts of old films…and this film totally flips that dated convention on its head. It’s really funny, but it’s also sweet. If you’re a fan of Real Smooth, that would be my recommendation.”
There you have it. For more on this year’s lineup, check out Salt Lake magazine’s overview of the 2024 Sundance film programming. For tickets and more information about individual film screening locations and schedules, visit festival.sundance.org.
It’s 50 degrees at the end of February and a light dust of snow drifts down from the churning grey-and-white sky. I begin the ascent to Cassidy Arch, clambering up the switch-backed trail out of Capitol Reef’s Grand Wash. I’m rewarded with the grand view of sandstone and snow all to myself.
Snow-filled tracks on the trail are evidence that other hardy souls are somewhere ahead, but for now, it’s just me on a trail of quiet and solitude. The slick rock is appropriately slick under the new snow, making my hike across the red-rock plateau above Cassidy Arch less hike, more scramble, but the slipping and sliding lend a comical exuberance to my exertions, which are blessedly unobserved—like a clown falling in the woods with no one else to see.
This is day four of a seven-day wintertime road trip through Utah’s five national parks and on every excursion, in every park, I am essentially by myself, only occasionally passing others on the trail, mostly foreign travelers who were somehow whispered the secret: Southern Utah’s mild winters make it the perfect time to tour the Mighty Five—Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks.
The global popularity of these parks has created a dependable summertime mob. At least once a summer, Arches National Park makes the news as crowds clamoring to get a glimpse of Delicate Arch shut down Utah Highway 191, just outside park gates near Moab. Even on the least busy warm-season days, the lines of cars cruising popular sections of each park fulfill Edward Abbey’s 1960s prescient lines from Desert Solitaire predicting the “serpentine streams of baroque automobiles pouring in and out, all through spring and summer, in numbers that would have seemed fantastic when I worked there…the ‘visitation,’ as they call it, mounts ever upward.”
Is this the great outdoors? Or a parking lot? Plus, it’s hot in all but the highest elevations, with temperatures hovering around 100 degrees for most of the summer season. But in February? The parks are yours. Open roads and open trails, comfortably cool daytime temperatures and blessed quiet offer a rare solitary view of the overly viewed vistas. Of course, there are some hurdles to wintertime adventures, like weather. Yes. I encountered rain and snow in all the parks, but apart from one blizzard in Bryce Canyon (the highest-elevation park at 8,000 to 9,000 feet on the rim), it was manageable with sensible clothing layers and an adventurous heart. Meanwhile, the moody weather’s layers of cloud, snow and sky invited rare reflection. The second obstacle to traveling in Southern Utah is a dearth of lodging and restaurants, a downside to solitude. But amid seasonal closures, I found a pleasant selection of year-round places to stay in each of the communities near the park areas and some surprisingly good eats along the way.

Home to some of the most stunning vistas in the national park system, Bryce is known for its abundant hoodoos. Rising out of the canyon floor like stalagmites, some are diminutive while others reach as high as 10-story buildings. The optimistically named Bryce Canyon City borders the park boundary. It is home to Ruby’s Inn, founded by Reuben C. Syrett, an intrepid pioneer who settled in the area in 1916 to ranch. When the park (first a national monument) was founded in the ’20s, Reuben, or Ruby, was poised to capitalize on the influx of visitors that continues to grow each year.
Fairyland Loop
Distance: 8 miles
This hike down into Bryce Canyon offers the park’s most spectacular display of its hoodoos. It’s also a good workout. You’ll hike down and back out of the canyon through the magical Fairyland, a maze-like trail at the base of the towering hoodoos. Tip: Do this loop clockwise, and get the least-charming canyon rim section out of the way first instead of at the end of the long hike.
Foster’s Family Steak House
This wooden-walled diner is one of the few year-round dining spots outside of the Ruby’s Inn enclave and it’s worth the short drive. Outside the kale-and-quinoa zone, expect the wilted salad bar (with “both” kinds of dressing, ranch and Thousand Island). But it’s hearty meat-and-potatoes fare, with simply prepared steaks and meatloaf and pies baked each day. 1150 Highway 12, Bryce City, fostersmotel.com, 435-834-5227
Ruby’s Inn
Ruby’s Inn is pretty much all you’ve got for lodging—even the park’s rustic lodge is closed. The hotelier has two lodges on either side of the main drag and is home to one of the only liquor stores in the area. The rooms are clean and situated nicely at the edge of the park boundary. It owns much of the land adjacent to the park and offers a slew of wintertime activities on its property. 26 S. Main Street, Bryce Canyon, rubysinn.com, 435-834-5341
Overcrowding in peak season made Zion National Park the first in-Utah park to move to a mandatory shuttle system. But in February the roads are empty and its two most popular hikes, The Narrows and Angel’s Landing, are blissfully free of the human traffic jams and bottlenecks endemic to the summer season. Zion is Utah’s lowest park in both elevation and latitude, so its weather tends to be fair year-round. You can expect rain but rarely snow. You’ll encounter cool temperatures, especially in sunless canyon bottoms like The Narrows. Springdale, located just below the park entrance, is for the most part open for business in the winter season, but restaurants and stores often limit their hours. The Cable Mountain Lodge has a helpful “what’s open” guide.

