This year's Sundance Film Festival offered plenty of intrigue to uncover and discover. When the program was first announced in early December, the American documentary Holy Hell — about a young man joining a cult in West Hollywood, only to secretly film the group's doings for 20+ years — had one glaring omission. It left off the name of the actual credited film director, leaving much to the imagination regarding who was the culprit (or the savior) who broke and exposed the cult. (It was later revealed the director was Will Allen, who left the cult at age 44 to document his time inside.)

"Hell Week" was a term brought up more than once in the Nick Jonas fraternity drama Goat (more on that in a bit). That term could also describe the Sundance experience, given the limited amount of sleep, food, and exercise. It seems like you're always catching a bus or making a meeting. Time becomes your biggest enemy in covering Sundance (I managed to catch 26 films this year) without losing your mind. Yes, the tradition is rich and it's always unforgettable to attend, but even with all the note taking, research, discussing pivotal plot points or story structures with fellow critics, distributors, roommates, and folks in line after line after line, your memories of what you've actually seen can be blurry.

Such is the Sundance Film Festival, a year in which 30+ films were sold to distributors as fast as those Powerball tickets when it reached $1.6 billion dollars a few weeks ago. Every film bought for U.S. distribution gets a lucky golden ticket to possibly become a major hit in theaters — or in the case of many films this year, bought by streaming services such as newly minted players Amazon Studios and Netflix, with many of these streaming distributors still looking to team up with theatrical partners. Alternately, a film's hype can become undone — with every intention of going on to make millions, only to be released into the masses and turning up D.O.A. as far as box office receipts are concerned. Case in point: last year's Sundance so-called darling Me, Earl and the Dying Girl, underperforming for Fox Searchlight, who scooped up the rights for $12 million only to watch it sink at the box office.

The best film I saw at the festival this year has not found U.S. distribution — and frankly, it probably will not, and that might be a good thing. It was featured in the NEXT section of films, defined by the Sundance catalog as "pure bold works distinguished by an innovative, forward-thinking approach to storytelling." One cannot prepare for the uneasy and powerful viewing experience of writer/director the third feature from writer/director Tim Sutton (Pavilion, Memphis): Dark Night, a story about six millennials living in Sarasota, Fla., following them for 24 hours that lead up to a horrific end. It's told at a relaxed if unnerving pace, and never have Google Maps been so frightening and memorable.

Sutton's film was inspired by the 2012 Aurora, Colo. theater shooting at a midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises, and it surely will not be for everyone. Sutton's film is a powerful mediation on dreamers looking to connect; it's a remarkable piece of American independent film and still has me rattled, days later. As I was told by one unnamed distributor on the chances of Dark Night being picked up for U.S. distribution, "Showing Dark Night in a theater is the equivalent of showing United 93 on an airplane." This may not be a ringing endorsement, although Dark Night deserves to be seen in theaters, more than ever. Sutton's masterful vision of the 21st century American teenage milieu grabs you by the throat and never lets go.

From the moment writer/director/producer/star Nate Parker (The Great Debaters, Red Tails, Non-Stop) took the stage to introduce his feature film debut, The Birth of a Nation, he had not only everyone in attendance, but the entire Sundance festival, in the palm of his hand. Parker tells the story of Nat Turner, a former slave in Virginia who lead a violent rebellion against white landowners in 1831; it's a riveting account told mostly through Turner's eyes. Parker's talents are evident on screen, in his heroic and gifted performance as Turner, although his screenplay falls short of bringing the entire narrative into focus until late in the film. His direction is polished and assured, and its hard to believe this is his first feature.

Parker's labor of love, seven years in the making, paid off, in landing the biggest deal in Sundance — or any film festival's — history: a whopping $17.5 million deal with Fox Searchlight. The film will make its way into U.S. theaters by the end of 2016, in time for the 2017 Oscar talk to start heating up.

