What does it feel like to resemble the Phantom of the Opera? You learn to live with it. I've never concerned myself overmuch about how I looked. I got a lot of practice at indifference during my years as the Michelin Man.
Yes, years before I acquired my present problems, I was not merely fat, but was universally known as "the fat one," to distinguish me from "the thin one," who was Gene Siskel, who was not all that thin, but try telling that to Gene:
"Spoken like the gifted Haystacks Calhoun tribute artist that you are."
"Haystacks was loved by his fans as a charming country boy," I observed.
"Six hundred and forty pounds of rompin' stompin' charm," Gene said. "Oh, Rog? Are those two-tone suedes, or did you step in some chicken shit?"
The real Phantom: Lon Chaney in 1925
"You can borrow them whenever you wear your white John Travolta disco suit from 'Saturday Night Fever,'" I said.
"Yeah, when are you gonna wear it on the show?" asked Buzz the floor director. "Enquiring minds want to know."
"He wanted to wear it today," I said, "but it's still at the tailor shop having the crotch taken in."
"Ba-ba-ba-boom !" said Buzz.
"Here's an item that will interest you, Roger," Gene told me one day, paging through the Sun-Times, his favorite paper, during a lull in the taping of our show. We taped in CBS Chicago's Studio One, home of the Kennedy-Nixon debate.
"It says here, the Michelin Man has been arrested in a fast food court in Hawaii for attempting to impersonate the Pillsbury Dough Boy."
"Yeah," I said. "I read the paper over breakfast. There was an item in Kup's Column saying your forehead was named as America's biggest zip code."
"Nancy," said Gene to our makeup artist and emergency crisis counselor, "please bring Mr. Ebert a bookmark so he doesn't lose his chin again."
"Oh...my...God!" I said, glancing at a studio monitor. "CNN has just reported that your hairline is receding so rapidly the rising sea level is threatening coastal cities."
"Ba-boom!," Buzz said.
"Siskel & Hardy" (Artist: Ori Hofmekler for Penthouse; collection of Roger and Chaz Ebert)
Yes, I was fat, but I dealt with it by simply never thinking about it. It is useful, when you are fat, to have a lot of other things to think about. If you obsess about fat, it will not make you any thinner, but it will make you miserable. If you try any diet whatsoever you have read about in a magazine or heard about from a celebrity, it will make you even more miserable. I maintained tip-top mental health during all the years of my obesity. When Chaz dragged me kicking and screaming to the Pritikin Longevity Center, I finally found a way to lose weight, and I lost a lot of weight, and enjoyed it. I kicked and screamed all the way toward anything that might do me any good. It is a proud trait of the American male.
I didn't look fat to me. I wore a pullover vest on top of my L. L. Bean Oxford-cloth shirt, and when I glanced down it contained everything in an attractive concavity merging serenely with my khakis, or so I was told. "Phone for you, Rog," Gene said, handing me his cell. "Your shoes are calling."
I favored blue sweater-vests, because whenever I wore brown Gene said, "Buzz, the usual offer of 10 silver dollars to any cameraman who doesn't make Mr. Ebert look like a mudslide."
"Is the offer limited to close-ups?" Buzz said.
"Twenty coins for any cameraman who can not take a close-up of Mr. Ebert."
"Don't worry, Roger," Buzz said. "I'll write a note to management about expanding Studio A so the cameras can pull back a little more."
Autumn 1969: Heaven lay about me in my infancy
"Now you're playing on the same side as Mr. Tact," I complained.
"That's why they call me Mr. Thumb Tact," Gene said.
"I heard you were severely lacerated while trying not to thumbtack a note to your forehead," I said.
"Ka-boom!"
When I wore a green blazer on St. Patrick's Day, Gene congratulated me on my Master's win. For this and other reasons I invariably wore the blue blazer, blue Oxford shirt, blue pullover sweater vest, and khakis. This look was original with me. No other fat man ever thought of it.
This is so much fun I almost forgot my subject today. Oh yes, looking like the Phantom of the Opera. There are a lot of Phantom fans who wouldn't think that was such a terrible thing. Some of them have been waiting in line on the sidewalk outside Her Majesty's Theater in London for more than 30 years. Indeed, that long-running musical was the inspiration for my only published novel, Behind the Phantom's Mask.
"The first book in history," Gene said, "that placed below Amazon's Sales Ranking."
"I tried to carry all Gene's books home from the store," I told Buzz and Nancy, "but it was too much for me."
"Why was that, Roger?" Buzz asked.
"Because there weren't any."
"Ka-boom!"
May 1987 : Notice the bump on my jaw? Doc Schlichter did.
There was, I admit, one day in London where I was cruelly made aware of my fat. I was walking through Sir John Soane's Museum at 13 Lincoln's Inn Fields for maybe the 20th time. This has been called "the most eccentric house in London." It was the home of the great 18th century architect, who bequeathed it to a grateful nation. "Now let them dust the bloody man's collection," Mrs. Soane said.
Sir John had filled every nook and cranny with an accumulation (you couldn't call it a collection) of books, furniture, oils, watercolors, drawings, mirrors, statuary,writing implements, rifles, pistols, brass buttons, coins, swords, rugs, etchings, tapestries, stuffed heads and even the Monk's Tomb, engraved "Alas, poor Fanny!" Here rested Mrs. Soane's beloved lap dog, which could never remember which marble bases it was not to pee on. Those most certainly included the supports for Soane's beloved Egyptian sarcophagus, which was especially hard for the servant girls to clean, because they had to lean a ladder up to it and lower themselves inside to sweep up the dust of pharaohs, and dog hairs.
Sir John's breakfast room: The last hope of mankind
Of Sir John's breakfast room, Ian Nairn wrote: "If man does not blow himself up, he might in the end act at all times and on all levels with the complete understanding of this room." I would stand in a corner and try to understand it. Among its features were concave mirrors at the corners of the ceiling, and outside views in parallel windows, one seemingly transparent, the other seemingly a mirror.
In this house is a wondrous art room which the leaflet boasts contains, I don't know, let's say 80 paintings, including even the original "Rakes' Progress" by Hogarth. This room is occupied by a guard with a peculiarly knowing smile. He is sure you will look again at your leaflet and say, "I don't see 80 paintings."
The guard: "Quite right, sir! A complaint we often hear from visitors." Then he pauses and leans forward a little, as if waiting for you to take the bait, which you do, because almost any conceivable question will be the wrong one. The most obvious would be, "You mean there aren't 80 paintings in this room?"
"There most certainly are, sir!" He could string you along all day, but there would be more visitors waiting to be humiliated. He explains that three walls hang on hinges, and the room actually contains three times as many paintings as are on view.
Faced with this unfolding display one winter afternoon, my eye fell on a handsome 17th century chair, which had a little card behind it on the wall, saying (as no museum chair ever does) "Have a seat on me!" My eyes lit up and I advanced on it, until I felt the guard's gentle touch.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, sir!" he said, paraphrasing the saddest line in all of Shakespeare.
"But it says to have a seat," I said.
"And so it does. But it's not for the likes of you!"
I turned away mute from this crushing warning, and wandered lonely as a cloud 'neath lowering skies in Lincolns' Inn Fields. A slight mist became a light rain. It was January and chilly. I opened my umbrella, for I love London most when I am strolling at twilight under a slight rain with a big brolly. I began to cheer up, and reflected that dinner hours had commenced at Rules of Covent Garden, the oldest restaurant in London. I always tell the waiter the same thing: "Hello, my good man. For my dinner this fine evening, I fancy the cockaleekie soup, toad in the hole, a banger and mash on the side, and, to follow, the spotted dick."
Pritikin, 2002: Most intimate portrait ever published of a film critic
Over the years, people almost never discussed my weight, at least to my face. Perhaps they were being tactful. Perhaps they were blind. I preferred to believe they simply did not notice it, as I never did. I avoided reading blogs, where it was deemed sufficient reason to discredit my reviews: "Why should I believe that fat slob about anything?"
There was only one other disturbing incident. This was in Bangkok, Thailand. Chaz and I were visiting Thailand because at a charity auction she had obtained two weeks, two spas and a luxury Bangkok hotel at a shamefully low price. "This was a steal!" she exalted. "These people are all so busy they don't have time to take off for Thailand." A true bargain indeed, its value diminished only slightly when we discovered the luxury package did not include air travel.
The Phantom 2004: Merely a fashion accessory.
Bangkok was a shopper's paradise. Chaz visited a custom tailor's and ordered four $10,000 designer outfits from the pages of the latest Vogue for $102 each. One day while strolling near our hotel, I saw a more humble tailor shop with a fine white linen summer suit on display in the window. There was a sign: "Fine Linen Summer Suit Made to Measure--$80!"
I went inside. The tailor and his assistant explained the procedure. "We measure you, quick-quick! Then we make suit, hurry to hotel! Then we try on, make alterations-as-needed! Then we hurry deliver suit, your room, 8 p.m."
"Eighty dollars?" I said. "I thought the Thai currency unit was the Baht."
"You are only American tourist who think that," he said.
"But it is 80 dollars?" I persisted.
The tailor looked thoughtful.
"Well...it 80 dollars suit, sure enough. But you--hundred dollar man!"
It was a great deal. For $100, I got a handsome white linen suit that fit me, and a story I could tell every time I wore it.
I keep forgetting about the Phantom of the Opera. Yes, what is it like to resemble him, since I am what is now described as having Facial Differences? To begin with, I must make this clear: Many people have problems much worse than mine, and at a much younger age, and sometimes joined with other disabilities. I may seem tragic to you, but I seem fortunate to myself. Don't lose any sleep over me.
I cannot speak, eat or drink, and have lost a lot more pounds, and, believe me, it would have been a more fun doing it the Pritikin way. I was pretty far along toward my Pritikin goal when fate suddenly lopped off these pounds and, for my sins, permanently stopped my next Steak ' Shake Super Steakburger ("In Sight, It Must Be Right!") in its tracks on its way from the grill. Compared to other people, I'm lucky. For example, see how much I'm enjoying myself right now.
I am so much a movie lover that I can imagine a certain (very small) pleasure in looking like the Phantom. It is better than looking like the Elephant Man. I would describe my condition as falling about 17% of the way along a graph line between the handsome devil I was at the ripe tender age of 27, and the thing that jumps out of that guy's intestines in "Alien."
Self-portrait, 2006, the day before surgery
The problem is that no one seems to know what the real Phantom looks like. I do not look at all like the modern Phantom, as portrayed by the far from unattractive Gerard Butler in Joel Schumacher's 2004 film. He's so handsome, he has the girls blowing kisses to him as he punts along the sewers. No, the Phantom I resemble, the real Phantom, is the one played by Lon Chaney in Rupert Julien's classic 1925 version.
The 2004 Phantom scarcely skulks about in a clammy subterranean grotto. He seems to inhabit a spacious dockside room in a sewer marina. Nor is his disfigurement other than picturesque. The way his sleek off-white mask covers his right temple, eye and upper cheek, and curves gently to meet his nose, it looks like a fashion accessory. Everybody will want one. It also distracts from the inescapable fact that the Phantom's wound has been relocated.
Yes, in the 1925 version, the Phantom wears a full face mask. When Christine Daae removes it, there is one of the great smash cuts in cinema, showing the Phantom full-face with his mouth gaping open. Although his complexion is far from untroubled, his real problems involve his mouth, teeth and jaw--nothing to do with his right temple. Study the picture at the top of this page.
Self-portrait, 2008: After the ball is over
I know, I know, don't tell me: Using the 1925 mask, the "Phantom" could hardly sing in a satisfactory musical. How could one be sure if that was even really Gerald Butler singing? Another of the many reasons silent films are preferable to these noisy modern ones when actors are always opening their mouths. Both the wound and the mask were relocated by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Now the Phantom is clean-cut, square-jawed, has obviously had some Work done, and looks like a toothpaste model or the cover illustration of a romance novel.
I resemble the Phantom, but only to myself. I wear a bandage wrapping the general area of the Phantom's 1925 troubles, although good doctor David Reisberg and his colleague David Rotter of the University of Illinois at Chicago Hospital have just given me a test run of a handsome new prosthetic that will allow me to retire the Mummy look, and then Bob's your uncle.
So to return to my opening question, what does it feel like to resemble The Phantom of the Opera? Not like much of anything. I rather avoid mirrors. I do not dwell on my appearance. I have bigger fish to fry. Nor do I mope about fearing that my cancer might return. If it does, it does, and that's what she wrote. At Pritikin they have a truism: "If you don't die of anything else, sooner or later you will die of cancer." We all nod thoughtfully.
If this news depresses you, reflect that for "cancer" you can substitute almost any other fatal disease or even any accident, save perhaps Spontaneous Combustion, which I do not believe in, but have always thought an entertaining way to go. If that happens, they'll be talking about you when you're gone.
"Do I look okay, Gene?" I asked him one night when we were waiting backstage to go on the Leno show.
"Roger, when I need to amuse myself," he said, "I stroll down the sidewalk reflecting that every person I pass thought they looked just great when they walked out of their house this morning."
"The Phantom of the Opera" is in my Great Movies Collection. For a virtual tour of Sir John's, http://www.britishtours.com/360/soane-museum.html
The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit, Summer 2005. (l-r) Tony Danza, Werner Herzog, Richard Roeper, Roger Ebert, Haskell Wexler, Joe Mantegna, Virginia Madsen, Scott Wilson.
Siskel & Ebert at McDonald's
The worst of times, the best of times
Siskel & Ebert on Howard Stern's TV show
A great read, sir. I recently watched The Phantom of the Opera for the first time. Lon Cheney indeed pulled off a stellar performance.
I posted one of your At The Movies shows on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fojNooSRccA where you and Gene were taking pot shots at each other. I think Gene must have been rolling his eyes off camera when you started into him because of that. It was funny!
You are what you are Roger, and I and most everyone else have excepted you with a smile over the decades!
At least you were never Cellophane Man.
"Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death."
Your style and references take time to sink---in my humble opinion your best post so far.
That youtube clip of THE CRITIC must be more touching to you now that when you and Gene first made it. It sure was to me, suprisingly.
Dear Roger,
Great post. I feel compelled to point out, however, that the picture you included at the top of the column is not of Lon Chaney Sr. as The Phantom, but rather James Cagney portraying Chaney in "Man of a Thousand Faces."
I know I am a churl to point this out (a word I use solely because the first time I saw it was in one of your columns, and which I admit I was just dying for an opportunity to use. I am not sure I used it correctly, but then it is too good a word to restrict its usage to the appropriate times).
I seemed to have lost my way-- oh yes! Phantom of the Opera pic. It's the wrong one.
P.S.: When I was a grad student, I bought "Behind the Phantom's Mask" off the top shelf of the greatest used and rare book shop in the country: The Curious Book Shop in East Lansing, MI. It was bookended by "The Unauthorised Guide to the X-Files" and "Dante's Divine Comedy" with the Dore' etchings. What company!
Ebert: Not Chaney? Not what ut says here: http://www.win2005.net/JPG_pictures/LonChanie_Gallery.jpg
Best wishes.
The tobacco ravaged teeth in the captioned photo look far better than mine ,which has enforced considerable inhibition on the sacred act of smiling----danke ,your post brought a SO-WHAT-DON'T- GIVE- DAMN feeling ! If a remix of the Phantom and Michelin (thank you Wiki) can do it ,so can I ! Spaciba !
Ebert: I have never smoked a day in my life.
I see. So, the faux bickering, the witty reparté... it all makes sense now.
You were both hammered!
I don't know why I didn't see it before.
...
BTW, my favourite Phantom was 'The Phantom of the Paradise'.
Why in the hell have you not written an autobiography yet? With all the little details about your life from this blog and your reviews and probably write the damn thing in an afternoon. Please, please, please, write it!
I'm glad that you maintain a positive outlook through all this. It's a miracle what you have gone through and managed to come out of. I wish I could write with your level of self reflection and energy, but alas, I am only 20, and there are so many things I have yet to experience.
And the videos at the bottom are priceless :)
Ebert: Some of the entries are sort of notes for a memoir. "Only 20?" Yes, but you have experienced what you have experienced, and will not be able to write about it the same way at 40.
I always knew you were a great man, Mr. Ebert, and that's not only because you write non-stop, but because you do it with style. It's really inspiring to say the least. I don't know many people who would continue to work if they went through half of what you did. With most people, usually a sore back makes them want to retire early. Either way, nice blog, and it's really nice to see that clip from "The Critic." Classic episode, probably the best. Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease.
I don't think the Phantom of the Opera ever had such a relaxed smile....
Hmmm. Reminds me of a quote from Groucho Marx:
"I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception."
Thanks for sharing. I miss Gene, too.
Ebert: I was sitting next to him at dinner night before his honorary Oscar. Waitress: "Would you like a fork?" Groucho: "Your place or mine?"
Your strength and positive attitude toward overcoming adversity is simply inspiring.
Here is the real Lon Chaney in the scene you described, Mr. Ebert:
Exhibit A:
http://www.filmsquish.com/guts/files/images/phantom.jpg
Your pic is just a slightly vertically-stretched version of The Cag', seen here:
Exhibit B:
http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film2/DVDReviews38/man%20of%20a%20thousand%20faces/man%20eith%20a%20thousand%20faces%20PDVD_016.jpg
Your picture works just fine to serve its purpose though, which is: great post, sir!
Mr. Ebert-
I know that in this day and age physical appearance is sometimes quite literally everything, but if it counts for anything, I think that long after you are gone and I am gone your words will live on to people of all shapes and sizes, who will know you not for your supposed girth, but for your uncanny ability to be entertaining, intelligent, insightful, and quietly brilliant all at once. I can say with complete confidence that I have never read anything you have written without being affected one way or another, which is very much a compliment. Please teach a class somewhere about something; and please let me in. You are an inspiration and to me an aspiration. Thank you.
P.S.- In your description of how fate lopped off the rest of the pounds you were aiming for "for your sins," I couldn't help but be reminded of "Mean Streets." You "made up for your sins" in the streets, you did it at home. Funny how a talented filmmaker (which for Scorsese is an understatement) can put make such an impression in two lines.
Roger, a sort-of random question for you -
Are there any other recordings of you singing out in the wild?
I loved and sorely miss The Critic, and the episode with you and Gene was probably the best of the run of the series. The run where Gene dresses Jay up to look like you is pure comic brilliance...
I don't mean to be nice, so forgive me, but I don't think you resemble the Phantom in the slightest bit. You had me giddy with anticipation with that lengthy buildup, and what a letdown! With the exception of the gauze and the throat gizmo you quite frankly look utterly and completely normal and not grotesque in the slightest. When someone promises me a monster, I want a monster, damnit.
This was a truly wonderful post. I've been a regular visitor and reader for several years now and perhaps it took a wonderful post such as this to nudge me out of my state of inertia and get me to post a comment.
Thanks to your blog and the wonders of YouTube, hours of At The Movies footage is thankfully now available to so many more people from so many more countries.
If only something could be done about the titles we get to see at the movies. If distributors and theater owners credited us Indian viewers with a little more intelligence perhaps we'd even get to see a quarter of the movies you so wonderfully review.
All we usually get with theatrical releases and even DVD titles are the summer blockbusters and some old classics (even these tend towards the blockbusters of that age - Cleopatra, Ben Hur, Lawrence of Arabia etc.). This is partly why DVD piracy continues to flourish in these parts. I for one, wait until a work trip takes me abroad and then spend hours inside a Virgin Megastore or watch movies back-to-back to catch up on all those that I've missed.
It is now 1:53am in Chicago and I wonder if you're up and reading comments as they get posted.
This article makes me think of Mastroianni and Ekberg watching Mastroianni and Ekberg in Fellini's "Intervista." (Your review, in the 90's directed me to this lesser Fellini gem. While it is no "8 1/2," this scene, in my opinion, is his second greatest film.)
Arguably, it is the most genuine and memorable scene in moviedom.
Or, maybe I am just getting old.
Ebert: We see them watching themselves in "La Dolce Vita." And always at my back I hear, time's winged chariot hurrying near.
Damn, I miss Siskel, but I never liked his fat comments. You got grilled big time on Howard Stern...it was uncomfortable to watch. I lost over 100 lbs five years back and gained a big chunk back. So it goes. Now I'm on the "Holy S@#t, You're Getting Married Diet!". Not fun.
I agree that an autobio or a reflection on Siskel is in order (maybe "Siskel by Ebert"?), as it was a special, influential relationship.
You don't look like Phantom. You look good, and have a helluva spirit. How do you do it so well if you can't eat or drink? Wow.
