January 17

The voice on the other end of the phone growls "I own your ass". Eamon Bowles of The Shooting Gallery has just bought the North American distribution rights to I Went Down. It's the first deal at Sundance and we've made it into daily Variety. The cover of weekly Variety reads "Snow Business at Sundance" - we're the only exception.

The screening is sold out. I arrive a little late and am ushered into the theatre to introduce the film. Geoff Gilmore, the director of the festival, gives the film a big build-up. I cringe a bit. I'm suspicious about building a film up too much before the audience can make up their own minds. I can't remember what I say, but somewhere along the way I get a good laugh and a round of applause. More to live up to. All of The Shooting Gallery crew have turned up to see what they've spent their money on.

It's Eamon Bowles's first chance to see how the film plays with an American audience. I think they like it, but it's hard to tell yet. As the end of the first reel approaches the laughs start coming. They are spontaneous, not tentative, awkward laughs. They like it, but I can't relax so I decide to leave. The second reel begins just as I'm walking out the door. It's upside down and back to front. The audience starts to shout and jeer. Rob (Rob Walpole, producer) runs into the projection booth. I stop to compose myself. If I blow the head I'll only freak out the projectionist. He's not even aware of the problem until Rob draws his attention to it. "Do you want me to let it play?" he asks. Rob gives him a look as if to say "If you don't sort it out in the next few minutes what I'll want is to give you a furt in the hole" (as a Wexford friend would say).

It stops. The lights go on. The festival staff is running around. There is nothing for us to do but wait and see if he can fix it before the audience gets restless and leaves. Rod Stoneman of the Irish Film Board offers his assistance. He's been a big supporter of the film and is always eager to help, but there are already too many people in the projection booth. Eamon looks worried. Buzz is everything with an independent film. The delay might mean this influential audience will buzz off.

I stand in the lobby. On the inside I'm rehearsing a kung-fu opera, on the outside I'm pretending to be the Dalai Lama on sedatives. A very tall man approaches. I look up as he tells me he likes the film so far. "Is it compulsory in Ireland to read Finnegans Wake," he asks. A woman asks me what exactly does the name Siobhan mean. When someone else asks what I think the chances of everlasting peace in Ireland are, I decide to beat a hasty retreat. "Well, you know yourself...ehm, excuse me a sec, I just want to see how the disaster is getting on". No one has made an announcement, and the natives are getting restless after a half-hour delay.

I go to the front and tell them I have to do a diary for The Irish Times and would they mind posing for a photo? They're a warm audience and they oblige; all 600 wave for the photo. The tension is broken and we buy ourselves a few minutes. Peter (Peter McDonald, lead actor) is surrounded by admirers. Agents and business managers offer him their cards. It looks to me like half the audience has now left, but when they announce the imminent resumption of the film everybody returns from the bar. One minute in and there's a big laugh. We go for a drink. An agent called Michael Foster asks me if I want to meet Renee Zellweger. I thought she was great in Jerry Maguire but I'm too wired and decline the invitation. When we return to the theatre it's too late to do a Q&A. It robs us of a chance to get a good indication of the audience's reaction. I think they like it, but I won't be satisfied until every one of them pats us on the back and tells us that we're great fellas.

January 18th

We still haven't had much feedback on the film. It's very cold and I'm dehydrated. I feel a cold sore developing on my lip. To get the medicine I use in America I need a prescription. The doctor's name is Winnie. He has a pooh bear embroidered on his coat. I feel better when he tells me he was at the screening and loved the film. I feel worse when he charges me $80 dollars to write out a prescription for something I can buy over the counter in Ireland. The medicine costs another $70 dollars. I could have couriered it over for less. I feel a bit of an eejit as I walk back to the condominium. Rob rings from a party in the Riverhorse Cafe. He's met Eamon, who's very happy with the word of mouth about IWD. Rob seems very upbeat. Lots of people have approached him about the film. I come out of hibernation and go to the party.

January 20th

We meet several studio execs and production companies with a view to partnering us in developing a number of films. They all seem very positive even though we're talking about a considerable amount of money. Everyone asks us about the projection problem. Some other screenings have been cancelled because of an avalanche. Nick Broomfield's documentary on Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love has been pulled after a threat of legal action. There are rumours of an illicit midnight screening. Our own problems are put into perspective. We do a Q&A after our second screening. Glenn Close asks a question. I don't recognise her and only find out later that she was there. She was very positive about the film, and particularly about Peter McDonald's performance.

January 21st: Los Angeles

As we wait for our bags at there is an announcement for a Mr Randy Katz. I hope he doesn't keep his neighbours awake at night. First laugh, and we're only here two minutes. Our bags come out first and Donovan, the limo driver sent by our agent at ICM, is waiting. It turns out he's a producer too and he's going into production on his first feature next month. It's a $12 million action movie. He has all the lingo. It might even be true. "This town is infectionous (sic)," he proclaims, " it will turn you into a heathen!" Now I know why Randy Katz is in town.

Peter has taken a different flight. There has been a mistake with the hotel reservations and his bags have gone missing as well. It's bizarre; no hotel, no bags, no American agent and yet by the time we meet him he has already done an audition with the director of a hit film. The word is out. Rob and I have been sent some scripts to read by my agent Patti Detroit. We sit in the warm California sun outside a cafe to do our homework for a round of meetings the next day. A man in tight-fitting white shorts jogs by. He has a woolly hat with a bobble on. His mobile rings and he jogs on the spot as he takes the call. " Guess what? Paramount have just bought my script. I'm gonna be directing a $12 million dollar movie. Just goes to show anything can happen in Hollywood!" Peter pitches us an idea for a romantic comedy. We're very excited. Some of the scripts we've been given are good but our own ideas are more compelling. I imagine the three of us jogging around in woolly bobble hats and tight shorts pitching romantic comedies. Not a pretty sight.

January 23rd

I Went Down opens in the UK today. It's a notoriously difficult market. All of the other distributors will take their lead from the film's performance in the UK. Rob has just been faxed the reviews from the British press. I'm on the toilet. He reads them to me through the door. The Guardian, The Independent, The Express, The Daily Mirror, The Daily Telegraph and of course the Halifax Chronicle are all very positive. Alexander Walker of the London Evening Standard is the only one to give us a dig. He feels the Irish Film Board and the BBC have wasted their money on the film. He says it won't travel. It has already sold to 27 countries and the Irish Film Board and the BBC are well on the way to getting their investment back. Getting a bad review from Alexander Walker is a badge of honour. Ten months ago I would have lost some sleep. Now I don't care. The film has sold, the reviews have been great and it's getting the life it deserves. The job is done. I can wash my hands of it now. I leave the toilet.