It was a late Sunday afternoon circa 1994. I was inside my house, flipping through the channels on my television, when I stumbled across a show where two men were arguing about something. Uncertain at first, I changed the channel. I then went back to the show and finally saw what these two men were arguing about. It was about a movie. I can’t recall what movie, and I still didn’t know who the two men were – or why they were arguing about a movie.
The weeks had gone by since that day, and I still found myself in front of the screen – watching the local PBS station (KIXE Channel 9) at 4 p.m. The show was called “Siskel & Ebert & the Movies,” or simply just “Siskel & Ebert.” Its two hosts were Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert – both of whom were film critics for the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times, respectfully, but they also had this show.
I found myself intrigued by their discussions about movies, even if I didn’t always agree with them. Being at a young age, there was a time where I loved a lot of films – a lot of bad films and a lot of good ones. At first, I strongly disagreed with Ebert, when he named “Armageddon” the worst movie of 1998. Many years after seeing Michael Bay’s movie at the now-closed Sutter Theater in Yuba City, Calif., and re-watching it over and over again on VHS, I decided to revisit the film as an adult. I finally understood why Ebert truly hated Bay’s film – it’s a cinematic disaster. There are explosions at every turn; people screaming and shouting incessantly; and several cornball, lovey-dovey moments.
Now, I didn’t change my opinion on all movies because Ebert loved or hated them. I still strongly disagree with his one-star review of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet”; his one-and-a-half star review of Joel and Ethan Coen’s “Raising Arizona”; and his two-and-a-half star review of Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master.” I also disagreed with him on his three-and-a-half star review of John Woo’s “Mission: Impossible II”; his three-and-a-half star review of Clint Eastwood’s “J. Edgar”; and his two-star review of Joel Schumacher’s “Batman & Robin” (he was way too kind to that movie). But I respect his opinion on all of those films. He never said he hated or liked a movie without explaining each and every detail as to why his opinion was such.
What Ebert taught me was that it’s OK to love a movie that the majority of moviegoers hated; to hate a movie the majority of moviegoers loved; to like a movie that fellow film critics hated; and to not like a movie fellow film critics praised. Ebert also taught me that it is OK to praise a film that polarized moviegoers and fellow film critics, and to say a movie was “just OK” when everyone else was panning it.
He also taught me an appreciation of cinema on a level that I never thought would be possible. He taught me to look at film as an art form; to analyze everything about the film; and then to come up with an opinion after putting some thought into it. A movie can’t always just be “entertainment”; there are many that have more to discuss, and Ebert was the one who provoked me to dig deeper.
All film genres can be appreciated, even though the average moviegoer may not think so. An adult can appreciate a kids’ movie, and a grown man can appreciate a “chick flick” or a musical. Because of Ebert, I’ve found myself enjoying films like “Hope Springs,” “Love, Actually,” and “The Notebook” – films that I would have never watched if it wasn’t for his recommendation.
I remember going with my mom and dad to see “Shakespeare in Love” at the old Movies 10 in Chico, Calif. It was my mom’s birthday, and she really wanted to see it. I wasn’t sure about seeing it, but I decided to go anyway. Siskel and Ebert both praised the film, but, even then, I still wasn’t sure I’d like it. Once the movie was over, I found myself loving the film and recommending it to my friends. Some gave me very strange looks as to why I went to see a “chick flick” and why I’m recommending it to them.
Ebert also helped me find my appreciation for foreign and independent films, as well as the classics from the early stages of cinema. He helped me discover my love for Martin Scorsese, who is my all-time favorite film director. He is the reason why I wanted to go into film criticism, and why I love having lengthy conversations with people about movies – whether they are good or bad ones.
I remember telling some of my college film professors that I wanted to take over Ebert’s spot one day. As the years progressed, I realized that I never can, and neither can anyone else. Ebert was one of a kind, and there is no one who can replace him – no matter how hard he or she tries.
Without Ebert, I wouldn’t be here talking to you about movies; I don’t think any modern film critic would be where he or she is now without the Pulitzer Prize-winning genius. Even someone like Armond White, who said that Ebert was the one who “destroyed film criticism,” owes the man a debt of gratitude. White may never know it, especially since his ego is gigantic and Ebert also called him a “troll” in a journal entry, but it’s true.
When the news of his passing was announced, I was at my “day job.” I was on my lunch break when my phone notified me that I had a new text message. The message was from CNN’s Breaking News application. It had said that the Chicago Sun-Times had confirmed Ebert’s passing. I was also listening to Tom Sullivan on the radio, and he had announced the news before going to a commercial break. I was shocked and saddened to hear the news, especially since Ebert had announced he was taking a “leave of presence” a few days prior.
It affected me more than I had expected. Updating Facebook with a miniature tribute was a struggle. My hands were trembling, and I actually felt some tears rolling down my eyes. I never knew the man personally, but his writing became a major inspiration for me and what I wanted to do in life.
I can brag about all the celebrities I’ve met and interviewed since writing for Examiner.com; all the concerts I’ve covered for free; and all the movies I’ve seen before the rest of America. But the one thing I have always wanted to do was meet Ebert, just so I could shake his hand and simply say, “Thank you.” I wouldn’t need photographic proof to show my friends – I know he wouldn’t want me to do that. As long as I knew that I had met him and shaken his hand, that memory would be all that I would need.
Rest in peace, Roger Ebert. Thank you for everything. I know you and Gene are enjoying all the movies wherever you are, and I hope you two will save me a seat.
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