That was truly a delightfully digressive bit of self-reflective existential pondering, my friend. I found myself lost in your descriptive prose and became embodied in your plight, awash in the bittersweet joy of your retrospection. It's musings such as these that bring the prevalence of mortality to the exterior and forces one to reflect on the true meaning of existence: to live. Dispiriting as it may be, youth is fleeting. If anyone gets anything out of this post -- besides the discovery of the brilliant Lon Chaney -- I hope they take away a bit of reflection. A more cognizant rationalization of how wonderful this moment is, this second, this breath.
My father went through the ordeal of bone marrow cancer, and when it was all said and done, had lost almost 200 pounds of his former tubby physique. His once youthful visage with cheek of tan seemed to age 20 years - no longer a face of middle-age but a vision of a senior citizen at 55. He plows on, vibrant and plucky, because mirrors are devised to distract the soul from it's truth, and cannot hold a strong man captive to it's seduction.
There is something to be said about the inner strength of human beings. It says - no, vanity is trivial and the breath of life is essential. With hope and memory we trod upon the gardens of diversity and play our cards with the jester in a continuous game of existence....and boy is it a wild card.
On an abselutely unrelated note, the before and after photographs are both absolutely brilliant. I can't take my eyes off the composition . Who took them ??
Ebert: The self-portraits? I forget.
Call me a duffer, but I only got one reference for sure: A bit of dialogue from the now-almost forgotten Nicholas Roeg film, The Witches, delivered by Bill Paterson as he orders his dinner from a waiter. A film that deserves remembering. Supposedly for kids, but light years away from some of the pap that is served up to children.
Ebert: But...I don't know what reference you're talking about! Must have been coincidental.
Thank you for another great post, Roger. Thank you for sharing your wonderful memories of Gene.
This rather reminds me of Woody Allen's theory in Annie Hall -- that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. I fall under the former category myself, being a wheelchair user. I guess we both know that being horrible isn't so bad after all. At least you've got an air-tight excuse for being so miserable!
I think each person tries to ignore her own faults to live a happy and carefree life, instead of dwelling on her problems. Other people might notice those faults, ignore them and treat her like there's nothing wrong... or they might choose to tell her about them, as if she doesn't know it already.
When I was 3, I took a great fall and got a huge scar on my forehead from it. As expected, kids constantly teased me about it. As I grew up, the scar got less noticeable and around 5th grade I stopped hearing comments about it. One day, in 10th grade, someone made a comment about it and I was completely shocked... because in the last few years I had completely forgotten I had a scar. Even when I saw myself in the mirror, I never noticed it.
The video of you and Siskel was hilarious! Reading this whole post was a lot of fun.
Rabindarnath Tagore, the Indian poet, playwright and educator, wrote: "Whatever may happen, it will be but a small thing as far as your soul is concerned. There is no one greater than you are." These words of encouragement by a great writer - who transformed numerous personal sufferings into brilliant creative energy - are profound and fortifying.
Our lives are "treasure towers" of supreme and inviolable dignity. Whatever tribulations we face, we can turn everything negative into something positive and emerge truimphant, thereby changing poison into medicine.
SGI President Daisaku Ikeda
Seems your "Deep Vote" article is causing quite a stir with awards prognosticators.
http://www.awardsdaily.com/?p=4055
Roger,
You have lost the ability to speak, eat and drink, yet still remain such a positive person and love life. It's reflected in your writing -- you're still just as witty, intelligent and feisty when arguing for or against a movie. I can't express how much I admire you.
This was a great read, and I love the way that you can write -- and write movingly -- about yourself without seeming egotistical or pretentious. I only hope that in my own writing I will eventually be able to express myself with the same eloquence. Keep it up mate!!
Dear Roger,
First, let me say what an inspiring and touching blog. I applaud you sir. Secondly, I must agree with an earlier comment that your photograph of The Phantom is indeed James Cagney portraying Lon Chaney, Sr. portraying The Phantom. The moment I saw the photograph, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, that is not a photograph of Mr. Chaney I have seen before." I followed your link, and it is indeed listed as Lon Chaney. But I must, with all due respect, say the photograph is mistaken. I believe this DVD cover from "Man of a Thousand Faces" shows the same photograph here:
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm925013504/tt0050681
James Cagney or Lon Chaney, Sr.? No matter.
Ebert: Thanks to all who corrected me. I'll switch to the right Lon.
To me, a person's attractiveness or looks are about as useful as a fifty cent piece. Nobody really cares about them.
Don't get me wrong, I've been attracted to a passing by Italian beauty as much as the next, but when one actually stops to think, one begins to shed those many quirks and habits known as our insecurities.
I'm of course, not referring to lust or love, that would be too simplistic. No siree, what people really want out of life is fundamental, regardless of creed, color, race, education or background, political attitude and philosophical metaphysics. We of course, all want to belong, beit to someone or something; hopefully greater than our own selves. This sounds naive and cliché, but if you really stop and think, what more do we really want out of life anyhow?
I am not a spiritual advisor, nor am I a competent philosopher but like most I do share many pleasures in life which seek to illuminate that most ridiculous of natures. The nature of the search for self-meaning, which seems in its most tangible and intangible forms, utterly pointless.
Consider a thing as random and beautiful as "The Movies". An artform and a business like anything else, but they are so much more than that. Like many things, Movies are at once alive, breathing and ever-changing.
They are often anaylized and criticized; like most things in life. Yet, they are so much more than anecdotal pathways into a person's overrated catalogue of observation. It is a world all its own, wrapped up in a torrent of uncontrollable waves and valleys; which seem to change from moment to moment, just looking for the right observer to come along. The great moments in life cannot simply be explaned by logical deduction, they must be lived by everyone. In this sense, there is really no need for intellectual criticism, one must simply soak it all in, hoping recieve as much as humanly possible or probable.
There was a time during my life when I felt awkward, I would often refrain from joining in, not just to the cool crowds or prominent groups but instead to the people I loved. My friends, family. I suppose like many people I was afraid, but I now see that its simply an illusion created by ourselves. As people we have an obligation to reach out to others, regardless of the way we feel about ourselves. Whether you believe in him or not, God put us on this Earth to communicate, beit with others, ourselves or strangers; there's no point to simply sulking and rotting in a corner until the only one left telling the same joke over and over again is you and a mirror. That to me is a philosopher rather than a man at peace with himself. I cannot imagine a more miserable existence than the former.
Last week during that most historic day in our nation, I felt an overwhelming tide of change. Not because of the choices we've made but rather it is a feeling (if not temporary) of a kind of spiritual awakening; beit a slow or nonexistent one. People are incapable of being simply talking heads in a dark room, we are always striving for more, and thats what makes us unique in the canon of creatures who've roamed before us.
I used this analogy of "talking-heads" once in a film review to much praise. People in this society have become almost sadistic in their attempts to extracate themselves from their own neighbors. Instead of gleefully greeting one another with honesty we instead turn to stark critique and blind hatred; taking sides rather than sharing one. If this rant sounds like the same old record, you're in good company.
To come back to vanity, I have tried lately to be blantantly honest, both with myself and my surroundings. No doubt, many people feel themselves ugly, either physically or spiritually; for many incomprehensible reasons which are none other than their own. Going through my day I began to really observe people's faces, studying them carefully. I would look and gaze into their noses, eyes and ears, their faces, their lips and mouths. I began to realize that they looked not only fundamentally alike but also seemed to share the same moods hanging down upon them. What separates our own selves into believing we are unattractive, is our own misgivings about our state of minds and our honesty. When one is honest, one finds no solace in negative regression, whether for sin, vanity or bodily limitations. The eyes are the mind's window into the soul, and the eyes can tell you a lot about a person's true beauty.
When one is lost I find that integrity and love are often the best medicine. Last night I caught a glimpse of that most familiar and beautiful film, "A Man for All Seasons". Such movies stir my imagination in the best possible way, they are the films which make me understand that their is more to life than simply hot coffee, Television sets and pornography. To be sure, the language of the film is ridculously eloquent in its brevity and wit. Paul Scofield is among the canon of great performances, in a story about a man torn between his own ambitions to the world and those he loves and to his own self love. His love for God and his believe in all things decent. Placed in the tower for treason, he is left to rot, pondering about the dreary days which lie ahead preceding his execution before the King of England. His family comes to visit him, including his long time wife, who has had her share of rocky days. She believes in his vow of obedience to the Church and God, but is not entirely convinced of his faculties about it. Then again, who could blame her? Does the world deserve such inadequacies of character that it punishes those whom most deserve its trust? Sir Thomas Moore would like to believe that those injustices are pathways into the more righteous and tulmultuous road of reason. Reason for being, reason for living and reason for importance in all walks of life. During a crucial embrace from his wife, his body fails to contain his unguarded emotions (a blink it and you'll miss moment). His love was of course, too powerful for even himself to realize. Such wonderments are moments of symmetry and beauty. Ponderous in their wake, pure in their simple joy. Such moments reaffirm my reason for being me.
Without fear of leaving on an overly sappy note. Check it out, it's one Hell of a great movie! I am also looking forward to the Star Trek Remake, and while I'm at it I think I'll rent Phantom of the Opera. That was one handsome dude, though I still think Natalie Portman is prettier.
Ya know, with a little more practice, you might actually become good at this writing business. Cheers.
Matthew's right. It is Cagney. The image is even on the cover of "Man of a Thousand Faces."
http://www.nbcuniversalstore.com/img/product/resized/00058716-226126_200.jpg
I have seen that YouTube Clip from "Critic" before, and it was pretty funny("This is, from the man who liked "Benji the Hunted"?-"Hey, you like "Carnosaur!""). I'd love to show it to friends, but, alas, most of them don't know about you and Mr. Siskel. However, few ones who love movies know about you and find it hilarious just like me. By the way, if you had not undergone that hard time, I'm sure you would probably have had good time with Mr. Roeper in "Entourage".
Your writing this time is nice juxtaposition of fun moments with Mr. Siskel and how you look. When you talk about the latter, it reminds me of the struggle with my weight. When undergraduate course was near over, I began to concern about my weight. The annual health examination recommended me to lose weight. With jogging and swimming, I lost about 10kg. However, after graduate course began, the fat struck again even though I did exercise frequently. Now I am back in the original shape; I'm around 90kg. People say my height(182cm) compensates for that, but my recent health examination warns me about slight increase in blood pressure and cholesterol level. Some people around me think I'm fat and say there will be avalanche if I go skiing. I have no problem with that, but health examination never lies; it's time for losing weight, especially fat. First, I will quit one crucial bad habit; no night or evening snack while I watch DVDs at my room during weekend.
Anyway, my adventure with books and movies goes on. After having good time with Larry McMurtry's "Lonesome Doves" books and "Horseman, Pass by", I'm finishing "The Last Picture Show" and ready to go into its sequels. Meanwhile, I'll watch "Blindness", "Connect"(Chinese remake of "Cellular"), "Sleuth"(2007), "Waltz with Bashir", and "Happy-Go-Lucky" at the multiplex this week. I'll write my opinions about them on my blog. Balancing all of these and Lab work is hard and I have sacrificed many things, maybe even my sanity. However, it's rewarding and it's never boring.
P.S.
1. I have had funny experiences at the shoe store. Usually, they did not have 290mm(size11.5) or 295mm(size 12) at stock, and I had to come back some days later. Well, now they have big shoes or sneakers at stock. The Time changes things, doesn't it?
2. Your X-ray film(wow, X-ray film of celebrity is not something we see everyday) reminds of some funny cartoon strip in simple style I saw years ago. The boy was upset because girls are laughing at the naked baby picture of his exhibited at the photoshop. He protests to the owner, and then he replaces it with recent X-ray picture of that boy.
3. Have you ever experienced damaged DVD? I could not watch last 15 minutes of Yasujiro Ozu's "Early Summer" because of that. It was the second viewing, but it surely ruined good moment.
Ebert: Yes, a DVD will sometimes get stuck. You might be able to get around it by going to the next chapter, although you'll miss something. "Late Spring" is Criterion; their discs are usually perfect.
It's the difference between Lon Chaney and Andrew Lloyd-Webber.
I daresay your writing has become even better since you've lost the ability to speak. Your comments on comments have always been great, reminding me of your Showbiz Forum section on CompuServe, but it's a pleasure to read your blog.
Roger,
Who owns all that original unaired footage of you and Gene? It seems to me that deep in the archives somewhere there's enough footage to support a documentary about you, and about film criticism. this entire essay is written as a series of intriguing visuals. people love to say that critics become critics because they are failed artists. that's fiction. you are a born storyteller.
Ebert: The out-takes would presumably have been destroyed. Those 2-3 that survive must have been preserved by people working in post-production (years before YouTube). I wish there were more. There's your Siskel & Ebert relationship right there. Hilarity, punctuated by hatred. Talk about genuine chemistry.
Not that I hold much stock in this sort of thing, but about ten years after I started reading you regularly, I noticed on the IMDb what your birthday was, and I was surprised to see that it was a day before mine (June 19). Now, not to say that this explains my affinity to you and your writing, but it sure seemed pleasing. Now, your very explicit and honest self-portrait puts your birth day now as June 19. Is this a mistake, or is the IMDb (heaven forbid!) mistaken? Did the stars align, and grant me a shared birthday with not only Garfield the cat (year also!, nice to grow up with your birthday being celebrated in the funny pages), but also with Roger Ebert?
Just another tangent, then I'm gone, I have often been at a loss of words when I comment about you and your writing to other people, and what it means to my life. For those who don't know, you can't tell them, and unfortunately, most who don't simply think of your thumbs and don't know the writing. So, I calmly try to tell people, what is it about Ebert that makes such an impact? What does Ebert mean to me? And I had come up with a few, single-word, responses. I had thought early that the word 'mentor' would be a good description, but that would imply that you and I knew each other, and despite you actually publishing one of my AnswerMan submissions in your 2007 movie-guide, we don't. The term 'teacher' works pretty well, we don't have know each other for it to apply, and I have certainly learned a lot from you over the years, but I think its moved beyond that at this point to something deeper. My favorite, one-word epithet over the years may have been 'hero'. I think of how other people may revere sports figures or such, and I thought that this would then apply to you, but forgive me for now sobering up and shying away from such sentimentality as I approach the ripe old age of 31. I think I will settle on 'friend', although we have never met. Your words elighten my thinking, amuse me, delight me, sadden me, and comfort me. And I would hope will do so for a great number years into the future. And I think I will end my tangent here, and look forward to more of your writing.
Your friend,
Miles Blanton
Ebert: Friend Blanton: My birthday is June 18. Unfotunately, that's the only thing Pritikin got wrong.
Roger,
I remember mentally wincing at the cruel barbs Gene Siskel would sometimes make over your weight during talk-show appearances. I now see it in a new light thanks to you.
As for your appearance...I don't see Lon Chaney. I see the same Roger Ebert with a seemingly bigger smile on his face.
Well...okay, you're no longer wearing glasses. My brain can't get over that!
Can I just say, the line about Gene "paging through the Sun-Times, his favorite paper," may have been the subtlest and funniest dig I've ever seen in my life.
Ebert: True, oddly enough.
I never quite understood the kind of devotion that the musical version of "The Phantom of the Opera" attained and I'm not much of an Andrew Lloyd Webster fan (I see that we are dispensing with the sir of his title) although I do love a good musical.
A parody in a children's cartoon is my favorite Phantom (Barbar the Elephant). When I saw the 1925 original, as a young girl, I thought it was more romantic than I do now.
Weight is an issue that is easier for men to ignore than women and physical beauty tends to be the blessing and problem of women in current American culture.
I am glad to hear that Chaz did convince you to diet, but sorry to hear that your enjoyment of food has been curtailed. I only have to go home to be reminded that I am fat (at 90-93 lbs.) and that my mother is crazy. I think I might be going home for sometime after Thanksgiving. Unlike my mother, I am usually polite enough to refrain from really telling people how to lose weight unless I am repeatedly asked as I was at my former job.
After surgery on my neck, however, I was really concerned about the sizable scar from the microsurgery. Being female and single, it didn't help that my doctor told me the scar would eventually blend in with the wrinkles on my neck. The problem was that I didn't and still don't have any wrinkles on my neck. What woman wants to hear about her neck having wrinkles? Isn't that why some women start wearing scarves?
One of my doctors was sympathetic enough to remind me that all the men I had been casually dating and the friends who suddenly deserted me right before I went through surgery were not people who really mattered or cared about me. The good thing about surgery is that you quickly learn who are your real friends.
Hearing and reading the pitbull-like attacks between you and Gene is really amusing in a Dot Parker sort of way and I, too, think you should write a book.
I'm at the start of a long day--many papers to grade and students to meet with as the first trimester here at Knox College comes to a crashing halt--and I decided to ease into it by visiting your site. Once again, you amply (so to speak) reward the effort.
As a lifelong fat man--who this past year has been slowly diminishing, at long last (wish me luck)--I understood perfectly both your happily deluded self-assessment during your own fat years, and Gene Siskel's hilarious comment about how people think they look.
And as far as the Phantom goes, to me you look like any of us, "smiling through" as best you can--all of us Phantoms, our own doppelgangers, waiting for someone to help us snatch off our damn masks. Bless you, you enormous man.
But I'll admit, the best jump-start for my day was that clip of you and Gene ranking each other out. It brought a happy tear to my eye. What fun it must have been to have worked with The Man Who Laughs.
Paul
p.s. And thanks for the Groucho quote. Just last Sunday I made my marvelous sister-in-law (who the week before found out she has cancer) laugh by quoting his famous dismissal in Duck Soup: "Go, and never darken my towels again!" The power of Groucho compels you!
Ebert: I telephoned Groucho to ask him if I could interview him for Esquire. "Esquire? Isn't that the rag that prints all the shocking details about movie stars? You might call me a rapist! I'm a man 81. Could you? Would you?"
Mr. Ebert, I have read your reviews for many years, first in the Sun Times, and later online. I always appreciate your perspective, and movies and in other areas, even if I don't always agree with them. I can certainly appreciate your love/hate relationship with Gene Siskel; I've known quite a few people that I feel the same way about. Most of all, I am impressed by the way in which you've handled your illness and recovery, and how openly you've shared your struggle with your readers. It gives courage to us all to see that you can be faced with that adversity, and come through it with a smile on your face. If it makes you feel any better, that smile does make the rest of your face look so much better than the sad look you have in the previous picture, or the rictus grin of the Phantom. If you can keep that smile going, it'll make up for a lot.
Sorry if I've missed this somewhere else, but is there a long-term prognosis on getting your physical voice back?
Ebert: Voice gone, me here. One out of two not bad.
Hi Roger. Thanks for sharing such personal details about your experience. Without troubling you with the detail, I will say that I feel your pain, and I appreciate the opportunity to learn more about what you have gone through.
Speaking of pain - I remember the year that you got hurt during Ebertfest (did you slip and land on your wrist, if I recall correctly?) Ah, the perils of late nights at Steak 'n Shake...
I was wondering if you'd consider telling us what is going on with your ongoing collaboration with Richard Roeper. I always watched your weekly program, even after you left the show. (It was never the same without you, but Michael Phillips proved to be a worthy stand-in. By the way - I was thrilled that he contributed to your latest festival - and that Roeper FINALLY decided to grace us with his presence!)
Will you be producing a new show to replace it anytime soon? Your viewing public wants to know when this void will be filled!
Joe
Ebert: Slipped on wet wax, broke my shoulder, but didn't miss the closing screening of "Say Amen, Somebody" and a live concert by the Barrett Sisters.
Call me. . . well, whatever, but I never noticed your supposed "girth" until I read this artcle. To me you'll always be remembered as "Siskel, and the guy who agrees with me." or "The guy whose movie tastes most mirror mine," or "the beloved Mr. Ebert."
What the hey, I suppose I've always appreciated your personality and not noticed much else!
I'm glad to see your sense of humor play its way into your work as of late. Keep it up! Always look on the bright side of life (whistles himself off to sleep)
Is that 2008 self-portrait really Roger Ebert? It looks like Jimmy Carter.
I found one thing in this entry to be particularly interesting: The picture with you, Roeper, Tony Danza, Werner Herzog, Joe Mantegna, and Virginia Madsen (and others). I obviously know little of these peoples' personal lives, but that seems like an odd assortment of people to me. Perhaps a film festival of sorts?
I'd also like to say that I share your point of view on looks. I never really cared to pay attention to how others felt I looked. My wife, for whatever odd reason, thinks I look pretty good, so that's enough for me. Certainly a very lucky man to have found her, I'll admit. You and Siskel seem to have had quite the rapport, judging from the McDonald's video. If I may say, I think you got the better punches in:
"Did you know that for Gene, speech is a second language?"
