A Rundown of The Sharp End

Last Night was the world premier for the new climbing movie from Sender Films. Boulder played host to the first screening, appropriate given the bulging population of climber-weenies in town. This film, called The Sharp End, is about risking big falls on small gear, or THE fall on no gear. Read: high stakes. Some of the scenes were inspiring, but most of the atmosphere of the night was deeply depressing.
When Micah Dash, one of the featured climbers from the movie, is shown on screen having narrowly escaped with his hide after a serac cut loose above he and his partner, he says "I shoulda stayed at the Boulder Rock Club." The audience echoed with self conscious giggles as most in attendance would MUCH prefer climbing indoors and talking a big game over traveling to Chamonix for a brush with the reaper.
The crowd seemed more moved to clamor for free t-shirts and wristbands during the intermission than to get out and attempt to replicate the feats they saw during the film. Nothing says "I pull down" like a free Prana hoodie. And nothing stops a man from feigning the act of pulling down like an ankle breaking fall onto a micro-stopper. During the pull up contest, everyone in attendance, save a few select, brave souls, decided to stick with the stick clip.
Pull Up Contest!?!?!
There were men in their skivvies vying for chalkbags, and I even came away with tickets to another film screening (though I kept my pantalones on). The madness was contagious!

Lately, my therapist has been asking for me to focus on certain feelings in my body. So?
My eardrums are still ringing from Dean Potter's speech where he managed to say "possibilities" 17 times, yet somehow managing to say nothing at all. My palms are still a little sweaty and my eyes a little wide, given some of the featured footage. How does it feel, given that I'm not currently on The Sharp End? It feels pretty good.

It must have felt good for Chris McNamarra, too, given his aparent ability to fly in a wingsuit and basejump rig. Good, too, for Mikey Patz and 5.14 first ascents on shiny, tiny gear. Not so good for Ammon McNeely, the El Cap Pirate with a broken helmet and bruised brain. Worse still for Cedar Wright and the gang in the Czech Republic. They might still be fueled on beer, but when that wears off, the bruised heels and egos will smart.

And I know one thing. When I go to Rifle this weekend, The Sharp End is going to feel pretty safe. I'll have a half inch bolt at knee height, and I doubt I'm ever going to have to look death in the eye and whimper for a return to the plastic palace of the BRC.