For some reason, though, there's one guy I always forget. I don't know why, considering I've watched, read and enjoyed his work nearly as long as I have theirs, and especially considering how often I've sought his advice over the years regarding what movie I should see tonight. Of course, I'm talking about Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert, who passed away today at the age of 70.
I was nine years old when I chanced upon a little TV show on PBS called "Sneak Previews", in which Ebert and Chicago Tribune film critic Gene Siskel exchanged views about recently-released films. Besides the fact that they openly argued and mocked each other's opinions (which I thought was awesome) and yet somehow managed to stay friends (which I found inspiring), I just loved that these two gigantic film nerds dug movies so much and somehow got paid to do it! Sure, they talked a lot about "plot development" and "believable characters" and stuff like that. I didn't have a clue what any of that meant at the time, even though it sounded cool in a dorky sort of way. Mostly, I was just happy in that pre-internet age to get free peeks at new movies while the "bald guy" and the "fat guy" had it out and awarded thumbs up or down.
In the years that followed, I never missed a show, even as it changed names ("At The Movies", "Siskel & Ebert") and even after Siskel's untimely death in 1999 at the age of 53. New critics rotated in and out opposite Ebert until fellow Sun-Times critic Richard Roeper became the new permanent co-host in 2000. I stopped watching shortly after that, but I always consulted his online reviews before spending good money on a film I had questions about. It didn't matter to me that it was only his opinion. Or that I sometimes disagreed. Or that a majority of people think critics are full of shit anyway. Somehow, he almost always got it right.
I think that's because he cared so deeply about film. I mean, really loved it. Lived it, breathed it. He understood what movies were supposed to do and had an uncanny, intuitive sense of whether a film had succeeded in doing it. And he made me love film, too, turning me into the big, blogging, movie dork who sits, hunched, before you today. His passion for film was irresistible and infectious. Like a kid getting to visit a theater for the first time, he never missed an opening, until thyroid cancer and subsequent surgeries began to seriously screw with his life. When he finally returned to the public spotlight during Ebertfest in 2007, he dismissed concerns over the potential reaction to his post-surgery appearance. "So what?" He quipped. "We spend too much time hiding illness."
Well put. Nobody was going to keep this guy away from what he loved. Nobody.
And apparently, no thing.
Not additional surgeries. Not tissue transplants. Not hip fractures, the loss of his voice, facial disfigurement and subsequent prostheses, nor even the constant specter of cancer and death ever-looming. Against the storm, he continued to write, to produce, to make plans, to prepare for the 15th Annual Roger Ebert Film Festival, right up until his April 2 announcement that he would take a brief "leave of presence" before (naturally) returning to work. Now that's passion and dedication; the kind I aspire to achieve in everything I do.
"I know [death] is coming, and I do not fear it," he wrote in 2010. "Because I believe there is nothing on the other side of death to fear. I hope to be spared as much pain as possible on the approach path. I was perfectly content before I was born, and I think of death as the same state. What I am grateful for is the gift of intelligence, and for life, love, wonder, and laughter. You can't say it wasn't interesting. My lifetime's memories are what I have brought home from the trip."And two days before his death, he blogged: "On this day of reflection I say again, thank you for going on this journey with me. I'll see you at the movies."
Yes you will, Roger.
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