I knew Gene couldn't sustain that streak for long without a grammatical error!"
Another great entry. As for the other main subject point, I've just added the original "Phantom" to my Blockbuster queue, so I'm looking forward to that in the upcoming weeks.
Ebert: That at the ceremony where I was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and they are are friends. I met Virginia Madsen as recorded in the family interview now on my home page. Scott Wilson the distinguished actor and his wife the angelic Heavenly have been to Ebertfest four tmes, only twice because he had films in it. Mantegna goes back to his Mamet days in Chicago. Haskell Wexler I met at the time of "Medium Cool" in 1968. Tony Danza went to college with Chaz. Werner Herzog you know about, but might not suspect is is one of the kindest and warmest men. I wish Rich Roeper had been standing in line with the others, but am happy he's in the pictuire. Missing from pic, but they were there: Gregory Nava and Anna Thomas ("El Norte," "Mi Familia"). Hugh Hefner came to the party that night, and apparently thought my company sufficient, so left his girlfriends at home! Met him in Chicago, met him better through Russ Meyer, who shot most of the first year's Playmates. The nice thing is, these are all friends, not photo-op friends.
Great post, Roger. Those of us who have gone through serious medical crises can totally relate.
By the way, your mentioning Leno reminds me of a joke he told in his monologue the day after you got married. It went something like this:
"Roger Ebert got married yesterday. When they were saying their vows, the minister turned to the bride and said, 'Do you take this man, Roger Ebert, as your lawfully wedded husband.' The bride replied, 'Um, I can't remember, is he the fat one or the skinny one?'"
Stay well,
Scott
Roger, this was the most delightful and enjouyable thing I have read in ages! :)
Roger, you have always set the bar high in terms of your work ethic, standards, and tenacity. Who can keep up with you, fat, thin, talking, not talking? You are one tough rare bird.
Great post. Thanks for helping start my day off on the right note! You definitely help me to remember that we all have nothing to hide, and simply need to accept our lives AS THEY ARE and simply be conscious.
BTW, I saw Baraka last night on Bluray and it was awesome. Thanks for the recommendation. I'll be watching Encounters at the End of the World this weekend too, should be fun!
Near the climax of the Lloyd-Weber musical Christine says (or sings) to the Phantom "This haunted face holds no horror for me now; it's in your soul where the true distortion lies." The Phantom was a character that allowed a lifetime of scorn over his physical appearance to grow into an embodiment of resentment and self-pity. After all that I've read about you, especially your experience over the last two years, I wonder how you could possibly make such a comparison. You're a survivor! You demonstrate tremendous acceptance! Your priorities are solid and that pathway from your mind to your typing fingers, which has been your gift and your passion, has never been obstructed! Regarding all the barbs from Gene, it shows you have a great sense of humor and more teflon on you than Ronald Reagan ever had. Happy Thanksgiving.
You recalling your banter with Siskel brings a smile to my face. Your courage and confidence makes me embarrassed of what I consider my daily struggles. You're very brave and your voice has never been stronger.
In that last self-portrait, you look less like Chaney's Phantom to me and a bit more like his mask. Not quite as preferable to the Gerard Butler incarnation, but at least better looking than the 1989 Robert Englund version. Yikes!
it was always the fat guy and the gay guy in my neighborhood growing up. However, no one thought you were really fat or Siskel was gay. But it was a great way to tell you apart!
Roger, your taste in movies and elegant prose have inspired me in many a way. Your reviews have brought me from seeking Adam Sandler at 12 to seeking Herzog at 24. And, as a novelist just starting out, the grace, determination, and obvious joy that comes across in your writing style places you up there with Nabokov and Lovecraft as far as inspiration goes.
A friend with whom you can share insults as endearments is a truly beautiful thing. How boring would it be to always be polite with your pals? Dorothy Parker wouldn't be remembered for setting books aside lightly. The aforementioned Groucho's one liners wouldn't have had their zing and longevity if they had been compliments.
So far as resembling the Phantom goes, I think that you have a distinct advantage over him. His life was filled with bitterness, spent hiding from the world and placing all of his hopes in the hands of one person who could not support them. You, on the other hand, have a wife who loves you, and a means of communication which allows you to reach the world, and lets the world reach back. Of course, you know that the resemblance is only physical, so I don't even know why I'm writing this, really.
I was watching "Pushing Daisies" last night, and the main character, Ned, spouted a little monologue about how he used to write letters to his future self. How interesting would it be if we actually did that? Every birthday, write a letter to be opened at a later date. Track the evolution of our thoughts, ideals, and views on life. Is what was important to me at 15 still important at age 27? I don't really know, now.
What would you write to yourself to read in a year, two years, five years? I'd be interested in reading that.
It is amazing what a human being can endure and adapt to. I am reminded of Elie Weisel's "Night" and the passage about the Jews of Sighet being packed into train cars, not knowing where they were going-yet, knowing all too well-and still, the teens flirted with each other, the women talked about their daily routines, the men joked, etc. Life goes on... we have very little choice in the matter.
I believe that you were one of the few who gave Lloyd Webber's Phantom a positive review,though it was a musical where the two lead characters could not sing-nice casting. You also gave his Evita a positive review, as well as his Jesus Christ Superstar, and yet each time you claim that you do not enjoy his writing style-particularly his use of thematic repitition, although it is a very common practice in opera and operetta. I believe, Mr. Ebert that you are indeed a closet Andrew Lloyd Webber fan, or at the very least he is a guilty pleasure. Before you shuffle off this mortal coil, which I feel won't be for a long, long time-my tenacious friend, I want you to come out, embrace your passions, and finally announce to the world that you enjoy the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber!
Roger,
This is one of your best blog entries. I haven't commented on your blog before but I thought, why not now? I really admire your writing and have been avidly reading you since you started posting film reviews on--what was it? Compuserve?, waaaaay back when. You once answered a question of mine on your old website(was it Movie Answer Man?) and I was thrilled to bits.
Your reflections on your appearance are well expressed and thoughtful; I think most people can relate on some level, with very few exceptions. Nobody's perfect, especially as the blush of youth leaves us (guess who turned 40 this year?) and for the record, your recent photo really looks quite nice, it is not in the least Phantom-esque. Outward imperfections and scars reveal a person's experience more readily than internal ones do, but everyone has scars of one kind or another. It's interesting (and frustrating) that in our appearance-obsessed culture that weight or scars purport to reveal so much about a person, when they are truly superficialities. Some of the worst scars are ones people can't see, and the funny thing is, everyone kind of knows this, but still the fixation with appearance persists.
I especially enjoyed the clip from "The Critic", and am wondering if you and Gene also recorded the singing section. My guess is that you did, but I thought I'd double check. The whole thing was pretty hilarious.
Ebert: Isn't it sort of obvious?
I guess it's human nature to point out deficiencies that you yourself do not suffer from, which (as evidenced by the Critic clip) is why you and Gene never taunted each other about horrible singing voices.
Great touch in The Critic clip, with the subtle reference to your Pulitzer!
I have this theory that leavens the seemingly venomous comments from Gene about your weight. By making fun of something, it's a way of saying "it doesn't matter". See the Farrelly Brothers' willingness to make fun of mentally challenged individuals - they're implicitly stating that NOT having fun with it only furthers the stigma. It's not insulting them. Ever mocked a friend's big nose or their accent? You are implicitly saying "yes, I noticed it. But who cares?" It's when people DO NOT make fun of your latest haircut that you should worry.
"After the ball" nice choice of words!
I like those two pics of you. One looks like a man who's about to face his maker, the other looks like a saved man who just got a new lease on life.
BTW, Gene wasn't referred to as the skinny one, he was referred to as the bald one!
Sorry, but that's not the Phantom you look like. It's not even Mr. Sardonicus. With your gleeful eyes and prosthetically-induced smile, you look most like Jerry Lester, from the days of prehistoric TV. The late Mr. Lester posed for many a head shot in his lengthy career, and almost all of them show him with his mouth wide open, in a silent shout of hilarity. I saw you at your recent Borders book signing, and you seemed to be laughing out loud (minus the aural capability, of course). /*/*/ (Mentioning Mr. Sardonicus sends me off-topic thusly: if they ever do a movie about the life of William Castle,the obvious choice for the lead is John Mahoney - just give him Heston's nose and Leno's chin.)(Sorry - topic resumes.) /*/*/ In my opinion, your apparatus is no more or less distracting than a really bad toupee or an oddly-designed choice of wardrobe. At least, I don't see anyone screaming with fear at first glimpse. Anyway, hang in there.
Ebert: There has been a sorta William Castle movie, and it's very good: Joe Dante's "Matinee" (1993).
I find amazing how even in a medium when beauty is everything (or at least, supposed to be), everytime you had a replacement host on your TV show, be it taking Gene's place of your place, be it dorky looking or not (there where even a couple of pretty good looking girls there a couple of years ago) the first thing that would pop into my mind would be "get these fake critics out of there and bring back the real one". When reading your articles you sound exactly the same as you did before the summer of 2006 and that's plenty enough for us your readers.
Yeah, the parody from The Critic was aces. Let's not forget that you inspired the name of a South Park episode, "Roger Ebert Should Lay Off the Fatty Foods." And of course your famous appearance in Roland Emerich's Godzilla.
Gene: Didn't we agree that we weren't gonna have any sweets until after the election?
Roger: [grabbing the bag defensively] Back off, Gene.
Meanwhile, the Michelin Man, whose name is Bibendum, was originally not a man made out of tires but a man wearing tires. As our next two pictures show, the French have no concept of Scary.
The picture at the top is DEFINITELY Lon Chaney. It is the most famous publicity still from the 1925 film. Cagney in his Phantom makeup for "Man of a Thousand Faces" bore little resemblance to Chaney in his makeup. Cagney's face was much broader and in the makeup he completely lacked the skeletal appearance that is so unnerving about Chaney's makeup.
The picture at the top is DEFINITELY Lon Chaney. It is the most famous character still from the 1925 film. Cagney in his Phantom makeup for "Man of a Thousand Faces" bore little resemblance to Chaney in his makeup. Cagney's face was much broader and in the makeup he completely lacked the skeletal appearance that is so unnerving about Chaney's makeup.
To read this is to get a sense of the sometimes stunning difference between the mind and the body. You make it out as a battle-- one that you are winning when you write like this.
You make me feel rushed-- to say what I have to say, do what I have to do...
Ouch! Some of those barbs you and Siskel traded would have made Groucho take up missionary work.
I am having a perfectly easy time not feeling sorry for you, although I occasionally indulge in feeling sorry for myself, that I may never again have the treat of hearing you speak at Ebertfest or Boulder. However, your increased writing output does provide a substantial compensation. And I'm happy you feel the same way about that compensation.
The one thing I have wondered about is why you no longer wear your glasses--do you wear contacts now?
I never thought of you as fat, only as you. I spend all my fat thoughts on myself for my useless daily mental flogging. In your honor, I will try, just for today, not to do that.
Ebert: Had the surgery. Success. Do wear glasses sometimes, though, especially for reading.
Reply to: Ebert: There's your Siskel & Ebert relationship right there. Hilarity, punctuated by hatred. Talk about genuine chemistry.
I remember waiting for April 1 to approach, many years ago, in the hope that there would be an "Special April Fools' Edition" of your program.
Where the movies reviewed would be "Citizen Kane" and "High Noon" and "The Sound of Music"... and you two would actually come to blows over whether Julie Andrews' performance was inspired or excruciating. (adjective 1. extremely painful; causing intense suffering; unbearably distressing; torturing)
Roger, you are one of my favorite writers, and one of only two I've been privileged to correspond with. What a lovely man you are in so many ways, and what a generous spirit you have. I think you and Chaz must be an incredible delight to friends and family, and am glad we all are able to know you even if only virtually.
Your self-portrait/2006 is ridiculously handsome and a magnificent image. Your smile in 2008 only underlines my previous observation. Thoroughly charming. I suspect much the same must be assumed of Chaz too.
Ah..... Life.
Roger:
This is completely off-topic, but you should read Richard Roeper's hilarious article on "Twilight" in his column today.
http://www.suntimes.com/news/roeper/1290022,CST-NWS-roep20.article
And for those who haven't read it, here's your review of "Twilight."
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081119/REVIEWS/811199997
Taken together, these two reviews make me long for the good old days when you and Roeper used to sit together in the balcony and trash teen horror flicks.
Reading these two reviews together is the next best thing.
By the way, I live in Washington state and have driven through the town of Forks, on the Olympic Peninsula, where the "Twilight" series is set. The town has become something of a pilgrimage site for fans of the "Twilight" novels.
If there were any vampires in Forks, I couldn't tell them apart from the rest of the residents in the town, who all look pretty dead on their feet.
I understand a sequel to "Twilight" is being planned. In the sequel, Edward Cullen and Bella Swann (the two young lovers in the series) take a road trip through the back roads of Washington state. They enter what appears to be a realm of walking corpses, with sallow white skin and blank staring eyes that see nothing.
But it turns out they've just made a wrong turn onto the Microsoft campus. The "walking corpses" are actually Microsoft programmers who have spent too much time sitting in their cubicles staring at their computer screens.
Enough nonsense. I really enjoyed your post today, and I admire your courage and honesty in speaking of your health problems and personal triumphs so candidly.
P.S. I know you removed the photo of James Cagney as the Phantom. On a side note, you should see "Man of a Thousand Faces" if you haven't already. It's one of Cagney's best performances.
Speaking of animated incarnations, have you seen your little cameo in this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0DYj5t4SI0 ?
Roger, you're flying high now! This was one delightful bit of self-effacing stream-of-what-the-hell writing! It takes a lot of discipline to be that undisciplined.
Many questions are raised by this piece. I have to admit, growing up, you were the fat one, and Gene was the skinny one. It would have been more fair to say, perhaps, that you were the fat one and Gene was the bald one. But then we're coming upon a slippery slope, there in the distance: why not say Gene was the bald one and you were the one with that beautiful head of Nobel-Prize winning hair?
Or he was the one who was distracted by basketball, and you were the one who was distracted by breasts? You were the crazy one who disliked Blue Velvet, and he was the crazy one who liked Blue Velvet?
Unfortunately, because of the pre-extant combos involving Messers. Abbott, Costello, Laurel, and Hardy, the "fat/skinny" dynamic was simply the go-to.
Wait, he wore jackets, and you wore sweaters, right? He tended to rise up and forward in his chair to make a point, while you tended to hold your ground by girding yourself between the arms of your seat?
I'm a little nuts at the moment. My mom just died, that makes two parents gone to cancer in 15 years. But they were unhappy people, and I think that's where the cancer came from (or how it was encouraged or invited)... You, Mr. Ebert, do not seem to be unhappy in the least. Your writing is, no B.S., better than it's ever been, and you delectable taste is movies has never been so honed. You are even more aces now than you have ever been at explaining why you felt one way about RACHEL GETTING MARRIED, and another way about QUANTUM OF SOLACE.
But I ask you now for my own quantum of solace (maybe a smidgen of solace?): When Gene died, you moved to his seat in the balcony, which implied that this was the seat of power all along (and the move implicitly means he was right about BLUE VELVET - sorry, I don't make these rules, I just imagine the stygian subtexts). But why you yourself left, why did Roeper not take that seat? In expectation of your return? As a admission that the seat is only for Siskels and Eberts?
Anyway, the world is beautiful from just the right angle, and it's still spinning, and so are you Roger, and we love you for it. May you blog until the wheels fall off.
Ebert: We read from left to right. I sat in one seat for S&E, the other for E&R. In theory, if Roeper ends up with a permanent co-host on the show we are now working on, it would be R&?. "Your seat" is the one you sit on. Gene had a regular seat in the Chicago screening room. The Monday after he died, there was a red rose on that seat. It is now occupied by my friend Dann Gire of the Daily Herald, who is the exalted leader of the Chicago Film Critics' Assn., and whose portrait, as I have often said, should hang in every post office and schoolroom.
Dear Roger,
Do they award Pulitzers for Blogging?
Over the last few months I've increasingly felt that we (your readers) are witnessing something special. They say that if life gives you lemons you should make lemonade. At a time when you could understandably be sowing sour grapes, you are instead producing a rare vintage. I admire you, I appreciate you, and I thank you.
I read the Siskel quotes and see the video, and I get angry. He reminds me of every immature jerk that tries to make up for his own insecurities at the expense of others. It appears that he had to work hard to keep up with you intellectually, and a fat joke was an easy jab to try to knock you off-balance. From your words, I understand that you two bonded, but his quips are still petty.
In the video, Gene seems impaired, and he's mashing his words a bit. Was he affected by the brain tumor at that point, or was he just a wee bit intoxicated?
You reveal that you no longer eat or drink. How do you partake of nutrition?
Ebert: No brain tumor, and he scarcely ever drank. Also, Gene was one of the smartest, fastest, funniest people I've ever met. We were thinking of buying a house on Gene's street, and Chaz and I showed him through to get his advice. "Don't buy it," he advised. "Just take my word for it." But why? "See that skylight up there without any way to block it? If you ever go the bathroom naked, Marlene and I will be able to see you from our apartment."
Wow. Seeing Tony Danza standing next to Werner Herzog in any context makes my brain hurt. :)
A great blog, sir, sympathique and very, very funny, if often in a somewhat “ouch” way. I certainly sympathize with your coming to terms with the change in your appearance, which I trust you are becoming reassured is nowhere near as dramatic to others as it is bound to seem to yourself. That’s human nature.
My own experience of something like this, by the way, is as someone with a lifetime of recurring bouts of extremely acute eczema, often manifesting itself in my face. Over the last 40 years I have had months or even a few years of remission in which I could almost fancy myself a veritable Adonis, interrupted at random by bouts of months of looking - oh, in my own mind, maybe about 25% along that graph you mentioned whose nether end was the chest-burster in alien, or something like the Flayed Man in some of the more colourful Tarot decks.
Or so I thought, anyway; I eventually discovered that in those bad times those around me – my wife, my children, other family, friends – were mostly concerned about one, my health, two, my state of mind, and by my appearance not at all. That, over time, brought some perspective.
And as to perspective, well, looking at your ‘after’ photo, I will offer this comment in addition to those already made: before you get too wrapped up in seeing yourself as the Phantom, consider: Lon Chaney’s Phantom as pictured above is, I submit, just not someone whom anyone would actually ever want to meet personally – not in a soirée, not in an opera house, not in a bowling alley, not in a dark alley, not in a nightmare. You, on the other hand, look like someone anyone would be pleased to encounter most anywhere. Someone who’s had a few health problems, maybe, and so what?
Okay, that’s just appearances, and maybe in real life you’re ornery as hell. But appearances, and dealing with appearances – our own and that of others- is what this blog is putatively about. So that’s my two bits about your appearance and why it really should not preoccupy you ‘outre mesure’.
And if any preoccupation remains, here’s a suggestion on a healthy way to deal with it: go back to that Thai tailor and get another suit made to your new proportions. That’s a great-looking suit in the photo, and at that price? You’re probably now slim enough to demand he make it for 60$ this time, and bam!, you just got even. And you’ll have another story to tell every time you wear it.
Anyway, I’m off now to watch, at your suggestion, Vertigo, which I just bought in DVD in a new restored edition, mostly because you brought it to mind this morning when I read your review of a Christmas Tale. I love that in so many of your current reviews you point readers back to the old classics.
P.S. Speaking of classics, or in this case just good old movies, a shameless plug: if you have any influence with the demiurges of DVD-dom, can you hint to someone that they really should reissue in DVD “The Mask of Demetrios’, that lovely old thing with dear old Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet as stars for once? I last saw it 15-odd years ago on VHS(long since gone); unobtainable on DVD, why, oh, why? Just thought I’d ask.
Ebert: A wonderful Jean Negulesco film, top-billing for once Warner's two great character stars. Oh, you just said that.
To find a house in the U.S. worth touring, try the House on the Rock in Wisconsin. Simply amazing.
I must've entered late, since the photo at the top is now definitely Chaney (not Cagney).
There is no one "face" to Chaney's Phantom. As detailed by Philip Riley in a long out-of-print book on the making of the Phantom of the Opera, Chaney's makeup changes constantly throughout the film, with different parts (nose, teeth, forehead) exaggerated for psychological effect in different shots, and sometimes just for practical reasons based on position of the camera and lighting so seams in the makeup wouldn't be visible. Chaney understood the resolution of film very clearly, and reviewed all footage to make sure there were no flaws in the makeup visible.