Angel’s Landing — Distance: 5.4 miles
This is a pre-lawyer hiking trail. It’s a butt-kicking climb to the very top of Zion Canyon, famously completed by a “chain route”—where the vertiginously narrow trail offers chain handholds as you crawl up tummy-turning sections with sheer drop-offs. Yes, people have fallen. No, they did not survive. Yet the trail remains open, perhaps because the payoff is so spectacular—a perch on Angel’s Landing with stunning views in every direction and a sense of fear-facing accomplishment. Do not do this hike in less-than clement weather.
The Narrows—Distance: 9.4 miles
The Narrows is a scramble up the Virgin River. You splash over and around river-rock bowling balls as towering rock walls close together as you ascend the canyon. In the summertime, people tackle The Narrows in sandals and shorts, but in February you’ll need some gear. Rent a dry suit from Zion Outfitters (zionoutfitter.com). The thick, rubbery suits keep the water out and you warm and dry inside. And although you’ll look like you belong on a Star Trek landing party, you’ll feel invincible wading through the chest-deep water near the top. The kit also comes with extra-grip water shoes and a giant wooden pole that makes your scrambling easier. The hike terminates at the backcountry boundary (permit required). And although you’re not hiking uphill, all the wading and clambering is tiring, so remember you’ll have to return the way you came. Consider turning back before you’re all gassed out.
Whiptail Grill
Whiptail Grill is a cute cantina in a converted gas station, serving creative takes on Mexican cuisine. 445 Zion Park Blvd., Springdale, whiptailgrillzion.com, 435-772-0283
Cable Mountain Lodge
Located right at the mouth of Zion Canyon, Cable Mountain Lodge is practically in the park. The lodge has standard hotel rooms as well as family-sized suites with kitchens and plenty of space. Bonus: The hot tub is open year-round. 147 Zion Park Blvd., Springdale, cablemountainlodge.com, 435-772-3366
While wintertime in Southern Utah is much, much tamer than you imagine weatherwise (you’re not summiting Everest, you’re going on well-traveled hikes in national parks) you’ll still need to deal with cooler and widely fluctuating temperatures as well as intermittent rain and snow. The Boy Scouts have it right: Be prepared.

Your light trail hikers won’t cut it. You’ll want a breathable, waterproof boot with a sturdy, super-grippy Vibram sole.
Kaha 2 GTX Hiking Boot – Men’s, $239.95, backcountry.com
These are basically “chains” for your boots that will help you on snowy trails and dangle nicely from your day pack if conditions are mellow.
YakTrax Summit Traction Device, $99.99, yaktrax.com


Clawing your way up snowy and, at times, icy trails and across wet slick rock (which unlike dry slick rock is genuinely slick) can be tricky. Some nice sturdy, collapsible poles with a rubber tip will give you an extra place to put weight down while on slippery descents.
Kelty Scree Trekking Poles, $69.95, backcountry.com
You’ll want a nice breathable outer layer for your top and bottom that will repel water and let your perspiration out when you’re climbing.
Backcountry Runoff 2.5L Rain Parka – Women’s, $129.35 – $199
POC Motion Rain Pant – Men’s, $179.95, backcountry.com