Only two days earlier, the first film at Sundance to get anointed as a major player in the 2017 Oscars — only 389 days away — was the accomplished third feature from writer/director Kenneth Lonergan (You Can Count On Me, Margaret). Manchester by the Sea is a meditation on loss, forgiveness, and opening old wounds. In a career-best performance, Casey Affleck plays Lee Chandler, who returns back to the eponymous town in Massachusetts when his older brother dies. He unexpectedly becomes the legal guardian for his 16-year-old nephew Patrick (a star-making turn by newcomer Lucas Hedges). On his arrival, Lee sees his estranged wife Randi (another standout performance, by Michelle Williams) and unburied secrets come to the forefront regarding why Lee abandoned his family and retreated to Boston to work as a handyman.

Lonergan's script is a jewel; he remains one of the most gifted American writers working in film and theater today, laying the foundation of the first hour through a series of brilliantly constructed and cleverly placed flashbacks, increasing the story's tension up to its final scenes. Lonergan pulls no punches in tackling heavy emotional issues, along with providing plenty of laughs. His prose is also brought to life with cinematographer Jody Lee Lipes's handsome view of the New England coastal town, making Manchester a rewarding if difficult family reunion to endure. Amazon Studios snapped up streaming rights for $10 million, and are still seeking a U.S. theatrical partner to bring Manchester to theaters this fall.

One of the most romantic films to hit Sundance was the fourth feature from So Yong Kim (In Between Days, Treeless Mountain). Lovesong stars Riley Keough and Jena Malone. Sarah (Keough) receives a visit from an old college friend Mindy (Malone); when the two go on a road trip together, with Sarah's young daughter in tow, an undeniable romance begins to percolate after a night of drinking and flirtatious conversations. The next morning, Mindy buys a bus ticket, avoiding any exchanges about the intimacy shared between them the previous night. The film jumps ahead three years, as this time Sarah is off to visit Mindy — but at Mindy's wedding.

Kim's mise-en-scene throughout is one of the unexpected joys of Lovesong, making great use of various locations from the openness of Mindy's wedding to closed confinements of those dreaded long-distance car rides, underlining the themes of characters having too much space or not enough. Malone brings plenty of energy and mystery to Mindy's passion and uncertainty, but this is Keough's film. (Why is she not an A-list actress these days?) Keough gives an astonishing, nuanced depiction of heartbreak and sorrow, with Sarah haphazardly navigating towards a satisfying love.

Other terrific performances in the festival came from unexpected places. Among them: Ben Schnetzer and pop star Nick Jonas playing brothers in director Andrew Neel's well-executed, if disappointing, Goat, based on the 2004 memoir by Brad Land. After being assaulted, Brad (Schnetzer) has been wondering what to do or where to go next; he becomes detached from everyone. Seeing an opportunity to be with his older brother Brett (Jonas), he decides to pledge the same fraternity as Brett. What begins as a rite of passage slowly unravels into brutal hazing, leading to torture and a violent depiction of what's known as "Hell Week."

Goat is expertly made, including cinematographer Ethan Palmer's crisp work; what's disappointing is the subject matter, which we know all too well: the horror stories about what takes place during fraternity hazing season. This is, or should not be, news to anyone. Yes, we know it's horrible, and students have died and been hospitalized from hazing pranks gone awry. When Land's memoir came out in 2004, this was a hot-button topic around colleges and remains so today, but the film feels dated, as does the story. Still, Schnetzer and Jonas give strong performances, and there's a hilarious cameo by producer James Franco as a former fraternity bro who still can't let go of his former wild college days. Franco's scene provides much-needed comic relief in an otherwise grim and violent survival-of-the-fittest saga.

In my next post, I'll write about music films Sing Street, Sonita, Eat That Question: Frank Zappa in His Own Words, and We Are X — and I'll list my top ten favorite films I saw at the festival.

Jim Brunzell III is the director of the Sound Unseen Music/Film/Festival and the program director of the Austin Gay & Lesbian International Film Festival (aGLIFF). He currently resides in Austin, Texas. He can be reached at jim@soundunseen.com and you can follow him on Twitter @JimBrunzell_3.