But that's not the purpose of this feedback. I was walking on the street in Shanghai once and saw what I had to look at closely to realize was a man; no legs, only part of one arm, dragging himself along on a board with wheels. Every exposed bit of flesh was burnt and twisted. It was more horrifying than anything I've ever seen in any film--and not just because it was real, but because of his face. A terrifying visage. (There's a shot in Dead and Buried of a burned man in a car that comes close.) Yes, of course it could be much worse for you. Aside from death, one could always make such a statement about any sort of physical and mental challenge.
But just because it could be worse doesn't dimish your courage in the face of physical adversity. Like most truly courageous men, you don't see yourself that way. Your current disfigurement, like your old weight, is relevant only to fools with a juvenile sense of humor. Of what importance is it? None.
Whose worth is judged by the circumference of a neckline and the perfection of a jaw? It is necessary only for narcissists in certain lines of work, like female movie stars and models of a certain age.
Keep writing, my friend, keep writing. Not only do many of us see your work as a heroic effort (to which you might shrug in reply, "What am I going to do? Sit home?"), but it's inspirational. All of us are going to face heavy going in the future as we age. When I hit the shit, I'm going to think of you and reread your writing. I can tell, now, in advance, that it will give me great psychological help in getting myself back to the keyboard.
So please make sure this website doesn't just get zapped one day. Make a book of this part of your life. Such beauty out of such hardship. I'll be first in line to buy.
I think you bested Gene in that exchange-- maybe he should have drunk more than 'scarcely ever.'
I admire your bold and ironic claims to Shakespeare's 'saddest' lines. Context is everything, after all. The rest is silence.
The bespectacled picture of your youth looks like a Bengali.Bengalis are supposed to be sensitive,delicate,high-brow.Me Panjabi.Panjabis are stereotyped as boorish,quarrelsome,and like the Irish,an epicentre of Jokedom--brethren,I crave pardon.PS1:Gave up smoking 16 years ago after having smoked about 325,000 of 'em in 25 years. and don't like to drink particularly.PS2;To meet a poetic genius of Panjab ,including two lines of his own poetry sung heart-rendingly in his own voice click here (language barrier,please).He also reminded me of your here above quoted photograph.PS3:From your retort to me in the previous post,I have a glimpse of your towering passion for cinema.My humble salute.No cellophane man here.And I salute your humility.PS4;Sorry for kid talk about looks-as though you need it.
Dear Roger, Was Gene really that mean? I'd slap somebody like that. You make him sound like an insult comic genuis. A personalized kosmic karmic curse. Was he really two shades of Don Rickles or were you condensing years of acerbic interactions into a few nuggets of literary license. I have a friend who seems to enjoy splashing me with occasional insulting sarcasm, but I console my wounded ego that hes also incredibly insecure.
P.S. Thanks for the 1970 pic. I wondered what Roger Ebert Biology lab partner looked like.
"....."We repeat the cycle of birth and death secure upon the earth of our intrinsic enlightened nature." Our life from past to present to future is like going for a drive. From birth to death, in lifetime after lifetime, we travel upon the great earth of life. But even though birth and death are repeated by everyone, there is a great difference between struggling across a dangerous swamp in an old rattletrap and speeding along a freeway in one of the latest models. The former is the result of living your life with the idea that everything ends with death, and the latter the result of a life lived with a knowledge of the essential reality of birth and death. By harnessing the mysterious functions of the life essence, we are able to enjoy the enlightened cycle......"
SGI President Daisaku Ikeda
"Having received life, one cannot escape death. Yet though everyone, from the noblest, the emperor, on down to the lowliest commoner, recognizes this as a fact, not even one person in a thousand or ten thousand truly takes the matter seriously or grieves over it. Suddenly confronted with evidence of the impermanence of life, we may be frightened at the thought that we have remained so distant from Buddhism and lament that we have been too engrossed in secular affairs. Yet we assume that those who have preceded us in death are wretched, and that we who remain alive are superior. Busy with that task yesterday and this affair today, we are helplessly bound by the five desires of our worldly nature. Unaware that time passes as quickly as a white colt glimpsed through a crack in the wall, ignorant as sheep being led to the slaughter, held hopeless prisoners by our concern for food and clothing, we fall heedlessly into the snares of fame and profit and in the end make our way back to that familiar village in the three evil paths, where we are reborn time after time in the realm of the six paths. What person of feeling could fail to grieve at such a state of affairs, or could fail to be moved to sorrow"
Nichiren Daishonin
Hi I am an 8th grader and in class we read one of the articles that you wrote about you self after you surgery an it's called "I Think I'm Musing My Mind". It was a great piece and i think your writing is amazing and im happy you got back to reading and writing because you are awesome even though you have been through some hard stuff.
Ebert: Wow. Will you do some of your own writing, in addition to anything else you're planning on?
I am still getting used to your new look but I never thought to compare you to Lon Cahney's (or James Cagney's) phantom. Makes me think of a child who doesn't realize his mother is fat until another kid says so. Whether I agree or disagree with what you write I never really concerned about your apearance. Except when you hosted the Independent Spirit Awards nomination show and your hair was way too styled and poofy. You look better (maybe more real) with half combed hair. I think I'll adjust to the new face. But if you don't look in mirrors how do you shave? And why don't you wear glasses anymore?
Fashion Week. The Roger Ebert Collection:
Blue blazer
Blue pull-over sweater vest
Blue Oxford shirt
Khaki pants
I agree with other readers that this may be your best blog post yet. You should feel very proud of this one.
For what it's worth, I think you were handsome in 1969 :). And not as overweight as you seem to remember yourself being.
I feel pretty smart at catching that nice reference to William Wordsworth :).
When are we getting back to movies?thanks to this damned blog,I haven't seen one in weeks ,wih Zero for Conduct,Mephisto,Enfants du Paradis and Last Temptation languishing in neglect.
Greetings Roger and fellow readers!
Congratulations on another wonderful blog entry. Whilst reading it I was very much reminded of the quote ‘It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye,’ uttered by The Fox in "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint Exupery.
On the subject of appearances and weight, my most recent film experience was 1978’s superb ‘The Silent Partner,’ which features a rotund John Candy in an early supporting role. The movie is set in Toronto and contains terrific performances by Elliott Gould, Christopher Plummer, and Susannah York. One of the screenplay credits went to a young Curtis Hanson, who subsequently directed such acclaimed films as L.A. Confidential, Wonder Boys, and 8 Mile.
Thanks so much again for the gift of enlightened writing!
Chris Alders
Nova Scotia, Canada
Ebert: "The Silent Partner," a wonderful film, also starred the transcendently beautiful Celine Lomez.
This is a wonderful piece of writing. It's also very sad. I hope you know that your voice- your writing voice, which is your real voice- is familiar to, and beloved by, many of us, all over the world. I know everyone at various times feels alone in his own mind, and that his experience is incommunicable- and I think your circumstances might make you more prone than most to that feeling- but you're being heard, and understood. I appreciate your sharing this stuff.
Ebert: That at the ceremony where I was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and they are are friends. ... Mantegna goes back to his Mamet days in Chicago. ... Tony Danza went to college with Chaz. Werner Herzog you know about, but might not suspect is is one of the kindest and warmest men. ... The nice thing is, these are all friends, not photo-op friends.
That's good that they are all friends. I seem to remember a recent blog of yours where you mentioned you didn't like posing for pictures for publicity, but can't find it now. Am I making that up? Still, knowing these individuals only from what we see of them in movies and TV, the pairing of Danza and Herzog seems odd. Think "Who's the Boss" meets "Encounters at the End of the World." Still, I suppose that's the cool thing about how humans come to make friends, despite different backgrounds. "Encounters" is the only Herzog movie I have seen [yet]. He did strike me as being a very genuine man, if that's possible to know from a film. I noticed you had a blog entry a while ago about him. I'll have to go back and read that, then go see "Aguirre, Wrath of God." *cracks open the Blockbuster queue once again*
Ebert: Some of the entries are sort of notes for a memoir. "Only 20?" Yes, but you have experienced what you have experienced, and will not be able to write about it the same way at 40.
I forgot to comment on this before, so I'll touch on it now. I love how much context plays into everything we do. I, too, am young still, but I feel I have been through my share of experiences so far in life. Whenever I write about some sort of experience I've had, whether for myself or for an assignment, I have always been glad that I wrote about it at the exact moment that I did, even if it was at 2:00am the morning it was due, instead of the week before.
On the flip side, when I have found myself too busy to reflect on something while it is fresh in my mind, I've used that as an excuse to never do so. Perhaps if I had written about those experiences when they had happened, it would have been the right time. I suppose if I ever get around to it in the future, maybe it will still be able to get something out of the experience. Did that all make sense? If so, do you find you enjoy writing most about things that are either currently happening or have recently happened, or do you prefer reflecting back on past experiences for a new look?
Ebert: Yes, the bit about posing for pix was in "Roger's Little Rule Book." I said I did not ask celebs to pose with me. But if real friends turn out for a big day in your life, or course I would be overjoyed to have my picture taken with them. I'm not nuts. Someday I should run a photo gallery of real unposed photos taken at real moments by a photographer not involved with the moment.
Roger,
I still don't understand why you can't talk or eat. I have a tracheotomy and can do both. And as you mentioned, you are being fitted for a prosthetic jaw. So unless you no longer have any control of your tongue, or your vocal chords are damaged, you should be fine.
Please explain.
To previous posters who wonder how Roger gets his nourishment nowadays, I suspect he has a permanent feeding tube "installed" in his belly. It either leads to his stomach, or directly to his intestine. Sustenance is provided by a Boost/Ensure-type meal replacement "drink". I am sure Roger can corroborate my suppositions.
Ebert: It's called Traumacal. If I could talk or eat, believe me, I would.
Gene would've been a terrible guy to play chess against I'm thinking. Imagine the ad nauseum gloating if he won. And if he lost he might pull a Great Santini on ya'.
Ebert: I'm the chess guy. Sammy Reschevsky was my hero. Queen's Gambit, because most of your marks don't know it. Gene's game was poker. He was expert.
I found the McDonalds clip awhile ago, and could only watch half of it for fear of actually laughing myself to death.
It comes across as quite touching. People who see this clip and think you and he weren't close friends have never had close friends.
One time on S&E you and Gene were reviewing a movie about a summer camp for fat kids, and Gene said he was upset at the filmmakers for making fun of kids for being fat. You turned to Gene and said "Just like you make fun of me for being fat" and Gene immediately said with conviction "Roger if it bothers you I will never do that again". I think that brought you up short and you didn't say anything in reply.
At the time I used to tease my sister pretty unmercifully for being overweight - we were both teenagers after all - and the look on your face reminded me so much of her when I was unexpectedly kind to her that I resolved to stop teasing her about it from then on.
I would also like to say I was surprised at how sad I felt when I heard gene had died, and missed him terribly for some time afterward. I hope he kept his word.
Ebert: His remarks actually didn't offend me at all. My remark was intended as a zinger and he one-upped me by being nice, the bastard. He offered more than once to lay off on the talk shows, but I didn't want to lose the material.
Dear Roger,
I am reading your blog and a movie is swirling around in my head. Do you remember the movie, THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE? Of course you do, because you are the movie guy! Well, the point of that movie is that when we love someone dearly we do not see the surface appearance but rather feel the wonderful internal persona that is the real guy. May I tell you here and now that I love you Roger Ebert! I love your writing, your voice which is so precise and articulate. I love your spunk. I love the fact that you have gone to the mountain and seen over the edge and yet you continue to influence many generations of movie lovers. I love your courage! And let me say, that I will never, no never, tell you to get well soon!
I hope that you will continue to inspire and educate me and the public at large. One is blinded to mere physical form because you were never the fat guy, nor are you now THE PHANTOM, Roger. To me, you are the gifted guy with words, with a kind heart and a generous appetite for life.
THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE had a happy ending and your story is not a sad one because you are still here and continue to touch the lives of many, many people. In my book, in my movie you are a hero!
Judy Shuster
I am certain I'm not the first one to reference this, but about 20 years ago, when I was first becoming familiar with your work, I read your review of "My Left Foot," which opened with a paragraph that fascinated me with its implications:
"I am trying to imagine what it would be like to write this review with my left foot. Quite seriously. I imagine it would be a great nuisance - unless, of course, my left foot was the only part of my body over which I had control. If that were the case, I would thank God that there was still some avenue down which I could communicate with the world."
I thought of this paragraph when word came that your condition had left you without the ability to speak. But in this case, it was we, those who read and admire your work, who have reason to be thankful that we still have an avenue to hear your opinions. And through this blog, you have graciously allowed us to get to know you even better.
This most recent entry is the most remarkable yet. Hilarious, personal and, yes, inspirational. Thank you, as always, good sir.
Ebert: So I guess I had already thought it through.
Roger,
I have been reading you for 25 years, bought my first book of yours in 1982 where I discovered you had incorrectly quoted Travis Bickle as saying "You looking at me" instead of "You talking to me?". I wrote you a badly typed letter from a borrowed high school typewriter to inform you of the error, and you were kind enough to reply. As the years have passed and I have gotten older, I would occasionally get PO'd at your political opinions that became more common during the last 6 years, and in the last week found myself typing a letter to you again, but thought the better of it. I told myself, what does it matter what Ebert has to say.
Then I watched "Encounters at The End of the World". And at the end, I was absolutely blown away when I saw Herzog had dedicated the film to you.
And then it came flooding back into my head that you were the reason I even knew who Herzog was, you were the reason I spent months in the early 80's attempting to get a bootleg VHS copy of "Aguirre", you were the giant who had introduced me to another giant.
I was stunned, and sat smiling at the screen, at your name sitting at the closing of another incredible Herzog film. A very nice way to end my evening.
I wish you the best in all that awaits you, stay well, stay strong!
Sincerely,
Terry Murphy/Chicago
Ebert: Thanks for being so nice. I vowed to keep the blog politics-free and then it was Obama against McCain and it was like I had a weapon and chose not to defend myself against a charging pit bull. No more politics again for awhile.
You're neither a liar nor a charlatan. You've not stolen and intended bad consequences though you may have written poorly now and again or issued critical opinions some felt unwarranted. But, I believe, you've always been honest.
You've not caused hundreds of thousands to lose their jobs. You've not acted through greed. You haven't bought any stock swaps or insured against poorly performing securitized mortgage-back securities. You haven't flown on your private jet to a Congressional hearing to ask for billions of dollars to bail you out from bad decisions you've made.
Unlike many, you can, and should, look at yourself proudly in every mirror you pass. Some should be so lucky.
If only Ebert had not existed so many hundreds of hours of my last five years would have gone into something less unproductive than gaping passively at a computer screen.....
Thank you for the advice, Mr. Ebert. Sadly, I was watching the last chapter and frustrated after several trials. I threw away that pirate DVD. By the way, I'm against DVD piracy and illegal download. I don't have problem in case of blockbusters, but it is easy and tempting to see masterpieces or small movies in these quick ways. The quality is questionable sometimes, but pirate DVDs and illegal download are cheap(about $1-2 in your currency) and Korean subtitle is irresistible even though English subtitle is acceptable to me. I can't deny I benefit from these ways. I have been watching many works of great directors "through a monitor darkly" and it was great. I could even watch Silence of God trilogy on last Christmas.
Footnotes: In 2006, I played "Traffic" DVD from Criterion two months after receiving it from Amazon.com and faced with the same problem I mentioned. I found serious scratch on the disc and threw it away. Refund requires lots of patience to customers outside USA, so I chose to buy new one. However, I had to pay higher price because I bought previous one at a bargain. Sometimes I ask myself about this, "Wasn't it waste of money?"
Ebert: "By any means necessary."
Funny thing, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923), starring Lon Chaney as Quasimodo (with lots of makeup and stuffing--wait, no. IMDB says the hump was plaster) was on TCM earlier tonight. It was pretty good, actually.
Anyway, at least you are smiling in your 2008 self-portrait. A smile does wonders to anyone's face (except maybe the Joker's). As long as you can keep smiling, that is all most people will ever notice.
Roger,
I don't know why I haven't written before, but having read this post, I feel compelled to tell you that yours has become singularly my favorite corner of the internet.
I check your site every day. I love movies. I can't really remember which came first. As you say, it's not what a movie is about, but how it is about it. I think that I came to read your site not because it discussed film especially but because of the wit and insight almost saturating each review. Now it's been many years, and I anticipate new releases from my favorite directors with a feeling that I used to reserve for new albums as a teenager. I don't think I would have made such a connection to film as a director's medium if I had not found your websites.
So - this article. My grandfather, also named Roger, suffered a stroke just a couple of years ago. Reading about your challenges has been uplifting. It's helped me understand that an automatic sympathy response needn't be the most appropriate, or welcome one. You've recently been dealt a string of poor hands after a lifetime of good ones. You deflect praise for your strength under these circumstances. "What choice do I have?" , but I've witnessed my grandfather unable to overcome his challenges. His condition worsened, he became despondent, stopped therapy, and attempted suicide by garden pond. You'll forgive me for taking the view that perhaps you have made a choice. Enduring disability may not leave much room for negotiation, and this is not something I could understand. But what of your insistence on finding a way to become richer for it ? The lesson I choose is that neither outcome was inevitable.
Reading your articles, and now your blog has been a more rewarding conversation for me than you might know. The only other author I have read in quite the same way has been Vonnegut. He also had a way of writing what he meant regardless of what he wrote about, didn't he?
I hope you keep this up for many years. I think we're all richer for your writing.
In 1977 or thereabouts, I had just returned to this country from Saudi Arabia, where I had lived for 9 years as a child. I was the only person in my family who loved movies; I read about them every chance I could get, and was always starved for more. I didn't have any idea how to feed my fix; we barely had a library in the mid east, and I watched movies in an open air theater less than a mile from the airport, which made it hard to hear when a plane revved its engines. Now I was in a country with TV, an amazing contraption that had a Guide, even, that allowed me to plan a week in advance to see what movies I could watch. That was neat, but I kept wondering what other people thought of movies. I couldn't be the only person who loved them, or there wouldn't be so many of them on the Late Show, right? But the only movie critic I had ever heard of was Rex Reed, who really didn't seem to like movies at all. And any time I found a book on movies or filmmaking, it seemed much different, much less accessible than the feelings I had about pictures.
And then I was flipping through the TV channels when I suddenly came across two....well,unusual looking guys arguing passionately about movies. You two "sneak previewers" were the first people I'd ever seen who talked about movies the way that I wanted to, and I watched you religiously for years. I remember being worried that your move away from PBS would mean you'd gone mainstream, that's how long I've been a fan.
This was all before the internet era. Since I lived in the Bay Area, I never really discovered your writing until the late 80s, when someone told me that you published your reviews in book form. Then in the 90s, I could finally find your reviews in something approaching real-time, with the onset of the Internet. By this time, I didn't watch your TV show much; parenting and work made reading easier than appointment television.
Reading this article reminded me with a shock of how much I miss Gene. He really was brutally funny, and the two of you were great together.
Anyway, the internet makes it much easier to talk about movies with other geeks like me, but even before the Internet I had fixed that problem by giving birth to a movie geek. When I first met my son's college flatmates, one of them said, "I hear you're the reason we let your son manage the Netflix queue." So unto the next generation it goes.
Thanks for the trip, and thanks for the reminder of the good times past.
"Cue ball in the side pocket!" Very funny (and sweet), I had never seen that before...Thanks for being so honest, as you always are.
Your comment that few people discussed your weight with you reminded me of an old appearance you had on the Howard Stern show where he searched for a scale to weigh you. As always, you were a good sport and made for some entertining radio...I always enjoyed you appearances on his show as one of the few guests to match his honesty and sense of humor.
Good morning Roger,
I have always wondered if there was a common element which caused both you and Gene to get head and neck cancer. I remember reading that John Wayne and Susan Hayworth were stricken with cancer while making a movie in the southwest. The disease also touched many of the crew as well.
Wish that cancer could be eliminated in our lifetime. If you ever decide to write a memoir, this entry would be a marvelous first chapter.
Judy Shuster
I see you removed the incorrect James Cagney photo, but why'd you replace him with James Carville?
Good for you. Your post invokes two great movie quotes...why can't I be made of stone like these....(the great Charles Laughton as Quasimodo...)and...live fast, die young, have a good looking corpse (John Derek...the name of the film escapes me)
Anyone who owns a mirror will eventually learn that Time is a cruel master.
