Sundance--Behind a Cloud : Movies: Budget cuts and Robert Redford’s reduced participation raise questions about the institute’s future.

In a redwood rehearsal hall, at the foot of Mt. Timpanogos, Robert Redford discusses the first 10 years of his Sundance Institute. Carefully, succinctly, in a voice barely audible to the room full of reporters, Redford explains the institute’s commitment to developing new film talent, and the Sundance Film Festival’s goal of showcasing independent work.

“I’m not that big on anniversaries or celebrations of the past,” Redford says, as the snow falls gently outside the window behind him. “I prefer to look forward to the future.”

Redford’s message may be one directed as much to Sundance’s staff and donors as to the outside world. In the past year, the institute has undergone wrenching budget and staff cuts, and a reassessment of the direction in which it was heading. Redford, eager to make the 1990s a more productive decade for his film career, has been forced to rethink his role in Sundance too.

As the prestigious Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah, approached, institute officials had hoped to present all this to donors and the public as part of a happy picture: a nonprofit organization that had finally found its footing and was merrily moving into the future. But the budget cuts remained on everyone’s minds, and rumors surfaced that Redford was cutting back his financial support (he says he isn’t).

Then, on the eve of the festival’s opening Thursday came the crowning blow: a scathing article on Sundance in Premiere magazine, written by Peter Biskind, a former member of the film festival’s advisory board. Biskind purported to detail how the institute had fallen victim to mismanagement, conflicts of interest, staff backbiting and factionalism. Knowing the story was on its way, Sundance officials had already stepped up their public relations efforts, taking issue with the article’s accuracy and labeling it “petty” and “vicious.”

But at this Saturday morning press conference there are only gentle questions for Redford--about the state of independent film, consolidation and foreign ownership of Hollywood studios, the workings of the Sundance lab. When asked about the institute’s finances, Redford gives an upbeat assessment of Sundance’s future.

Later, in an interview inside his Sundance office, Redford wants to put to rest rumors that he is quitting the institute or holding back support. But he acknowledges his desire to extricate himself from the day-to-day operations of the institute he founded and get back to his career. He next plans to star in a Hollywood film that he declines to discuss; and he is directing a feature based on Norman Maclean’s novella “A River Runs Through It.”

How much did running Sundance during the 1980s account for the slowed pace of his film career? “A lot,” he says. “I was so naive. Sundance started as an idea in 1978 that came to fruition in 1981. I had worked on so many films, and I wanted a break. I wanted to take some time to put something back in the ground . . . I underestimated how much of my time it would take to keep it going.”

Redford says he had intended to direct Sundance’s creative side; instead, as the problems inherent in starting up a nonprofit organization mounted, he found himself being drawn more and more into administration.

Redford says he launched the Sundance Institute with two goals in mind. First, he wanted to create diverse programming for the different modes of distribution that were on the horizon--cable, video, satellite and so forth: “There was a need for programming. We were in danger of seeing reruns, rehashes of programming . . . In developing new product we thought we could keep alive diversity in a small way.”

Second, the actor-director wanted “to create an atmosphere where filmmakers could work free of the Hollywood constraints of money and competition.”

So, Sundance was born on Redford’s 5,000 acres nestled in Utah’s Wasatch Mountains. Struggling young filmmakers and writers come to this nirvana each year to work in labs, developing their projects. If they want to produce a film, the institute helps them find funding--either through independent sources or Hollywood studios.

Raising money for Sundance’s film labs was never easy. Because the program focused on development rather than production, donors couldn’t see the fruits of their dollars on the screen. In addition, getting a qualified staff in position at the remote resort was difficult. And Redford says he was disappointed at the quality of film-makers Sundance initially attracted.

But by the mid-1980s, the institute was an idea whose time had come. Hollywood studios, who Redford says originally feared that Sundance would siphon off talent, began accepting the institute as part of the independent film world. And money flowed in a bit more generously as some Sundance projects began to reach the screen.

The institute gave birth to such films as “A Dry White Season” “El Norte,” “The Trip to Bountiful,” “Smooth Talk,” “84 Charlie MoPic,” the current release “Once Around” and the upcoming “Dog Fight.”

Even “Pretty Woman” was born here--though not in the upbeat fairy-tale form that eventually reached the screen. Those successes also helped attract more talented filmmakers.

Sundance began expanding its operations, but by 1990 costs began to dangerously outstrip its growing ambitions. “Success breeds expansion,” says Redford. “It’s like a chain restaurant.”

Redford and his board of trustees last year decided that Sundance had run too far afield of its original mission. They voted to cut the institute’s budget from $2.3 million to $1.7 million, eliminating four staff positions and three performing-arts programs in dance, choreography and musical composition.

At the same time, the board decided to build an endowment to provide a permanent source of funding, rather than having to go out each year to raise an operating budget. Robert Gipson, Redford’s attorney and a member of the board of trustees, said the endowment will probably be built up slowly over time.

In an effort to raise funds, Sundance also started a pricey gift catalogue, and plans to showcase about a dozen Sundance Film Festival movies in other countries. Sundance officials also are exploring the possibility of seeking contributions from commercially successful films that grow out of the program.

“We are trying to find creative ways to build on what we have,” says Sundance executive vice president Gary Beer.

Still, the institute’s problems are not completely behind. Gibson acknowledges that a $1.7-million budget makes operations tight. And the institute has been without an executive director since Suzanne Weil was shifted to the position of artistic director last fall.

Beer, who had been running the for-profit Sundance Resort, was recently brought in temporarily to raise funds. But that move has been shrouded in controversy: a former staff accountant told Premiere that when Beer was an official at the nonprofit Sundance Institute in the mid-1980s, he ran up exorbitant expense accounts.

Gibson defends Beer, saying that any $200 and $300 dinners that he charged to the institute were a valid part of his job, which included fund raising and community relations. Says Beer: “I’ve never done anything I felt was inappropriate.”

Since its inception, Redford has personally contributed more than $2.5 million to the institute, according to Gibson. His donations fluctuate each year, depending on his own finances, but he remains the primary donor. (Redford and his family own the for-profit side of Sundance, which includes a small ski resort, lodge, restaurant and general store. The resort’s profitability from year to year depends on snow conditions, Gibson said.)

“When the institute was created, Redford felt strongly that it should stand on its own,” says Beer. “He didn’t want it to be a personal charity. It’s hard for people to accept that.”