For Celebs Seeking Swag, It's in the Bag

PARK CITY, Utah -- The Sundance Film Festival draws to a close today, and what a feasty fest it's been. There were Uggs and Koobas and Motos and Levis, which sound a lot like the directors of those earnest films entered into the World Cinema Competition, but thank you, no, we're not talking about a bittersweet coming-of-age drama in Farsi just now. That is yesterday's news. We're talking about the parallel universe known as Swagdance.

Oh, there were bags and bags of beautiful swag, swaddled in branded bundles down on snowy Main Street, clutched by twiggy publicists/sherpas trailing their B-listers and first-timers as they trudged under the wide loads from the Marquee Hospitality Suite to the VW Lounge to the HP House to the Village at the Lift, where they entered (with appropriate color coded Guest Identification passes around their necks) through the portals of the Valhalla of Swag known as "Fred Segal." The L'Oreal? Ladies, they were ladling it on with . . . trowels. My lord, the Kiehl's? Its Abyssine Cream with the Advanced, Restorative Formula with Survival Molecules and Soy Protein? Vats.

There was enough product to moisturize a small dry nation.

Swagdance was like Christmas in January, except it was the most wonderful Christmas ever, because it didn't go on your American Express card. It was all free, just as the original disciples probably imagined. Remember that Christmas when you were 6 years old, and you only got, and didn't have to give? Well, Swagdance is like that, except the children look a lot like Tommy Lee and Shannon Elizabeth, and the toys are Oakley Thump 2 MP3 player sunglasses and Nintendo DS players loaded with Metroid Prime Hunters. Perhaps we should explain. The word swag, as you probably know, is Scandinavian in origin and slang for "plunder" or "loot." The word was adopted to describe the giveaways by corporations (and rock bands) to increase the visibility and desirability of their brands. In olden days, say around 1998, swag was usually worthless trinkets. A tacky T-shirt, perhaps, but not a 100 percent combed cotton long-sleeve black number (mmm, it's so soft).

Now the manufacturers of luxury goods have seized upon celebrity culture to shower highly visible trendsetters (like billboards, only thinner) with their products. The celebrities are drawn to the swag and the media are drawn to the celebrities being drawn to the swag -- and so the "product" is "placed."

In your mind.

Isn't that Dennis Hopper at the BlackBerry Lounge and Steve Carell at the Philips House at Sundance? They both appeared on a segment that aired last week on Jay Leno. Instead of paying for a 30-second advertising spot, BlackBerry and Philips paid for swag. Ka-ching, baby.

But for some, is it all too much?

Jonathan Bing in his column in the Hollywood trade publication Variety, headlined "Sundance choked by swag reflex," writes, "if I were a B celebrity, I might ditch my plane ticket and rent a U-Haul van."

But, really, isn't it just too much stuff? Well, it depends. Is a cocktail party for pets too much?

That might be a question for the people at the Cesar Canine Cuisine Spa, described as "the official Sundance Film Festival retreat for small dogs and their celebrity owners to get pampered and primped for the Sundance premieres, parties and entertainment." All invited guests to "receive a complimentary Puchi dog-bag to carry their four legged friends and an array of luxury doggie gifts valued at $1,500." During the press conference at the beginning of the film festival, Sundance Institute founder and movie star Robert Redford was asked essentially: Bob, re: swag -- parasitic or symbiotic?

"Sometimes it blurred what we are doing," said Redford. "Once the festival achieved a certain level of notoriety, people come with agendas that were not the same as ours." He shrugged. "Once we had built a market, we got an outer tier. So you get parties and celebrities, and that's fine."

Indeed, the Sundance Film Festival itself is up to its earlobes in official sponsors (VW, Hewlett-Packard, Entertainment Weekly and Adobe were the big four "presenting sponsors," and there are another hundred other official "associates" and "providers.") This year, the swag suites were often referred to not as crass commercial tents for upscale carnival barkers, but as "refuge," "retreat" and "recovery zone." As in the VW Celebrity Gift Retreat and the Airborne Lounge (they're herbal supplements), "a private refuge for celebrities and other VIPs."

Imagine: the horror. Of vacationing in a mountain resort. Surrounded by fans. And fawning supplicants. With drivers.

Of course, not just any "refugee" is welcome. The swag huts, located in redecorated storefronts on Main Street or, in the case of the W Hotel, in a $1 million tent erected just for the occasion (excellent sound system, rivers of vodka, those free long-sleeve T-shirts).

They are not hidden. Naturally, they are in plain sight, with considerable signage. Only. You. Cannot. Enter.

To visit swagland, publicists typically arrange an appointment for their clients (like Terrence Howard, Lucy Liu, Rob Lowe or Maggie Gyllenhaal) to come and receive their free stuff. There is a hierarchy, too, in which Paris Hilton would be at the top and the director of a documentary in a foreign language would be toward the bottom. Miss Hilton would get to cart away an HD plasma TV if she wanted. The documentary filmmaker may have to make do with some excellent lip balm. (Serious working journalists, by the way, from mainstream publications are allowed to look, but not take -- much.)

One would think that wealthy celebrities might not scramble for swag, but that is not true. Overheard radio call at the W tent: "I NEED A MEN'S MEDIUM ASAP!" Swag appears irresistible -- and "gifting," as it is called, ubiquitous. No celebrity-driven event in Hollywood -- from the Academy Awards to a fundraiser for abandoned ferrets to the Sundance celebration of independent film -- is complete without a gift bag.

But attention, Kmart shoppers. The gift of swag, like life, is a time-limited offer. Today's up-and-coming star with the All Access Pass to Fred Segal may next year be on the outside looking in -- and maybe that's the real reason why swag is irresistible. You gotta grab while you can.