Roger, a wonderful entry. This also reminds me of one of my favorite Twilight Zone episodes, "Eye of the Beholder." Have you seen it? It's about a woman who has gone through numerous unsuccessful operations to make her face look "normal," and in this futuristic society, she has only one last surgery left before "the state" will make her go live with "people of her own kind." The entire episode is shot so that you can't see the faces of the doctors or nurses in the hospital. Then comes one of the great denouements of the series and gives special meaning to the phrase "beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
I would trade about a hundred of our current "talking TV heads" for every one of you. OK, maybe I'd keep Charlie Rose..... Stay well and don't stop writing.
Roger, you are a man of passion, altruism, and honesty: the best kind of human being. To say you're an inspiration would be an understatement. Thank you for continuing to write so prolifically. Your voice may not be sonorous, but it rings loud and clear regardless.
I feel a little awkward suggesting this, so please forgive me if it comes off as impolite, but why not change your picture on rogerebert.com to your post-op photo? You might think you look like the Phantom of the Opera, but what I see in that picture is the spirit of everything you write about. And that, dear friend, is sexy.
Don't let it get to your head, though; you're no Claudia Cardinale...but you're close.
Damn close.
Hey, I've been fat most of my life. Vain I'm not. My theory is I don't have to look at me other people do. If they have a problem with my weight or looks, it's their problem not mine.
I appreciate the writing you have done lately, with its reflection and honesty. This is very likely some of the best stuff you have written.
As for your memories of Gene, I think I have mentioned this before in another blog, but when I think of the relationship the two of you seem to have shared, I think of the episode of the animated show "The Critic" in which you split up and pined for each other after the breakup. For some reason I see this as a not unrealistic portrait of the two of you.
Ebert: That very episode is linked at the bottom of the blog.
Great post, although of course I don't buy the Phantom thing either. My sister in law (once removed or something) has been undergoing the aftermath of salivary gland cancer. All stories are different, but hers has been very life changing also.
Whenever I explain to someone that I learned of a movie through your site (like Son of Rambow), I always tell them that the number one thing to remember is that you love movies. The bickering and banter with Gene Siskel helped make that show work. He was the aesthete to your everyman often. Persnickety to a fault, but also loveable and cherished. I had to rebuild trust for both of you after The Grifters. I truly loathed that movie. As I have matured I have of course learned that reasonable and unreasonable minds can disagree. The two of you were very much competing working critics. The tension was not faked, but the relationship worked and deepened over time.
Thank you for getting back to work, and thanks to Chaz for sharing you with us.
Roger,
I'm really saddened at the seeming viciousness of Mr. Siskel's comments. I'd have a hard time being friends with someone who spoke to me that way. (I am a reporter for a small Northeast daily and I am obese.) It sounds like you gave as good as you got. I can only guess that affection between you softened the tough comments, at least some of the time. I must add that I began watching you on the PBS show in the late 70s and reading your work in the 80s, when I bought my first collection of your reviews. I never thought of you as the fat one. You were the one with the Pulitzer.
All my best.
Dan
Ebert: The truth is, it never really bothered me. When we gave speeches, it was an always dependable schtick. The best kind of laugh, as Jack Benny demonstrated, is when a character trait is so well known that all you have to do is stand there. Benny: "Fine, fine, Alfredo. How much will that be?" Barber: "Five dollars, Mr. Benny." Benny turns and stares impassively at the audience.
One of the most touching things I've ever heard was Gene's statement when you two spoke at my school. Gene said that he had been certain in his college days that he was going to end up like us, "followed by death in Westchester County." He was so happy to have found something he loved even though he never appeared to enjoy a second of it on screen. He always looked liked he was doing the job because he thought that no one smarter than him could be found and there was a certain noblesse oblige to criticism. (And I liked the guy.)
I sent a general email the other day asking you to write a book with all those behind-the-scenes stories you have with Gene, and lo and behold here's a blog post with a bunch. Thanks! This way it's free. :)
I recall reading the article you wrote the day after Oprah revealed she went with syndication on your suggestion, and that it included a great story about you and Gene appearing on her talk show in Philadelphia(?) and how he pleaded with you not to laugh at the ridiculous guest that preceded you because it would no doubt set him off as well, and I'm wondering if you've got any more in that vein... i.e. funny times when the two of you were off doing the talk show circuit. I love seeing the behind-the-scenes of TV from yours and Gene's not-from-Hollywood not-really-"stars"-ourselves perspective.
Best regards,
Steve in River Falls, Wisconsin
Favorite exchange:
Roger (giving a thumbs up to a movie Gene didn't like).: "I enjoyed myself."
Gene: "You always enjoy yourSELF. It's the movie I didn't like."
Good luck. God bless.
Roger,
I grew up in Chicago, and our family always got the Sun-Times. Every Sunday, the television guide that came with the paper featured a column by you describing what to watch for in the coming week. That was in the pre-cable, pre-VCR days when viewing choices were limited. Even though I was in grade school and couldn't stay up to see many of the films, I always read what you had to say, because your love for movies was so strong. I can still remember bits of a column you wrote praising "The Third Man", referring to the greatest entrance ever filmed. Years later, when I finally saw it, I leaned forward in expectation when the cat appeared.
I feel fortunate to have grown up in the presence of a critic whose knowledge of and passion for film was evident in everything he wrote and continues to write. Your voice is as strong as it ever was.
Roger:
Wonderful post. If I can tell my own tale, or that of my now-deceased mother, she had two brain tumors that were the result of ever-shifting lung cancer. She was dimunitive in size, but had a voracious appetite for reading, learning, and debating her son. When the tumor was diagnosed, within weeks, my mother starting losing the ability to communicate. It is not as if she could not think, but she could not communicate what she wanted to say. She had brain surgery to remove one of the tumors on her frontal lobe and within hours of her operation, she was speaking again. I asked her if she couldn't THINK of what to say, or that she could think but just could not SAY what she wanted. She said it was that she could not think, and that was troublesome beyond anyone's reckoning. The punch-line to this is that she developed a staph infection from the surgery and that was the reason for her death though the cancer was the cause. The second punch-line (as if any good joke ever has two) is that my mom's twin sister was diagnosed with lung cancer within weeks of my mother having been diagnosed with the same. Both met the same fate within relative months of one another.
I rekindle this story to you, Mr. Ebert, because clearly you have the ability to communicate, and I think that your writing on this blog particulary has been the best of your life, or at least the small portion that I have had the privilege to share. In your role as a journalist, you are a fact and opinion man discussing someone else's work. On this blog, you are reporting about yourself. That is why I find your writing fascinating. This is not fiction. This is life, this is humanity, this is honesty and this is you: a person that I have grown up listening to, watching, reading and the like. I pity those who only looked to your for a mere thumb up or down.
So, keep mixing it up. More crock-pot recipes, religion (crack-pots) discussion, travel tales and history topics (title for a new book by your perhaps related to your foray into the blogosphere: Crock-pots and Crack-pots). Keep telling us which movies suck (and why some of us do too). You have a loyal reader here. And I still think a documentary about Siskel and Ebert would win awards.
I think there's a certain freedom in being "the monster." I know who my friends are and why they like me. I know I am loved for things inside me that are immutable and intrinsic to me. No diet or scalpel can ever remove them.
This body of mine may be scarred and battered but it belongs to me and I am learning to live in it. It contains a universe of wonders and is filled with stories and knowledge of value. I thank you for reminding me of that.
Roger, you've struck accord with me. I consider myself to be one of Lon Chaney's biggest fans and I've seen all of what is left of his filmography. I think I should leave with this quote from Lon which sums up perfectly what you've said here
"But to wear your real face and make it look presentable — now that's a job and a half!"
You are no Phantom, sir -- unless one considers the way you "kill" at writing reviews.
Be well. It's getting far too crowded here.
"Roger,
I still don't understand why you can't talk or eat. I have a tracheotomy and can do both. And as you mentioned, you are being fitted for a prosthetic jaw. So unless you no longer have any control of your tongue, or your vocal chords are damaged, you should be fine.
Please explain.
Ebert: I have three surgeries intended to repair me, and all three failed, To quote the President-Elect: "And that's all you're gonna get out of me."
Ebert: If I could talk or eat, believe me, I would."
I am not the first to ask you this question on your blog and you still haven't explained WHY you can't do either of those things. As a fellow tracheotomy patient I must know!... Please? :-)
Did you really like Benji, the Hunted?
Ebert: Uh, huh. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcTPQZ9jR0I
The one co-host I had always wished I'd see on your TV show after Gene died was Jay Sherman. The reasons why it was unlikely to ever have been done seem obvious to me, but still it just seemed like it would have been so appropriate after the episode of "The Critic" with the two of you. I am curious though, if it was something you ever thought about doing.
Long ago I learned that if Roger Ebert liked a movie, I would enjoy it, too. So I'm very happy that he's still reviewing movies despite his health troubles.
On a self-indulgent note: Looking at Mr. Ebert's 1969 picture, I remember that I once was certain I sat next to him at Northwestern's Tech Auditorium in the early 70s, watching, I believe, The Wizard of Oz. A possible brush with fame for me.
This blog entry seems particularly appropriate for me to finally get around to thanking you for the many contributions your gifts of writing and film commentary have brought to my life. I have been watching and reading your reviews for at least 25 years and even exchanged e-mails with you during the CompuServe era.
So many great films I perhaps would never have seen without your input: My Dinner With Andre, Do The Right Thing, The Accidental Tourist, One False Move, House of Games, The Third Man, My Left Foot, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, The Purple Rose of Cairo (well, I would have seen this anyway because of my deep appreciation for Mr. Allen's work), etc.
Although you have suffered tremendously, I hope you realize how many of us out there are truly grateful that you can continue to write and offer insights in all arenas of life.
My very best to you and your wife. Thanks again.
p.s. I went to Rules in London with my wife on our honeymoon and have returned several times since then. Can't say we ordered the same things, however.
What a lovely, self-reflective piece. As someone with major confidence issues, and only the power of very lukewarm abilities at self-deprecation, this was very inspiring. Thank you sir!
Reply to: Ebert: His remarks actually didn't offend me at all. My remark was intended as a zinger and he one-upped me by being nice, the bastard. He offered more than once to lay off on the talk shows, but I didn't want to lose the material.
Exactly.
I've been working on an upcoming TV show, and right now, the most successful network shows have "conflict, conflict and more conflict" with a cliffhanger before every commercial break. Although "American Idol" is in a different category completely, the bickering between Simon, Paula and Randy is really the heart of the show.
A successful new show is "The Mentalist," where the title character... well, I guess he used to be a "Ghost Whisperer," pretending to deliver messages from dead relatives, when in fact he was reading facial cues.
That's what Americans lack today. The ability to study a strange set of facts and figure out the Correct Answer. We've been trained to memorize and recite, memorize and recite, to the detriment of problem-solving.
To me, it was pretty obvious that you enjoyed Gene's remarks. In part, because it gave you permission to zing him right back. Consciously or not, you realized that "good television" requires at least two different opinions, and "better television" allows the debate to turn into a Title Fight. If only that Richard Roeper wasn't such a sweet, innocent kid...
The saying 'live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse' never appealed to me. It might appeal to someone like Jeffrey Dahmer though. (quote is from Knock on any door with Bogart)
When Quasimodo says 'why was I not made of stone--like thee' to a gargoyle it was because his heart was broken.
It's not just time that is cruel, it's people.
(no offense to p derby)
Thank you, Mr. Ebert, for your reviews over the years. If it wasn't for your enthusiasm for Cinema Paradiso I never would have dragged myself down to Wilmette to see it. The theater was old and seemed the perfect setting for the movie.
I know some people who would never see any movie you liked because you never seemed to like the movies they did. They miss out on a lot of good movies and that's sad. Movies are great way to tell a story and there are still a lot of good stories to tell. I wish Hollywood would get a clue and stop making same old *&%# over and over again.
looking at the pictures where you're with your friends, i was curious how you handle critiquing work they're in. Danza was in Angels in the Outfield, which you hated, and Mategna was in Baby's Day Out, also a bad flick. what do you do as a critic when you're faced with trashing a film a friend is in? have they ever spoken to you about it afterwards? i always got the feeling that both were down to earth men and probably just realized you were doing your job, but i still find it curious.
cheers
KZ
Ebert: But Mantegna starred in "House of Games," which I thought was the year's best film, and, after all, "Baby's Day Out" ran for more than a year in Calcutta. As for Tony, he was, after all, on "Taxi" and in "Crash" and is a very good sport. Once on his talk show he had me star in a sketch trashing his "She's Out of Control." Siskel really disliked that film: http://www.truveo.com/Shes-Out-of-Control-1989-Siskel-Eberts-Review/id/1688570005
We're all blessed with an increase in your output, especially this blog, but I wonder about your communications in daily life, for instance in person with Chaz? Do you write on a pad for her, answering her questions or asking her stuff? I know some married couples talk less to each other over time, but you don't strike me as that type.
Ebert: Notes, computer voice, e-mail, mime, signaling, drawing letters on my palm...and sometimes all it takes is a wink.
Roger,
You are a healing person. You came out of a few difficult years with a greater love for life and knowing how best to live it, being determined to continue doing what you love like writing and communicating with people about the movies, and having a sense of humor.
I will be 34 in January and I have not yet faced health problems. In 30 years when I have to start struggling through health problems, I am going to think about you because I know that will get me through difficult times.
On another note, there has been a lot of Gene Siskel bashing on the internet in recent years. I have been viewing Siskel and Ebert reviews on You Tube (many of them I have not seen since my childhood), and I must say that the bashing is unfair. Gene was sharp, bright, energetic, and always had interesting things to say. It is amazing that it has almost been ten years since he died. Time goes by so quickly. I think about Gene every time I watch Sideways. It is a film I think he would have loved had he lived to see it. It is the first film I would have him watch if he came back to life. Gene was one of my childhood idols along with you and Woody Allen, and I miss him.
I don't care what you look like, nor do most others, I do believe it's safe to say. Your gift is your mind, your voice, (with or without your other voice), and your words. Nothing, not even cancer, can change that. Not even death. But I'm sure you know that.
Actually, to be frank, I think you look a lot more like Jimmy Carter than any incarnation of the Phantom.
And, as usual, your words are inspiring, thoughtful, and a joy to read.
I appreciate the fact you're still providing first-rate movie reviews. You've always been my favorite film critic, and please know that your writing brings pleasure to many. I don't have anything witty or inspiring to say, but do know that you are a major influence on the lives of many movie lovers. I sincerely wish you the best in your medical challenges.
Also, (and this may surprise you), but I thought I should tell you that not only are you invaluable to movie watchers, but to screenwriters and (hopefully) future filmmakers like me. I realize there's that unwritten rule in Hollywood where you're never supposed to like or even acknowledge critics, (even those with a Pulitzer apparently), but I've used yours and others' reviews as a guide of what and what not to do. In fact, I think your reviews should be mandatory in ALL film classes. After all: film is art, and art has no purpose without discussion. Personally, I'd rather you HATED my film than have absolutely no opinion at all. But unfortunately, most filmmakers don't see it that way. Unless they're truly a critic, (and I don't even mean professionally, but as a film lover), they're either cranking out mindless entertainment, usually as a hired hand, or they have no clue what it is they're really trying to achieve. And if you have no concept of what DOESN'T work, how will you know when something DOES work?
Roger,
It seems all your bloggers are both eloquent and exceedingly kind, God love them. So without further ado...
1. I showed your photo to my minature schanuzer and he grew another five inches just to protect himself.
2. I unfolded your picture while backstage at the Music Hall and shouted "Mwa-ha-ha" and the soprano ingenue instantly fell in love with me and took me to the basement for fun and games. Afterwards I was chased through the sewers of Fort Worth by an angry mob.
3. I emailed your photo anonymously to various addresses on the World Wide Web and we had a world wide recession. See what global despair will do?
4. I had your photo tattoed on my back and people keep giving me the shirts off theirs.
5. I placed it next to me at a scrabble tournament and I got nothing but all vowels for the duration of my play. All I could put down were the names of Hawaian taxi drivers and they are not allowed.
6. I posted it in my front yard where I live in a far right, ultraconservative neighborhood and my neighbors have been dropping by with cookies and leaving little conciliatory notes that read "You know, Obama's not so bad after all."
Vaya con Dios,
Kerry
Ebert: That's funny. I showed your photo to God and he filed a plea of nolo contendere.
Zing! went the string of my heart.
Ha! Go ahead and use lawyer speak. You can't hurt me. I've already been hurt. When you ask? Well no you don't but enough about you. I am hurt by a western genre in such a bad state that the last time I checked Barnes and Noble my books were tucked away in the Men's room. And I didn't even get the top urinals. Those went to Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey!
K.
I'm 25 and I've been wearing jeans and a white t-shirt just about every single day for about the past 9 years. But if I could shop in Thailand that would probably change.
The comments seem to have shifted to your 'feud' with Gene Siskel, and set me to wondering: it seems that the notion that two strong personalities must clash, preferably with as much visible hostility as possible, has been a part of all human endeavors for as long as there have been human endeavors. So long as the fangs are bared and the epithets snarled in public... well, who cares if the two of you go out for a beer afterward? Public hostilities are the meal that the tabloids feed on; feuding trumps friendship every time. It's as if people want to believe that the couple can't get along. We see it everywhere: in show business, politics, sports, domestic life. The tabs, cable news,gossip columns, all can't wait to make a wisecrack into total warfare. Ever wonder if today's tabloid mentality would have tried to turn the Jack Benny-Fred Allen joke feud into thr real thing? /*/*/ Oh, by the way... I saw MATINEE when it came out and loved it. But you'll recall that was mainly about the kids. I was talking about about doing the real William Castle, as he portrayed his exploits in his autobiogarphy, fanciful though some of it may have been. I don't count "sorta"; I'm kinda funny that way.
" Ebert: I have three surgeries intended to repair me, and all three failed, To quote the President-Elect: 'And that's all you're gonna get out of me.'"
Sigh. Tried my best I guess.
Ebert: If i had succeeded, I understand why as a fellow tracheostomy owner you would want to know. But as I did not, why do you need to know?
I like the photo of you which displays your remarkable resemblance to Parley Baer.
Why did you get a Hollywood star and Lon Chaney, Jr. is still waiting? Where's the justice? Oh yeah, I forgot you are in fact Lon Chaney, Sr.
For Christ's sake Ebert, I didn't think you were going to look that good. No offense, my man, but I'm not seeing a major diminution of your allegedly stunning good looks.
In any case, even though you can't talk, I'm glad you can still write. Keep it up. Go to Mass.
That Kerry of Inframan commentor is an ugly scoungrel of a human being, but not you Roger. The beautiful, decent soul that you are. God bless.
Ebert: Kerry of Inframan is only funnin'.
RX.: "Keep it up. Go to Mass."
Well, as a semi-irregular Mass-goer myself, I can imagine worse advice. Then again, I'm reminded of the Emily Dickinson verses:
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at home –
With a Bobolink for a Chorister –
And an Orchard, for a Dome –
God preaches, a noted Clergyman –
And the sermon is never long.
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –
I’m going, all along.
Substitute "seeing a movie" for "staying at home," and I think you've got the worship thing covered, Roger. Have a good weekend.
Ebert. Emily is sublime.
Look back on time with kindly eyes,
He doubtless did his best;
How softly sinks his trembling sun
In human nature’s west!
Well, the first photo I saw upon the Return of Ebert was of you in a blazer, with no glasses but with a big smile. And since I mistook your bandage for a silk scarf, you looked to me like a jolly member of some exclusive yacht club, a kind of Thurston Howell III.
So although Lon Chaney is the more prestigious actor, I'm afraid simply don't see you any Phantom in you, and instead persist in seeing you now as a kind of Jim Backus billionaire.
Whether that's a good thing, or not...???
While your reviews are easy to follow ,the blogs are difficult for an Indian.American language seems different.Indian's expression is laboured---one tragedy of being Indian is pollyglottism---one which I was painfully aware--one is a jack in two or three languages.English,the language I read for 60 years still remains a stranger.The mother tongue(s) I did not study in depth nor it has the power of English.....like French totin' Russians in some novels....other nationalities may have similar dilemmas....
I'm so glad to find out that Werner Herzog is a wonderful person because that's actually the impression I always had of him.
I think the way I got it was the short "Werner Eats His Shoe", where he comes off as the single nicest and most likable person you'd ever want to know. It's nothing he does in particular; he just inspires instant affection.
He reminded me a little of my father in a way, with his good humor, kind heart and inherent honesty. Although I think that if my father had ever met him, he'd regard him as an escaped lunatic.