Wicking fabrics are a must; they’ll keep the moisture away from your skin as you sweat. After you stop moving you’ll cool down quickly and want to keep yourself as dry as possible.
Backcountry Spruces Mid-Weight Merino Women’s Baselayers, 1/4-Zip Printed Top, $79.80 – $114.00, Printed Bottom, $76.30 – $109.00, backcountry.com
You’ll need a waterproof (or at least resistant) pack with enough room to stash all your layers as conditions change. Size matters: Make sure you’ve got room for snacks, water, a beanie, gloves, an extra-mid layer and room to stash your outer layer if things heat up. Hiking in cold weather is about staying dry, so don’t be a hero. If you’re sweating a bunch, stop and peel a layer or two.
REI Co-op Trail 25 Pack – Women’s, $79.95, rei.com

Too often touristas clomp around on packed-snow trails in snowshoes which are more of a hazard than a benefit. You will only need them if you are venturing well into the backcountry and off, off-trail in very snowy conditions. Basically, if you don’t know how to use snowshoes you probably aren’t going to be in a situation where you’d have to know—make sense?
Sept. 26, 2023 at The Westerner
Photos by Miguel Mendoza
More than 650 bartenders from Utah attended the 6th Annual Bartender Recharge. In addition to giving back to bartenders, the event also raised more than $5,500 for the Folds of Honor Scholarship Fund. This popular yearly event is the brainchild of Casey Metzger of Top Shelf and Seth Hill of The Downstairs and is made possible by generous sponsors.
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Sept. 25, 2023 at Children’s Mental Health Campus, West Valley City
Photos by Anthony Oliver, Love Communications
The Children’s Center Utah hosted a ribbon-cutting ceremony to commemorate the grand opening of its new children’s mental health campus at 3725 W. 4100 South in West Valley City. This milestone marks the completion of the multi-million dollar project aimed at providing comprehensive mental health support. The new campus showcases the successful collaboration between public and private partners, highlighting the importance of investments in early childhood mental health. Founded in 1962, The Children’s Center Utah provides comprehensive mental health care to enhance the emotional well-being of infants, toddlers, preschoolers and their families. For more information, visit childrenscenterutah.org.
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Sept. 2023 at Flanker Kitchen + Sporting Club
Photo by Katie Eldridge
In September, The University of Utah’s 2008 undefeated Sugar Bowl team was inducted into the Utah Sports Hall of Fame. The induction was celebrated with an after-party at Flanker Kitchen + Sporting Club, at The Gateway in downtown Salt Lake City. It had been 15 years since a lot of the teammates had seen each other making for a fun party. Utah Sports Hall of Famers Sealver Siliga, Robert Johnson, Matt Asiata, Sean Smith, Koa Misi, Stevenson Sylvester, John Peel and Derrick Shelby were all in attendance.
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Party for Clean Power
Sept. 28, 2023 at Mid-Valley Performing Arts Center, Taylorsville
Photos by Kristan Jacobsen
Utah Clean Energy, Utah’s leading climate change advocacy organization, presented Utah’s premier climate solutions event, the annual Party for Clean Power, on Sept. 28, 2023. The event brought together more than 350 local leaders to catalyze new ideas, inspire action and celebrate progress in the fight against climate change. Utah Clean Energy is a public interest organization working to turn the tide on climate change by expanding renewable energy, energy efficiency, storage, and clean vehicles.
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Sept. 13-14 at Tracy Aviary
Photos by Austen Diamond
Eat Drink SLC celebrated Salt Lake’s culinary and libation world for two nights in September. Net proceeds benefited three nonprofits: Tracy Aviary, SB Dance and Women of the World, a community organization that empowers immigrant, asylum-seeking women and their families. Since its inception, Eat Drink SLC has raised more than $100,000 for worthy nonprofits.
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Sept. 2, 2023 at Promontory Club, Park City
Park City’s Promontory Club celebrated the debut of its third golf course, The Hills, on Sept. 2, 2023. Approximately 500 members and influencers turned out for the festivities, which included golf cart tours of the course, a putting competition and culinary delights from Sage, the modern Italian dining concept that will be located in the new clubhouse dedicated to the course.
The Hills, conceived by golf course architect Forrest Richardson and design partner Jeff Danner, is an 18-hole course with all par-3 holes. Along with the new course, clubhouse and Sage, there will be four indoor golf simulator bays with state-of-the-art Trackman technology. Cascade Green, Promontory’s 18-hole putting course, was inspired by the famous Himalayas at St. Andrew. It is complemented by The GAP, a full practice facility and on-range Golf Academy, complete with multiple hitting bays and a state-of-the-art TaylorMade Fitting Center.
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