A Few Thoughts on Roger Ebert

It took a few minutes for the news of Roger Ebert's passing to sink in. This couldn't be right. Sure, Mr. Ebert had faced a number of severe health problems over the course of the last decade, and he had recently revealed that his cancer had returned. However, when addressing the matter, Roger spoke as if the cancer was nothing more than another obstacle to be overcome. He had successfully beaten one health problem after another, and continued to remain active in the realm of film criticism despite the fact that most men in his position would have called it quits. He had every reason in the world to hang it up and relax, but his love for his profession demanded that he keep writing until he reached the point where he was physically unable to do so. Even as his physical form deteriorated into an unrecognizable version of its former self, he retained his unmistakable voice as a writer.

The realization that I would never again read a new Ebert review was nothing short of alarming. The man is more or less single-handedly responsible for my interest in film criticism. During my teenage years, I would quickly follow each movie I watched with a visit to Ebert's website to read his review. Sure, I read reviews by other critics, but my relationship with Ebert was on a different level. There was something about the deeply personal, candid, unpretentious way that the famed Chicago Sun-Times critic expressed his views which really resonated with me. His work had a conversational quality; a plainspoken sincerity which made him stand apart from the crowd. He marched to the beat of his own drum regardless of where critical consensus drifted, and permitted his emotions to drive his reviews to an extent that few other critics seemed comfortable with. On many occasions, this approach permitted Ebert to develop a reputation as a man ahead of the curve (after all, he was one of the first critics to endorse Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde and Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey - movies which are regarded as classics today but which were hotly debated by critics upon their initial release). At other times, it made him look out of touch (such as when he panned A Clockwork Orange and labeled Godfather II as a disappointment in contrast to its predecessor). Even so, there was never any doubt that he was always delivering his honest opinion, critical trends be damned.

I have to admit that there's a good chance that I love many of the films I love simply because Ebert loved them. Ebert was a great entertainer, and his negative reviews were often delightfully savage (so memorable that Ebert saw fit to compile many of them in collections endearingly titled Your Movie Sucks and I Hated, Hated, Hated This Movie). However, he was at his best when he was praising a movie, which isn't something which can be said of many critics. As Steven Soderbergh recently noted, critics tend to be immensely creative when they're crafting insults but turn dull when they're trying to describe a film's greatness. Not in Ebert's case. When the man was passionate about a movie, his enthusiasm was infectious. On literally hundreds of occasions, I would read a four-star Ebert review and excitedly head to my local video rental store to see if they had that particular title in stock. I'd watch the film, form my own opinion and then go back to re-read the review. I had some of his particularly thought-provoking reviews more or less memorized.

Movies have been an integral part of life, and Mr. Ebert guided me to so many of my most rewarding cinematic experiences. Yes, there were plenty of established classics (2001: A Space Odyssey, Taxi Driver, Vertigo) that I probably would have gotten around to eventually, but there were also countless smaller, more obscure films that Ebert championed with equal gusto: Gates of Heaven. Ikiru. Winter Light. The films of Werner Herzog, Ramin Bahrani and Krzystof Kieslowski. He was such a champion of cinematic underdogs that he even began Roger Ebert's Overlooked Film Festival, devoted to spotlighting recently-released films which he felt hadn't received the level of praise and/or attention they deserved. It was through his accessible, thoughtful reviews that myself and countless others began to explore movies beyond the major studio fare and learn how to regard movies critically. Some have declared that Ebert dumbed down film criticism when he and Gene Siskel introduced the thumbs up/thumbs down system, but anyone who feels that way neglected to hear the words which accompanied the thumbs. More than any other critic, Ebert worked hard to expand the horizons of the average viewer.

Visiting his website each Friday was a weekly highlight, as I would eagerly devour his latest batch of reviews (and would often use them to help determine which two or three movies I would see over the course of the weekend). I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent many Thursday nights hitting the refresh button and impatiently waiting for Mr. Ebert's reliable editor Jim Emerson to upload the week's new reviews. Reading his work gave me a hunger not only to see new films, but to write about them myself. Had I never discovered him, I doubt I would have begun dabbling in the realm of film criticism.

I never had anything resembling a personal relationship with Mr. Ebert. We exchanged e-mails on a few occasions over the years (he was gracious enough to reply to a handful of compliments, complaints and questions I sent his way - and he treated an unknown nobody like myself as if I were one of his peers), but that was the extent of it. Even so, I can't shake the feeling that I've just lost a good friend. I know there are countless others who feel the same way. Over the past few years in particular, Ebert invited his readers into his personal life and took them on a step-by-step journey through his assorted medical battles. Even though his reviews grew increasingly erratic in his final years, he did some of his best writing on his personal blog, where he tackled any subject he felt inspired to tackle: politics, religion, sex, evolution, death, books, travel, movies, food, music, health, etc. It seems appropriate that the title of his memoir is Life Itself, as the man had valuable, thought-provoking things to say about nearly everything. He was a fine film critic, but more importantly, he was a great human being.

There are so many other things I'd like to say, so many other anecdotes about the various ways in which Ebert's work has affected my life - but for now, I'll simply say that I miss him so very much.

In conclusion, a few words from the man himself which are well worth remembering:

"Kindness covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. I didn't always know this and I am happy I lived long enough to find it out."