There are numerous Englishes--english english,american ,indian etc--I guess one needs to "own" one's tongue as one's own----whether its cradle tongue,school tongue or learned tongue---man is a learning animal---this blog has been my best language lesson...
"Call me a duffer, but I only got one reference for sure: A bit of dialogue from the now-almost forgotten Nicholas Roeg film, The Witches."
Mr. Henry was referring to your reference to cockaleekie soup, which does show up in a similar monologue to what you wrote in "The Witches" (The soup is spiked with a potion to transform children into mice, if my memory serves me).
I actually thought of "The Witches" too when I read that, although I can easily believe it's just a coincidence.
Dear Roger: I was a big fan of Siskel and Ebert.
I am a 41-year old brain cancer survivor, and I'm doing surprisingly well.
I just want you to know that the way you have handled your illness is inspiring. And I read your reviews faithfully.
Thanks for keeping us informed on how you are doing.
And I hope you don't mind me asking, but as a a brain cancer survivor, can you tell me what kind of a brain tumor Mr. Siskel had?
Ebert: He kept that private.
Reading about the back and forth banter between you and Gene reminded me of how I discovered your show on PBS in December of 1978, seeing two men passionately discuss films. I lived in a small town at the time and this was the first exposure I had to world cinema. I couldn't see the films where I lived, they weren't shown on TV and the home video market didn't even exist back then. But by watching your show and the brief scenes that were shown, I felt like I had gotten a taste of the actual experience and knew that I wanted to live somewhere so that I could see those films on a regular basis.
While you did a tremendous job highlighting these films, the show was also an incredible forum to witness for the discussions. If you and Gene agreed on a film, it would be a love fest. However, if you disagreed, especially on a high-profile release, it became something else altogether. Around late 1979 and early 1980, the arguments would become so intense, I swear it looked like you two were going to start throwing punches at each other. A few years later, the two of you seem to manage to calmly discuss your differences, but the apparent passion never faded.
I am glad to see that passion still survives in you, as you have continued to be an inspiration to me for almost 30 years.
Stunningly good writting, as usual.
You know, Mr Ebert, I've been a fan of yours since before I even realized it. Back when I was a wee shaver in the 1980's, I remember watching your show. Well, you and Mr Siskel. I did it initially to see the clips of upcoming movies, but after a while I started to watch the show for its own sake.
Then along came the internet, with the archives of your reviews, and I began to understand that much as I enjoyed you on television, in print you were even better. Through your reviews, your writtings and your commentaries on DVDs, I have become a better film fan, learning to appreciate movies like The Third Man, Citizen Kane, The 400 Blows, Sunrise, and others. I've come to appreciate the magic that certain directors work behind the camera, and I've learned to understand a lot of the language of cinema.
Now I fancy myself something of a reviewer. I write reviews and post them up on Amazon. I did well enough with them that Amazon invited me to join a program called Vine, where myself and others get sent things by Amazon to review them. Additionally I write reviews of movies, TV shows and DVDs on my blog. Inspired by you, I've even started a "Greatest Films" section of my blog.
I don't care what you look like, and you certainly aren't Phantom-esque (another movie I saw because of you, by the way). I think it a pity you've lost your speaking ability, because I truly treasured the few commentaries you have done. I'd know far less about a movie like Dark City without your commentary on it.
Thank you for creating this blog. Thank you for sharing with us articles like this. Thank you for being an inspiration to myself and others. Thank you for continuing to work that litterary magic you work ever so well.
This discussion reminds me of the recent passing of Steve Gerber, the iconoclastic comic book writer who gave the world "Howard The Duck," among many other things.
Yes, it was Steve's bad luck to be the creator of something that became Hollywood shorthand for "failure," but marvelous insofar as it was exactly the kind of thing that would have happened to one of his own characters, an irony I'm sure he appreciated.
Gerber battled a pulmonary disease towards the end and, although he was unfailingly optimistic about the future, he was also realistic about his chances.
He was a computer geek from way back and loved being online. He often communicated with fans by answering online questions and posting updates on his work and his health. We followed his long battle to have his name placed on the list of patients who were eligible for a lung transplant and rejoiced when he succeeded.
There was a gap in the posts at one point and when he returned, Steve informed us he'd been taken to the hospital on an emergency basis. This didn't seem to put a crimp in his attitude, however. We all understood that this news wasn't good, but Steve was busy trying to meet the deadline of his latest comic from his hospital bed.
Soon afterwards, of course, the posting stopped. And there was someone else posting now, explaining what had happened.
Now as much as I would have been gutted by hearing about his death by any means, the strange and unlikely intimacy that the web affords us, allowing us to rub shoulders with artists and creators we probably would never have met otherwise, made this hit home all the more. He was someone I'd worshipped for years, but now he was also the man who, though attacked by illness, was kind enough to talk to me.
I am always impressed by the bravery of the human race. As the poet Charles Bukowski put it, "Who put this brain inside of me? It says that there is a chance. It will not say no." Such people make us all want to work a little harder and a little better. I would include you in their number, Mr. E. All the best,
RG
I don’t know if this will make you feel better, but I always thought "Siskel & Ebert" was regarded as “the fat one and the bald one.” Siskel may have had the body of Adonis, but you could trump that with your immaculately coiffed head of hair.
My Mom died from a long battle with adnocystic fibroid cancer, which systematically destroyed her beautiful face--caving in her nose, subsuming one eye, and finally planting a baseball-sized tumor on her forehead. I was always stunned by the unintentional cruelty she was exposed to because of her appearance. Families in restaurants, with parents who seemed reasonably engaged in supporting acceptable public behavior, would let their kids sit there and stare gape-mouthed while my Mom tried to ignore their gazes. (I even actually had to tell a few kids to turn around, making me feel like a big jerk.) It got to the point where she just didn't want to fool with going out in public much. I don't think Mom ever learned how to reconcile the fact that she had become less attractive on the outside, while flowering to her fullest on the inside.
You, however, don't have that problem. For starters, you just don't look that bad...look pretty good, in fact, especially for a guy who's nearly died and gone through all that you have. (Trust me, I've seen worse.)
Furthermore, I've noticed that in your recent photos, you've got this gleam in your eye that I never caught before. It seems to be the look of a man who's grateful to still be here and who's learned what's really sustaining in this life. Or, as George Potter put it, "Zu Zu petals! Zu Zu petals!"
This Thanksgiving I'm grateful that Roger Ebert is BACK and has his writing gear in overdrive!
I debated with myself as to whether I would respond to this. Here's a silver lining, if that means anything:
Without getting into details, our son became very ill around the same time you did. At one point, we were preparing ourselves for life without him. We still have him, thankfully, but our trials continue.
One of the things I did during those long hours in the University of Chicago's Children's Hospital was go to your site for updates on your health. When you and Chaz made the decision to go public with your new look, we were inspired.
We get stares all the time, and it is not easy. But it is a little less difficult knowing that if our friend Roger Ebert can deal with it, so can we.
So much of your writing of late is about your blessings.
Disguised in these stories of Gene and pictures of your friends is an account of the physical changes in your person.
You're not fooling anyone; you're telling us this to give us comfort as we worry about you. Pity is anethema to you, Roger. You won't go gently; but you won't let us suffer unduly.
Perhaps you're understanding more now that you got through to us, that what you write strikes a chord in to people who love to read. I mean it was never "Steve's my barber, Oscar's my mechanic, and Roger's my movie guy." You're more than that.
When a person writes well on a subject he's passionate about, it's a blessing. Think how you miss Studs Turkel!
Now we have this Internet vehicle, a mixed blessing, at best. It allows us to contact those with a measure of celebrity. Imagine if Elvis had started a blog! So, somewhere between the professionals that enhance our lives (who we can tip, at least) and the men of arts that we invite in through papers, books, the Tube, and--hallelujah-- the movies, a little message in a bottle travels over the Web to someone you to say thank you. To wish you well.
I recall you and Gene arguing over your reviews of Halloween III: Season of the Witch. The passion of your arguments is what I remember, not the movie. The blog today helps me understand that emotion and why I remember it.
Finally managed to wade through to the end of your beautiful essay.
If cinema be the Shakespeare of the 20th century,there seems a wealth of metaphor for human suffering------ deformity ,sickness,discord,incompatibility,psychosis----testifying to the buddhist teaching that suffering is a concominant of life,as universal as death itself.Cinema ,it seems,has been rather more successful in portraying the darker extremities of experience......the girl nailing the walls in Silence/Lambs,the old father thrown out of a window in Pianist,the victims and their families in Dead Man Walking.....no fairy tales.
I recenntly read about the famous opening four note motif in Beethoven's 5th( also the opening bars of the movie Amadeus),which the composer is said to have interpreted as "fate knocking at the door".Fate ofcourse for him was impending deafness,which drove him to the edge of suicide.However as if from the bowels of life,the composer could summon the strength ,not only the will to live but a power to transform his adversity into the aforementioned work of music.
I believe that depth of life can only come from confronted adversity.Adversity is truly fate knocking the door ,the decisive moment ,the bell tolling,a Rubicon,like O'Toole in his most famous film, lost in inward reverie on the sand,contemplating the crossover to Accaba.......Ebert doesn't seem to have done badly by himslf.....first sublimating (bigger fish to fry) his no doubt painful weight problem into not unmonumental creativity and a solid Lebenswerk .....and now....
The heroic aspect is surely the best of life...more than the the contemplative.....
You have always been The Word in the film realm, to me. I could not have cared less about your appearance. That you can still communicate via text, and that technology has wrought blogs -- for this I am grateful.
Thanks for so much. I wish you the best.
I can only reiterate that your blog is one of the best I read regularly, and your lack of speech seems to have liberated your writing to soar.
Thanks for the clips. You and Gene have that Chicago-style speech rhythm and sense of humor that makes me homesick for St. Louis.
I'd forgotten how much I loved that episode of "The Critic" (when will that series get to DVD?). Again, you and Gene had one point in common: Neither of you could sing your way out of a paper bag.
As Rick Redfern noted, "Historical figures don't need Botox."
I just noticed something, shouldn't the title of this post be Siskel & Ebert at the Jugular? It works on both levels, see? Your show was S & E at the Movies, and you were constantly at each others throats (i.e. jugulars)!
Oh wait, unless the jugular was in reference to your missing jaw? But the post spends as much, or more time, on your "feud" with Gene than with your appearance.
I have to admit that I was a Siskel fan when I watched the show (loved the Muppets take off on it, and actually, Statler and Waldorf reminded me of you two). It wasn't until I read one of your movie review books that I got past the sniping on TV and (I'll own it) the weight. You did seem at time (on the show) to be trying to teach Gene something, only he wouldn't listen.... I really liked the tension between the two of you and I assumed it was pumped solely for the camera. You both walked a fine line of keeping the conflict alive but not making it the focus of the show. Looking back, it could only have come from a deep friendship between peers with strong opinions. TV is lacking that now.
I think you look like you are enjoying your life in all your pictures. That in itself is a great blessing.
Below are comments I had for the Musing My Mind essay but I think they fit here too.
I know a blind man. Met him in 1985. He was born with sight but it deteriorated as he matured. My classmate asked him if it is true that blind people have keener hearing. He said no. It is just that he has to rely on his hearing. He said my classmate and I probably had the same level of hearing as he did but we didn't use it because we can combine/use our other senses. He learned a little Braille but said he has to function in a sighted world. I learned how to guide him (ahead five steps up, hand rail on the right). He also had a distinct sense of presence. He could actually give driving directions and knew if the driver made a wrong turn. He knew which hiway he was on, direction the car was headed, street name, intersection, etc. He would actually point in the direction of friends' homes. He and his wife worked at the same company. He continued working ten years after she retired. He teaches Sunday School (types the lesson and notes himself). He also watches television. Yes, he says he watched, looked at, or saw a televsion program, movie, news.
He has not seen his wife and son in over 20 years. Has never seen his daughter-in-law and grandchildren, or me and my classmate. He does not know if his goatee is straight or if the barber gave him a nice haircut or how gray his hair is.
What I've learned is the only thing he can't do is see (and drive a car, pilot a plane). Physically see. His vision is clear. He said he was a little sad when his sight faded but he kept on with his life and career.
So, dear one, keep on with your life and career. The only thing you can't do is talk (or eat, or drink.) Physically talk. Your regular readers are not concerned with your looks. As long as Mrs. Ebert can prop you up to the Mac and your typing fingers work I'll be alright. You are still teaching us about movies. And with the blog you are teaching us about life.
Peace in.
Peace out.
It may be happenstance, but it seems to me that when you quote Gene Siskel his sentiments often ring shallow. For example:
"Roger, when I need to amuse myself," he said, "I stroll down the sidewalk reflecting that every person I pass thought they looked just great when they walked out of their house this morning."
Did Mr. Siskel really lack the depth of understanding that would have informed him that many people actually awake, do the best we can with what we have in regard to our appearance, recognize that we aren't show-stoppers and then open our front doors anyway, resolved to avoid mirrors and concentrate instead on the fish we intend to fry, large or small, in the hope that others will be merciful?
Many of us don't look particularly great when we leave our homes in the morning, despite our best efforts, and it brings my own heart no particular joy to imagine that Mr. Siskel found material in that when he "needed to amuse himself."
As for your own determination to get on with life: I wish you all the best. When our time is up and we're weighed in some final balance (if there is one) something tells me our measures as human beings will not be calculated in pounds or kilograms and your movie reviews have been a gift in my own life, the thanks for which I'd never be able to express without what would sound like wild exaggeration.
Roger, it is a pleasure to just say hello,and I have watched and read you for many years.We have never met,but I feel you are a friend.
Many years ago,while on duty as a police officer I was shot,and the bullet entered behind the lobe of my left ear,and traveled through the base of my skull,and made an exit at the top of my jaw,just below my right sideburn.As a result of a few cranial nerves being damaged, I lost my ability to speak with any volume (now somewhat corrected),lost my ability to taste and to smell. I enjoy food,and I guess as far as taste and smell, I use my memory,and also the texture of the food is now so important.But, oh how I miss the smell of fresh cut grass,morning rain, my wife's subtle skin smell,and more.
My point is, I was given a second chance at life, as I survived this ordeal, at age thirty three,and now at the age of sixty four, I still work in emergency services,and I have wonderful opportunities to help persons ill or injured.What a wonderful life it has been.
And now you have entered a special phase in your life,and you are helping thousands of folks with your inspiring words,and your bravery to carry on with your life.You share your very "being" with us all,and it is a tribute to your goodness.
I salute you,and wish you many more years, doing, and living, for all that is important to you,good sir.
Cheers!
Ebert: I think I remember certain tastes more sharply than I ever consciously experienced them. "You don't know what you've got, till it's gone." (Joni Mitchell)
Roger,
Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Thanks also for watching all of those thousands of films and giving us an idea what to expect before we go to the theater. I don't always agree with your reviews, but I always appreciate them. They're honest. They benefit from not only your great intellect and knowledge of film history, but also from your humanity, including your emotional and spiritual dimensions.
I hope we'll be reading new Rober Ebert film reviews for a long time.
"Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to victorie!
Now’s the day, and now’s the hour:
See the front o’ battle lour,....."
(Burns)
Personally, looking at that "After" photo, I think you look less like the Phantom (or Jimmy Carter) and more like Eleanor Roosevelt.
Loved the quote at the end; it explains more about human nature in a few seconds than most sermons or lectures could in an hour.
Thank you for the peek behind the curtain, and for all the continuing observations and advice on movies to see (or not). I appreciate all the time you've spent to save some of ours. Wish we could return the favor...
Dear me, Roger, what a very nice and quaint museum that is of Sir John Soane's. The passageways look narrow, but just look at that domed glass ceiling!! (For those interested, see link below for a 360-degree view):
http://www.britishtours.com/360/soane-museum.html
This is something that a London itinerary shouldn't miss.
Ebert: What a great link that is! And it doesn't even get to the first floor. Also through that site I took a virtual look at Dr. Johnson's House (many's the time I stood next to that statue of his cat) and Haddon Hall.
Any chance you'll eventually get around to reviewing "The Ninth Configuration" as Scott Wilson has a major starring role in it? (I always wondered what you'd make of that movie.)
Dear Roger,
Yes, Adam J is right about the cockaleekie soup in "The Witches." It was just before the rumpus in the kitchen where Luke (now turned into a mouse) had his tail cut off by the chef, and where he also inadvertently got himself inside the pants of the selfsame man.
Bill Paterson, who played Luke's father, wanted to have his Cockaleekie Soup changed into Cress Soup; the latter containing a generous amount of potion capable of turning people, and witches, into mice.
The waiter Mr. JP Henry was referring to is Rowan Atkinson, better known as Mr. Bean (also Blackadder). For people the likes of me, films like Nicolas Roeg's "The Witches" will never be forgotten.
It's nice to get to know you a bit better, Roger. I'm a film student (well, barely) and have often consulted your writings; not just to see if I feel like spending 10 dollars on a movie, but to know more about the art and to find out more about what I like and what I want to do in film.
I normally feel little but disdain for celebrities I read about, even those with strong afflictions, but when I read that you were having surgery, I found myself hoping for your recovery, which seems to have come.
So here's to hoping for health, happiness and the dream that one day I will make a movie you will write about.
I have to admit I wish that your blog was around when I was younger, and needed the help in shrugging off fat jokes. And as a quote unquote victim of similar jokes, may I say I never thought Gene's were malicious in any way shape or form, he just seemed like he was joking around.
Mr. Ebert,
I've become more and more impressed with your writing over the past decade or so. Either you've been getting steadily better, or my tastes have been steadily improving. Add my thanks to the heap you've been getting since the start of this blog.
I have a question about your computer voice. Maybe it's more of a suggestion. With all the hundreds(?) of hours of footage of you from your show and other sources, shouldn't it be possible to create a voice synthesizer for you that uses your actual voice? Thanks to the emotional nature of some of your discussions with your on-screen colleagues, you could perhaps even have the ability for the computer to express ideas in an angry or sarcastic tone. What do you think?
Cheers,
Mike V.
Very nice essay. As another cancer survivor, I am always glad when a talented writer articulates so well how I feel about the cancer changing my life. Thank you, and be well!
Disfigurement figures in a couple of other Chaney movies, The Penalty and The Unknown. It would be nice to be able to say that it was a sign of those times that physical imperfection was linked to psychological twistedness, but sadly, there are all too many examples to prove otherwise.
"Ebert: Voice gone, me here. One out of two not bad."
Wrong. Speech gone. Voice coming in loud and clear in this end.
Years ago, I read that Stan Laurel's wife Ida complimented him on the feature of his that she found most attractive: "Your brain. Your beautiful, beautiful brain." That's what I admire most about you, and it makes you about as handsome as any man on Earth. The outer trappings are superfluous.
I've always thought of you as the smart one. Never the fat one. I miss Gene. I miss you as well on television. Most people don't realize you two agreed more than disagreed. There will never be a better team. Take care of yourself, Roger. We love you. That's a sweeping statement, isn't it? I love you. And I don't even know you, so that should tell you the influence you have. Godspeed.
It's worth pointing out that Lon Chaney's Phantom is still pretty tame looking compared to what the book described him as:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/markwitton/492789143/
Nothing reads as well as an Ebert essay regarding not film, nor politics, but merely(!) life. Though the other stuff is good, also!
Cheers, and many happy returns on the day.
Hi, Roger.
Do you find yourself reminiscing more than you think is healthy for someone with as many years ahead of him as you? Regardless of what you've lost, my friend, the same joyous pleasure of escaping into the dark remains today and always. Don't spend too much time looking back or you might miss the new joys which await you.
My boyfriend doesn't understand why I read you. "I don't need someone to tell me what to think about a movie. Why do you?" I gave up trying to explain to him because he (unlike my father) does not share my love for the artful use of language. Because of you I have wanted at various times to be a writer, an actor, a director, a screenwriter, a colleague, a fly on your wall, and smarter. I have decided instead to simply enjoy your writing. I missed it during your absence and was concerned for a time that we might not get you back, so I'm selfishly thrilled that you are in apparent good spirits and as prolific as ever.
I have decided I must never meet another artist I admire, because in my desire to impress upon them that I appreciate their talent I will no doubt make a fool of myself and leave a very different impression than the one I'd intended. Kathleen Turner will not remember me, but I will never forget how she pulled away and gravely said, "I'm a married woman, you know!" when I tried to hug her. (When friends ask what I was thinking, I still don't know how to respond except to say that I thought gay men got a pass for that sort of thing. Oops.)
Since I will never meet you, this is my chance to say to you: Sir, you are appreciated. Your talent is legendary, but more importantly you have made a difference to many people. I am one of them. May you continue to hilariously eviscerate awful movies and bring to our attention overlooked or forgotten gems for many years to come.
I will abstain from hugging you, even virtually; best wishes all the same.
Ebert: Obviously, your response should have been: "Please! I' m a gay man, you know."
You are one of the most attractive men I know. What a head and what a heart! It would be a great pleasure and joy to be able to meet you and interact more than from just reading your reviews, writing, and comments. And, don't stop making political comments or any other kind.
Haha! You & Gene must have had so much fun doing that show! I sure had a lot of fun watching, and continue to do so thanks to youtube!
It always seemed like you & Gene got along best when you'd be in agreement over a film. When it came to reviewing a stinker, Gene would sometimes get personal when trying to one-up you in roasting the movie. Seems like he would be the one who may have gotten into some uncomfortable situations as far as running into a star is concerned.
Great journal entry. You are not the only one who looks back at the old S&E days with fond appreciation!
Another fine post Roger, and I admire greatly how you deal with your personal difficulties.
Regarding spontaneous human combustion, the Chicago Reader's Straight Dope did a fair job investigating it. It does not sound like the best way to leave this world...
http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/190/do-people-really-die-from-spontaneous-human-combustion
RE: “The Mask of Dimitrios”
(B) Ebert: A wonderful Jean Negulesco film, top-billing for once Warner's two great character stars...(/B)
So, if I understand you correctly, sir, you that “The Mask of Dimitrios” is an unjustly neglected gem (nudge), and that it is surely a pity and a shame that those fine folks at Warner brothers (wink) have yet to get around to putting it on DVD for the legions, nay, the multitudes of cinéphiles, doubtless yourself included (nudge nudge), who would almost certainly scoop it off the shelves in droves the moment it was released (wink, wink), especially in a nicely restored version with some well-chosen extra features (nudge,nudge,wink,wink)?
Now were I, say, some Warner Brothers marketing-thingie, erhm, I mean executive, who had the uncommon good sense regularly to read the blogs of highly respected and influential and widely-read movie critics - such as, oh, say, yourself, for example - as part of a cunning plan to obtain clues to deciding what next to pluck out of WB’s archives for the benefit of a well-informed and serious movie-going audience – who, incidentally, would thenceforth be forever grateful to Warner’s for their good taste and discrimination, and would probably be very well disposed to buying many more of their products(nudge, nudge, wink, nudge, wink, wink, nudge) - were I, as I was saying, such a shrewd and insightful WB executive as described above, I (I should think) would immediately leap to the conclusion that “The Mask of Dimitrios” would be a most excellent choice for a really solid DVD treatment, maybe packaged with a few others of the Lorre-Greenstreet collaborations of that era (e.g. Three Strangers -also Negulesco- and The Verdict).
So, umh, Mr. Ebert, would you also, spontaneously and entirely of your own accord,of course, agree that the issuing of The Mask or better yet a set of underappreciated Lorre-Greenstreet gems on DVD might be a really, really, really good thing for Warner’s to do (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, nudge, wink, spam, nudge, bacon, eggs and spam, nudge, nudge, wink, spam and nudge)? Woudja? Eh?
Ebert: Are you trying to hint at something?
William James famously spoke of the second wind.When a person comes to the end of his physical or spiritual resources ,if he still pushes himself,there is a next energy level waiting to be tapped.
Human potential is universally unlimited (obviously it's not me pontificaticing just paraphrasing).This is the modern buddhist view vigorously endorsed by that greatest and most pragmatic of modern philosophers SGI President Daisaku Ikeda The wellsprings of hope,courage,love,compassion can never run dry,even unto death,and you can always ask for more at the price of courage.
I could choose one of many cliches on "what's inside is what counts." You know more than I ever learned. I found the Pritikin quote stunning. I'm a 2X cancer survivor and know it will get me in the end, but I have a new perspective on what will get others as well. But, you epitomize that it is "what is inside that counts." I laugh at those who marvel at your possible struggle to continue to work and write. I understand completely. You are your job, it is your passion, it is your reason for being. I watched every episode of "At the Movies" and after the first few months, I never thought about the way either you or Gene looked. I find it amazing when you explain your "uniform." I'm remarkably aware of it now that you've pointed it out. I would never have defined you by your weight, nor Gene. You were the white-haired one with glasses, he was the balding guy. But, the better way I defined you two was as the best and most reliable movie critics I had ever encountered.
Ebert: Gene wore the same pullover sweater for show after show. It had a dark paisley pattern. I called it his "coachroach sweater."
"'Only 20?' Yes, but you have experienced what you have experienced, and will not be able to write about it the same way at 40. "
Exactly. hah! If what was once so vivid is now so hazy (at only 21), what makes us believe that the passions of our youth will retain their clarity until we consider ourselves wise and skilled enough to reflect on them? I guess it's foolishness to keep waiting for some imaginary "point" in my life when I'm going to be at a certain literary level--a level that makes me worthy to write my own perceptions. I'm ridiculous.
haha thanks for the brainstorm.
(and although it doesn't matter to you and I'm sure you care very little, this free-spirit thinks your mind is incredible and your lines are perfect)
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Thank you for your judgment; shedding light on films that I would not otherwise see, (the most recent example being 'The Fall'). Thank you for your industry; that, despite occasional disagreements, draws me back to read your thoughts if only for how you express them. And thank you for being so honest and open concerning your weight and Pritikin. I am only 24, an aspiring filmmaker and uninspiring bum, and I have been morbidly obese for well over a decade. I went to a Pritikin Center as well. I lost 34 pounds, but then gained a little back and have stopped losing since I moved home. This was months ago. I'm sure my 'levels' have returned to 'terrible'. I know you're busy frying the big fish, but if you find the time: When you say, "I finally found a way to lose weight, and I lost a lot of weight, and enjoyed it", was the way you lost a lot of weight (not so) simply the lifestyle changes that Pritikin implores you to make or was there a deeper psychological tool that helped you use what you have learned to continue leading a healthy lifestyle?...May I have that tool?
Ebert: Apart from Pritikin's advice on nutrition, which is invaluable, they turned me on to the 10,000 Step a Day Program (Google it). Sounds daunting? I wore a pedometer and found the daily minimum was a joy to achieve. I always started with a walk through Lincoln Park evey morning, right after rising.
the old boy doesn't even look too bad, actually.
Almost no one where I live seems to know who you are, Mr. Ebert, and my own experiences with yours (and Gene Siskel's) work is pretty limited (I'm not kidding when I say that the first I ever heard of either of you was in a MAD Magazine parody I read when I was 4 or 5 -years old).
I found this entry through another website, but I'm really glad that I did, because it made me smile. Some might see that smile as too simple a reaction to such a clever, touching piece of work (you're a real piece of work, you know that?), but it's more than that. That smile was the smile of understanding - maybe with a little irony thrown in to preserve my cynical youthfulness - because appearance in itself can be like cancer (except when it's not, ya know?). Whatever the case, thank you for making me smile. I'll be back for more from this journal now, I'm sure.
Glancing here and there through your post during the course of the day,I relished it a little better----it's a tale honestly and well told---wistfully,sadly(better a phantom than an elephant),humourously---easyflowing, a bit like cummings and Emily Dickinson....
Hi Roger, the statue of Dr. Johnson's favorite cat Hodge looks like it could come alive when nobody is watching. Incidentally, this brought to mind three of Studio Ghibli's anime films: Kiki's Delivery Service, Whispers of the Heart and The Cat Returns. The people at Ghibli seem to have a predilection for cats.
Btw, I would hate to be the servant who cleans Sir John Soane's collection. The place, though lovely, looks inhibitingly cramped that a precarious ladder would most certainly spell doom for any of the priceless antiques. "Oops! There goes Seti!"
The virtual tour also features the home of Jane Austen, Chawton Cottage. It looks modest, but very rustic and homey. Makes me wish I had a house like that.
(Sir John Soane's Museum and Gough Square included for a future London itinerary, if that ever happens.)
Ebert: Chawton looks like the cozy cottage of one of Austen's heroines, don't you think? You are the rare Anglophile who has not yet been to Angloland. I was too. My mom's boss went to England and brought me back the Coronation Number of Punch. I studied it to pieces. Ever since I have valued the full range of toiletries from D. R. Harris & Co. in St. James Street, where you must nip in to purchase D. R. Harris' Pick-Me-Up. I will use no other shaving cream than their Almond Luxury Lather. http://www.drharris.co.uk/index.php
I just wanted to say that as a fat man myself, I can totally relate to only being miseralbe when I am made aware of it, and otherwise just ignoring it. One of my favorite movies, Angus, deals with a young man dealing with being fat and an outcast. I always felt it was the most personal and moving portrayal of that. Do you have any other movies that deal with the issue of how fat people view themselves and are viewed by others?
Mr. Ebert,
I first thought I’d throw something incisive and witty up on the boards to complement the other penetrating posts and comments. But now that I’ve cogitated on this journal piece a bit, I’m not feeling like making much “pithy” right now. Roger, you and I have been movie companions for so long. Through your reviews we cuss and discuss every movie we have both seen, and for my part at least, I must say you have become such a good friend. It’ll probably sound fawning, or disconcerting (or maybe both) for me to say this, but I snagged a picture of you off of the internet. You know the one…with you in the grey blazer, blue Oxford shirt, blue pullover sweater vest and you are leaning on the theater seat row? It’s from a couple years back. I titled it, “Roger Ebert, my hero" in my computer pictures folder. I didn’t title it as such to be maudlin and syrupy, it’s just true. I think I’m going to swap it for the “After the ball is over” picture, because that’s what my hero looks like now.
P.S.
Funny Farm, absolutely deserved four stars! What the hell were you thinking???
Much love,
Benjamin Henry
Screw the mirror; look at Chaz . I too dabled in the cancer thing that left me with a new, moddified look. Yeah, mirrors suck. Still. But my girlfriend, she's another story. I look at her looking at me and I'm never, not once, reminded of my scars. If she's sees them, they don't register on her face; not like others. From what I've read you write about Chaz, I'd imagine it's a similar feeling for you. Leave the mirrors. She'll tell you if your hair is mussed or collar is crooked. Forget the mirrors.
Roger...take comfort in your own words - that you'll "never be the director of 'Brown Bunny'".
To answer Lynn McKenzie's question, The Critic came out on DVD about five years ago, and new copies are still available at, e.g. Amazon.
Regarding your electric car article,
Obama has an energy policy that will mandate every car here sold in the U.S. be flex-fueled, and converting our cars over to that will only cost about 100$ bucks. A hybrid car costs 5,000$ dollars more, so it would cost much more to mandate hybrid cars. But mandating flex-fuel cars is a policy that will last us 60-80 years being able to run on alcohol fuels before population growth catches up. So, in 60-80 years, hybrid cars should be considerably cheaper, and perhaps, a revolutionary battery will be invented by that time that is even cheaper. So, we need to bail out the auto-industry, continue with Obama's energy policy which will give us 60-80 years to figuring out this battery deal, and keeping us and the world away from foreign oil, because, once we switch over to flex-fuel every serious car manufacturer in the world will switch over too. For just 100$ extra bucks per car, they aren't going to stop selling to a customer as big as the United States, and it will become the international standard. And we are the Saudi Arabia of coal, and methanol, which flex-fuel cars can use, can be made from it, and also supply our electricity 60-80 years from now for our hybrid plug-in car future....also China and India, our friends, have vast reserves of coal and they could do the same and the world will have alcohol fuels to compete with oil, keeping the price where it is today, until 60-80 years, continue to keep the price low and stay away from foreign oil and away from the threat of the petrotyrants. Did I mention the plug-in hybrids too, will have to be flex-fuel? Meaning, that they can run on 100 miles a gallon of gas now, but mix in M50 (50% methanol) or E85 (85% ethanol) and you are now running on 500 miles per gallon of gas. This does not mean, of course, you put in a gallon of gas and you can drive 500 miles, but rather, as a ratio of input of gas to energy mileage as a whole.
Haha "coachroach sweater". I am finding I have a lot in common with Gene. I avoid trailers, whether by plugging my ears or walking around in the hallways, and I also wear the same thing over and over again (blue jeans and white t-shirt) virtually everyday. I guess, I'll give myself a nickname..."pant ad. auditioner" uniform...okay, I'm not as good at it as you guys were.
What a delightful post to read! Sorry to hear about the permanent loss of your voice and eating.
People have been telling me on my blog how courageous, graceful, even grateful (ha!) I seem to them despite my own various illnesses, and I find it embarrassing. Am I noble because I don't want to commit suicide? Am I courageous because I like being alive (and also am scared of dying)? So I kind of cringe when they say those things to you, as well.
Still waiting for the photo without the cover-up, but that's really none of my business.
Ebert: That photo is none of your beeswax.
Dear Mr. Ebert
I met you recently at a book signing. I thanked you for introducing me to one of my favorite movies, you smiled and put your hand up to your heart. That gesture meant more to me than any words you could have spoken. Unfortunate things do happen in life. You reminded me of how important it is to remain positive and to never give up. You don't have to go to book signings and step out with your new phantom appearance, but you do. Thank you for that.
-Katie
Ebert: Hey, you didn't have to buy my book! Who's the nice one now? Or, to quote my second-favorite Onion headline:
MILLIONS OF DOG LOVERS DEMAND TO
KNOW: WHO'S BEEN A NICE DOGGIE?
Right on, Rog.
There's worse things to be than fat (or a little scarred up). It's up to you how much power you want to give the imbeciles to control you.
To paraphrase a Chris Rock joke: Every 400 lb. black woman gets out dancing every Saturday night and has a great time. Every 400 lb. white woman hasn't left the house for three years.
Screw what the world thinks.
I'm 46, 6 feet and 300 pounds. For 10 years I was too ashamed to ride a bike, hike, go swimming, dancing, etc. Finally, for the sake of my son we joined the boy scouts. Now I beat 17-year-olds to the top of the mountain (they rush and rest, I plod along like the tortoise and pace myself), canoe faster, ride my bike 10 miles a day to work and back and swim nearly every day (even without the international fat guy t-shirt). My resting pulse is 45.
Our culture tells people (even children) that being fat is the worst thing you can be. It's not. Being stupid and intolerant or letting morons have any control over your life and how you feel about yourself is far worse.
You are a role model for the human race in general, Roger.
Ebert: I will recommend again www.lynnejordan.com, although 400 pounds certainly doesn't apply.
Brian L comments makes me wish I were gay enough to get a pass on that sort of thing.
Ebert: How can one be not quite gay enough? Does that mean one can also be too gay?
Roger, do you think the show would have succeeded had you two not possessed the fat-guy/skinny-guy dichotomy? I mean, it worked with Laurel and Hardy and Abbott and Costello (and even David Spade and Chris Farley).
I don't mean to belittle the critical analysis and chemistry you two possessed, but would the show have captured the public imagination the way it did had you both been fairly non-descript, average-weight white men?
(And yes, I know you weren't THAT heavy and Gene wasn't THAT skinny...just like Abbott and Costello)
Ebert: Harry Dean Stranton captured itduring our first national season, when he called up Jack Nicholson and said, "Jack, turn on your TV. There are these two guys reviewing movies and they don't even look like they should be on TV."
i have a quick question: why do you have a blog and an opinion section on your site? they seem the same to me. do the articles in the opinion section appear in newspapers or is this some evil plot to drive people to the lower sections of the homepage? either way this has always bugged me.
Ebert: The blog can be longer, more personal, more whimsical, include a lot of art, and add comments.
roger, this post took me by surprise.It took this story to make me think about your feelings regarding your appearance following all of that surgery. I have been recalling my earliest memories of you and the whole FAT thing.
1978 - 79, I'm in junior high, and I'm telling all my friends about your show on public television. The hook I used was that your show actually showed clips of upcoming films!!!! You were the FAT guy and Gene was the BALD guy in the early years. I guess that's human nature, or the nature of teenage Junior High kids.
nowadays, I wouldn't even notice, or care.
this blog must be quite a lifeline of communication for you as much as it is for all of us.
You are quite a special guy,
Your literay style seems impressionistic,with light watercolor brushstrokes....wandering,flowing,maintaining the internal current,a suppressed emotional rhythm....your inherent artistic temperament is very obvious...glancing a few sentences of your review of Mephisto has re-lited "desire" ,and intend returning to the harem...they are waitin'....
“To illustrate, when a caged bird sings, the many birds flying in the sky all gather around it at once; seeing this, the bird in the cage strives to get out. “
Nichiren Daishonin
At some point in my youth I had no idea who was who -- as in "which one is Siskel and which is Ebert?" But I liked watching your show from very early on, probably starting before I was 10 years old, and it was always a favorite long after. Relatively speaking, it appeared on TV that Gene was taller and thinner and I suppose he was. And so I believe I did think of you as "the fat one," but only as a means of distinction. In the sense that being fat might be used as a stereotype for being lazy or apathetic, you may very well have been one of the few 3-dimensional "fat" people on TV to disabuse us of that notion (before the time when they stopped allowing fat people to be human on TV, of course). Of course, for those people who dismissed your reviews as being written by the "fat slob," it seems to me that their problem was not so much in being insensitive as it was in being uncreative; unable to compete with the thoughtfulness behind your reviews.
Dear Stephen in Jerusalem @ November 24, 2008 10:04 AM,
I'm no true-blood cineaste like Roger Ebert, but the closest film I can think of that at the very least touches on the issue of obesity is "Marty," 1956 Best Picture and Best Actor Oscars, with Ernest Borgnine. Saw that in the latter part of the '80s, on Betamax.
Ah, those were the best of days, and the worst of days....
Ebert: There's also, sort of, the 1995 "Heavy" http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19960816/REVIEWS/608160303/1023
(sorry, going of topic)
In your review for Milk you say that you recently watched Dead Man Walking (Great Movie Selection?) and you were amazed at Penn's range. Now go back and re-watch him as Emmet Ray, the second greatest jazz guitarist in Woody Allen's overlooked Sweet and Lowdown. That is a performance to knock your socks off (I suggest watching it barefooted). Need I pile on superfluous adjectives to comment on Penn's portrayal in this film and his overall range? I think the work speaks for itself.
As a 20 year-old who remembers watching you and Gene review movies as a child (though I confess I wasn't a regular viewer), I am indeed among the ones who sorted the two of you according to the "Fat one / thin one" mnemonic (since I have always been poor at recognizing faces).
And though it's been said a million times to a million people in a million different ways, I can say without feeling foolish that, if my thus-far brief time on Earth has taught me anything, it's that, when one lives his or her life surrounded by friends and in appreciation of beauty, appearances and body types do not matter at all.
It's been something that everyone "knows" as a youngster, in that it is what they have always been told. But it usually takes a long time to appreciate it. Maybe I'll come to appreciate it more in the future. Perhaps less (though I hope not). I don't know - I'm still young and stupid.
The beauty of the outside world - and of other minds - was somewhat lost on me at first. But I always have appreciated a good story - I was a reader at age 3, and I could scarcely look away from them at that age. However, as much as I loved them, I did not yet know or understand their power (though I thought I did). I had a vague sense of the mind-expanding capabilities of a good story. But I didn't quite "get it."
Then, when I reached the sixth grade, I just sort of stopped reading for pleasure, and now only read for school purposes. My leisure time was now dedicated to video games. True, I watched films - some of them on your List. I was at the age when I could tell a bad movie when I saw one and a great movie when I saw one (Batman & Robin was the first movie I truly hated). But I didn't see it as particularly important.
Three years later, however, on my fifteenth birthday, everything changed for me. A work of art actively changed the way I viewed the world. It wasn't a film - it was "Who's Next," an album released 16 years before I was born. And it felt as though it was written straight from Pete Townshend's heart to mine. (This applies doubly to "Quadrophenia," which I love even more, and coincidentally, was made into a very good movie).
But that isn't important. What's important is how it changed my thinking. I began to appreciate art and beauty in the sense that I ought to. I now saw the endeavor and quest for harmony as being something to be striven for. I now knew the full extent of the greatness of the Beatles (and the Who, of course). I understood why I loved those stories I read as a child and began to read again. I now appreciated great films on a deeper level (Lawrence of Arabia was the first I saw after that - if I could bathe in those three and a half hours, I would). I saw art even in the world around me - a painted masterpiece in a forest; fountains of joy in even the most mundane conversations amongst friends. Food literally tasted better after that day.
From then on, I have sought out beauty wherever I can find it - in any medium it lies. Even in the real world. No, ESPECIALLY in the real world. Among Nature and among friends. Through looking at the outside world and the imagination of others, my own mind was expanded and I profoundly enjoyed the experience.
So now that I've essentially told you my life story, how does that relate to this article? Well, the truth is, you seem to have experienced much beauty in your life (at least, judging from my foolish young man's perspective). It is in fact, your very profession is to recognize it and distinguish it from the rest of the output to which you are exposed. (Sorting the good stuff from the crap). And indeed, there has been plenty of crap. There's always plenty of crap - and I'm not just talking about movies. But the good stuff in life is ALWAYS worth suffering through the rest of it for.
And most importantly, there's friendship - which is the greatest beauty of them all save one, which is very similar (I won't mention it - we all know what it is).
If I could live a life surrounded by such things, I would not care in the slightest if I looked like Lon Chaney or Boris Karloff or even Godzilla (though would I suspect something had gone horribly wrong if the latter were the case).
What you perceptively described as the saddest lines in Shakespeare
are not half that sad ( with due apologies to the bard ) when seen from the grand oriental perspective ,where one's present life is a single page in the eteral drama....movie upon movie ,each expanding on the last......more than belief,it is faith....
Ebert: It is Lear's focus on his own despair that makes the lines so sad, as he stoops Cordelia's dead body, after the death of his Fool, and deceives himself for one instant that she still lives:
KING LEAR
And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there, look there!
Dies.
That gay comment was a bad attempt at humor. I did not mean to say that Brian L was not gay enough. But I meant it like in an envious way, like the way gay guys get to watch girls try on clothes and everything. So, it was like me saying, "am I gay "enough" to do that too?" To me, there is no too gay because it would mean that they are just...well, gay, or maybe even gay as can be, like the movie "Kinsey", where there is a scale of 1 to 7, I think. So, to me, there is no too gay, just someone who is a 7 on the scale, but how would I know that anyway unless I got to know them? I don't presume to think I would know. I also just like to say things in a way that gets people going "huh?...what?". But back to too gay or not enough gay. It was kind of also an inside joke to myself. I myself have had some gay experiences when I was very young and young. So, I might tell a girl that I might be able to qualify as gay enough...continue making out...haha. I put myself on probably a 2 on the scale. I meant it as kind of an attempt at humor, with an undercurrent of truth and perhaps, subliminal messaging or something, as you can see it applies to me personally. I was hoping it would connect to others in some weak way in questioning their own sexuality, which is kind of funny too, or at least fun to me. Like someone reading it thinking "haha, gay enough"...then looks around suspiciously, did I say that out loud?
As to your opinion piece:
Am I the only one who is angry about the electric car GM leased but didn't sell twelve years ago?
It is not me, but my child and students that will suffer for the ignorance and greed displayed by these people. Contrast this with the sacrifices made daily by and for working people to hold off global warming. I make my living explaining the importance of reducing and reusing. I wish someone would explain to me why these people deserve a dime of hard-earned tax dollars.
Roger, I fear you have fallen prey to some post-modern revisionist history with regards to your "MILK" review. Dan White murdering Milk and the mayor was, it seems, more petty politics than an extreme animus towards people with homosexual tendencies fueled by self-loathing at being such a person himself(Indeed there is no evidence that he was). I cite this article as a reference:
http://www.sfweekly.com/2008-01-30/news/white-in-milk/1
I am not saying that film should necessarily be historically accurate, but I do think it is incumbent on you to put forward the correct historical facts(i.e. amend your review) so that the film-going public knows where artistic liberties are being taken.
Ebert: The film goes to some lengths to establish that aspect to his character.
Roger, I now realize what it is about you that I think shines above all. Decency.
Reply to: Am I the only one who is angry about the electric car GM leased but didn't sell twelve years ago?
I think you're the only one.
Do you remember the lawsuits when the tires on Ford Explorers failed, when driven hard at underinflation pressures?
GM has a duty not to incur lawsuits, or put an unsafe product on the streets.
The problem with the leased cars was, when the batteries ran down, there wasn't an infrastructure to get the cars charged up and running again. If you were trapped on a freeway at rush hour, it was dangerous. Also, after a certain number of cycles, the batteries wouldn't hold a charge and had to be replaced. GM decided not to allow consumers to replace the batteries because... new ones were very, very expensive relative to the price of a used car.
If you want to see the current technology, check out Tesla Motors.
Charging cars overnight places a strain on power grids. A better solution is General Motors' hydrogen car program, but GM is going to sell an improved version of their electric car.
Are you going to buy one?
http://www.media.gm.com/volt/
The fool in your quote also possibly refers endearingly not to the Fool, but to Cordelia.
"Look there, look there!
Dies"
is indeed pathetic for the "look there" points to a last vain flickering of hope ,an imagined motion in the lips and one can imagine an unwritten line where .....we are in No Man's Territory....
Reminds of Anna Karenina:
"And the candle by which she had been reading the book filled with trouble and deceit, sorrow and evil, flared up with a brighter light, illuminating for her everything that before had been enshrouded in darkness, flickered, grew dim, and went out forever."
To quote Daisaku Ikeda
"Buddhism places strong emphasis on the last moment of life, for in the Buddhist view it contains the sum total of one's lifetime, and it is also the first step toward the future."
Roger,
What films of the past ten years do you think would've had a big impact on Gene - the way "Fargo" did for example?
Amazing how I remember shows and reviews from years ago as if I saw them yesterday. I'll never forget the "Full Metal Jacket" show and the moment when Gene chastised you for liking "Benji the Hunted" and not the Kubrick film and you said to him "Shame on you."
Then there were those films where one of you, mostly you, would start by saying to the other "We saw two different movies..." and there would be fireworks.
Yes, the two of you did agree far more than you ever disagreed. You were both very good film critics, but you had very different styles.(It's quite a shock to read some of Gene's print reviews in the way he uses such a broken paragraph writing style). I think we always thought of Gene as more conversative and closed-off, and a bit cynical while you seemed more open to more kinds of movies.
But Gene would surprise us, like when he would give a good review to a film like "Lambada" or "Shocker" or "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man."
"Ebert: Hey, you didn't have to buy my book! Who's the nice one now? Or, to quote my second-favorite Onion headline:
MILLIONS OF DOG LOVERS DEMAND TO
KNOW: WHO'S BEEN A NICE DOGGIE?"
As an avid Onion reader myself, I'd be remiss not to ask what's your FAVORITE Onion headline? Personal fav:
EVERYTHING MIDAS CEO TOUCHES TURNS TO MUFFLERS.
Regards,
Chris
Ebert: That honor would have to go to:
COLLECTIBLE PLATE INDUSTRY CALLS FOR DEATH OF BARBRA STREISAND
Hahaha, i remember all the diggs they poked at you in The Critic, and also Animaniacs once. A Siskel and Ebert parody gave Slappy the Squirrel two toes down, so she nuked them...
A few weeks ago I was in a coffee house that I frequent with my laptop. They have restaurant booth type tables where the benches on either side of the table are stationary, but the table itself is not. I got one of the tables right next to an electrical outlet. As business picked up the place filled with customers and all of the tables were taken.
At one point a very heavyset woman came in, saw that the side of the booth opposite me was free, and asked if she could share the table so that she could sit down and plug-in her laptop. I told her that she was welcomed to do so and went back to what I was working on. (This is not a common occurrence at this coffee house. For whatever reason, table-sharing is not part of the culture. When one turns up, I am fascinated by watching these people out of the corner of my eye and trying to determine which patron they are going to ask to sit with.) She put down her textbooks and computer and went to order at the counter.
When she returned to the table and tried to sit down she could not fit between the bench and table, by several inches. I was paralyzed by embarrassment. I couldn't decide whether it would be rude to look up from my work and acknowledge what was happening and why by moving the table in my direction so that she could fit into the booth, leave it to her to push the table over, or what. She gathered her things, thanked me for offering to share the table and left. I felt really bad about it for several days. She was very nice and I'm still not sure whether she was offended that I hadn't acknowledged her problem, or was just embarrassed and wished that it hadn’t happened in the first place. I didn’t care whether the table was moved. My instinct in the moment was that it would be horribly rude to acknowledge her situation, and yet when it was over I was not sure that I had acted properly.
Thanks for the link to Lynne Jordan, Roger. I'd drink her bath water, along with some other Big Beautiful Black Women like Shemekia Copeland and Lady Jill Scott (check 'em out).
Heroic fat guys in the movies and TV (who did not usually portray buffoons)and who looked like they could kick some butt: Brian Dennehy, John Goodman, Dennis Franz, Orson Welles, Paul Sorvino, Ernest Borgnine (previously mentioned), Raymond Burr, Brian Keith and my personal favorite: James Gandolfini -- all "a man with a belly" as Mario Puzo wrote.
Especially Gandolfini as Tony Soprano -- feared and beds a new beauty every episode. Okay, it's TV, but one can dream.
Any others I missed?
Now that it's been released on Criterion, I thought I'd check out your review of The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. Much to my surprise, there was no review! I would have thought that, as an ardent Angophile, you would have long ago placed it into your Great Movie archives. Whassup?
When my friend Josh and I were seniors in high school, we were obsessed with you and Siskel and your reviews. He went on to film school, and I just became a film geek on the side. I remember the two of us totally geeking out when we saw you two on The Critic.
You know, it's ironic that the off-key singing in The Critic actually harmonizes quite beautifully there for a second!
You are leaving quite a legacy Mr. Ebert with your writing and your archived video reviews... you've also influenced me to dedicate so much of my time and my life to cinema, and I'm sure I'm not alone.
Thanks for being who you are!
My favorite Onion headline actually never made it into print. In an interview the editor was asked if they ever had a headline they deemed too controversial. He mentioned the following post 9/11 headline: The Nation is Secure says Official From the Quadrangle .
Mr. Ebert
Don't worry, the only thing I love more than buying books is reading them. I'm so proud of my own little library. The book actually inspired me to buy a Hard Days Night as a birthday gift for someone. Now I'll get to watch it!
-Katie
Hi Roger,
Not sure if you're planning to blog again before the holiday, so I thought I'd just add a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone out there.
And I'd like to also add this (having just screened the Angelina Jolie vehicle WANTED): Is it too late in the history of gunplay movies - we're talking well over 100 years - to introduce the notion that, if one pulls off the right kind of hip-swivel when he/she draws, one can add a little English to the bullet and make it go around corners? Or is it time to shake things up a bit like that?
I mean, fine, as the last gag in an action movie, I might smile and buy it. But a whole movie based on that notion? Not that it wasn't enjoyable whacky as a picture, but they should have added a title card at the beginning that said "the following film takes place in an alternate universe where the laws of physics are a teensy bit, but not that much, to the left of ours"... A similar disclaimer was, I believe, added (at least in the press notes) to a film called MAD DOG TIME, but in that case I think the "alternate universe" addendum was there to excuse the movie's jarring tone.
I think I'll write an epic, heartwarming story about our lives, our loves, and the things that warm our hearts... and then reveal at the end that every character - even dead grandma - had eleven toes. And that it all took place in some alternate universe where everything was the same, except for that extra toe.
Or a Western where it's revealed at the outset that every character has exactly fifty cents in their pocket, and always will? Or an epic romance in Africa, but in that universe "Africa" is spelled "Detroit"? Or a desert saga where handfuls of sand can, if compacted just so, be hurled and explode like hand grenades (but only by the 'chosen ones')?
The future of movies is just now being glimpsed over the rise!
Hey, how about that? What if every bad or awkward or jaw-droppingly illogical movie that flits by was redacted and retrofitted with a "the following film takes place in an alternate universe" card before the credits? Suddenly, obsessively anal film minutia geeks the world-over would tumble forward in bliss, bestowing a blessed "three stars at least" on ever film ever made.
Why, that reminds me of the first time I saw BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK, and asked my father why Spencer Tracy never took his hand out of his pocket.
"It's a dignity thing, or a war injury," he said.
"No," I said, "I feel that he will reveal that he has a machine gun or a whirring blade on the end of that arm, and he will use it to pull the wool out from under Robert Ryan at the end."
"But that wouldn't be fair to the audience," he said, "What if, at the end of 'Unforgiven', when Clint Eastwood walks into the bar to face off against Gene Hackman, what if Clint said 'Little Bill, while you've been being a mean old bastard, I've been off in the surrounding sagebrush, training this cadre of wild gorillas to do my bidding,' at which point he whistles, and ten silverback gorillas smash through the windows and kill everyone for Clint. But the audience hadn't heard about the gorillas before, either."
"That would be amazing," my 20-year-old brain spurted out, "what a revolutionary surprise that would be!"
"But you have to tell the audience something is possible before just slapping it on them like that"
"Why?", said I.
Ebert: Why, indeed? This is one hilarious piece of writing.
You are a great writer. Reading you is one of life's small pleasures.
Ebert: Receiving messages like this is one of life's big pleasures.
Thank you Roger. For this beautiful piece, and for the years I have enjoyed your work. I loved the McDonald's YouTube clip so much, I posted it on my MySpace page. I practically grew up watching you guys, and seeing that clip made me feel like I was watching my two favorite uncles kidding around.
Reading a Roger Ebert review is one of the great joys of this life. After sampling other critics writing on Rotten Tomatoes, including the Cream of the Crop, one quickly surmises that they all aspire to and covet his unique talent and insight.
Roger,
Looks like this is the only place i can comment right on your review of "Four Christmases" and I just wanted to say, HA!! Thanks. That was very nice and funny. Funny thing is, your review reminded me that the trailer of this movie left me feeling pretty much the same way. Will I see it? I don't know. 8 bucks can still buy a nice sandwich these days.
Response to Bill Hays:
I think Roger Ebert might be a little angry too.
Am I going to buy one?
No. Public school teachers generally can't afford new cars, hydrogen or otherwise. I'm driving less since I lost 1/5 of my portfolio in the economic crisis.
I'm gonna have to disagree with the whole Lon Chaney comparison. Your cheerfulness in the 2008 photo scuttles yer phantom cred ENTIRELY. (Although, actually, that gives me an idea for the worst possible revisionist remake of the P.O.T.O.)
on the Yancy Berns bit:
watch Takashi Miike's Dead or Alive.
just trust me.
Not sure where i could post a comment regarding your 4 Christmases review, so i figured this would be as good a place as any. So here goes: Wonderful review. Made me laugh out loud in my office this morning, and it felt good. Thank you!
Your 2006 self-portrait has an- almost-Lear-like look,In the next-2008- the sun is bursting....
"Until a jaunty bugle blast
adorns the final moment
of this life,
live to the utmost,
win without cease;
lift voices
sonorous with joy,
ample with ease and grace!"
Daisaku Ikeda
Apologies for going off-topic; I tried to snnd this to the Answer Man, but I'm apparently doing something wrong there. Anyway: Reading your praise for Julianne Nicholson's freckles (with which I concur wholly) led me to wonder: do you ever let down your anti-TV bias down long enough to check out those actors you admire who have taken TV series work, such as James Spader, Vincent D'Onofrio, Patrick Bauchau, Harvey Keitel, Donald Sutherland, and so forth? Just out of curiosity? Just askin', is all.
Ebert: When? In all my extra time?"
Reply to: Van Dyke: I think Roger Ebert might be a little angry too... No. Public school teachers generally can't afford new cars. I'm driving less since I lost 1/5 of my portfolio in the economic crisis.
_____
Which is a good reason to be bitter with George W. Bush, not General Motors.
Public school teachers CAN afford new cars, especially if the cars don't use gasoline and qualify for tax breaks and zero-percent financing. And GM needs the sales. Think of it as the best way to keep thousands of GM employees (who pay the taxes that keep schools open) from losing their jobs.
General Motors is about a year away from selling an electric car. Hydrogen-powered cars are about a decade away:
LINK: On his blog, Bob Lutz, GM vice chairman and father of the Volt explained that the latest Volt mules are based on the Chevy Cruze, using the same global compact platform that the final Volt will have.
http://www.autoblog.com/2008/09/16/officially-official-gm-reveals-the-2011-chevy-volt/
Lutz said in driving the Volt “the relative quiet and absence of vibration stand out,” he also noted the chassis integrity was “outstanding” and he was pleased with braking and steering.
He described going for a drive at 30 degrees for 19 miles when the generator kicked in, it was so “quiet and non-jarring” that he didn’t even notice it. He mentioned that there was some cutting in and out of the engine at low speeds but that further testing would lead to correcting that. His team “will continue to work round the clock to further refine the Volt and get it on the road — and in your hands — year after next.”
www.gm-volt.com
http://www.media.gm.com/volt/video/index.html
The technology behind the leased cars wasn't ready. That's why GM kept the pink slip and only leased them to qualified drivers.
What upsets me... is people who are encouraged to share their opinions about "what I believe." Get the facts first. Is that too much to ask? If your beliefs are wrong, admit it. So much of our current problems are the result of people being unwilling to admit their "beliefs" are wrong. Hitler's belief in Aryan Supremacy... did you see the Notre Dame game against syracuse? 5 seconds left, down by one, Notre Dame attempts a field goal. Falls short by ten feet. Do prayers work? Were Notre Dame fans praying for that field goal? Of course they were, and their prayers did not work. That's the answer most people will lie to avoid facing. Every time Brady Quinn threw a pass, I knew Catholics would say "See? This proves God is on our side." Losing to Syracuse pretty much slams the door on that nonsense. And USC will be... well, let's see if USC can score 100+ unanswered points in a single game.
I know it's difficult to admit your beliefs are wrong.. but remember, they're only beliefs. Six billion people have beliefs, and they can't all be right. Creationism is a belief, and it's complete nonsense.
You don't look like the phantom of the opera or any other monster. You look like a man who has had surgery on his neck.
You never had movie star perfect looks. Few do. But physical beauty, like glory, is fleeting and those of us who live long enough all end up looking like the phantom of the opera.
You have always had something better than looks: a brilliant mind. Your writing is always insightful and full of wonderful pieces of information.
Those of us who attended your film study class were always in awe of the way you would transition from a seemingly unrelated topic to the movie you were about to present. It was usually about an hour's worth of incredible oratory. My husband and I would marvel that you could do that, week after week.
The fact that you could no longer conduct the class left a huge hole in our lives; but your blog has managed to alleviate that loss. I read each one and cannot wait until the next one.
Roger wrote: Chawton looks like the cozy cottage of one of Austen's heroines, don't you think? You are the rare Anglophile who has not yet been to Angloland. I was too. My mom's boss went to England and brought me back the Coronation Number of Punch. I studied it to pieces. Ever since I have valued the full range of toiletries from D. R. Harris & Co. in St. James Street, where you must nip in to purchase D. R. Harris' Pick-Me-Up. I will use no other shaving cream than their Almond Luxury Lather. http://www.drharris.co.uk/index.php
Roger, would that be Elinor Dashwood of Barton Cottage?
I think a clandestine Georgiana also fits there in that room, away from the Duke and writing torrid letters of trysts to Mr. Grey.
I am clueless about Coronation Number of Punch. A search in the web initially led me to Cuban cigars, but that couldn't be it. Further research led me to Kelmscott Bookshop, which carries rare and fine books (in Maryland). One of the items they have is "Coronation of Elizabeth II: 4 Magazines Including: Punch, Country Life, and 2 issues of The Queen 1953." Here is a picture of two of the periodicals contained within the book. The one to the right, with the Union Jack and floral crown, is titled "PUNCH Coronation Number 1953."
Wikipedia explains that Punch was a former British weekly magazine of humour and satire (1841 ~ 1992, 1996 ~ 2002). However, I'm still clueless as to what the Dickens is a coronation number. It sounds like a schedule for shows in honor of Queen Elizabeth's coronation. A glimpse of Bacchus riding a donkey and frolicking with a maiden on the cover of the above PUNCH Coronation Magazine seems to confirm this. But that is just me hypothesising.
Almond Luxury Lather? Roger, you were always so clean-shaven, it never occurred to me that you could sport whiskers or a beard. Maybe someone here could Photoshop your picture and provide us a glimpse of a moustached/bearded Roger Ebert.
Btw, loved your Kerouac limerick. (^_^)
Ebert: "Number" means "issue." When you go to D. R. Harris, ask for the friendly Miss Brown.
Sir!!! you said in the movie review of 'The Elephant Man' or must i say you mentioned Wilfrid Sheed in the review of that movie saying... "He is sick and tired, he wrote, of being praised for his "courage," when he did not choose to contract polio and has little choice but to deal with his handicaps as well as he can. True courage, he suggests, requires a degree of choice."
i feel the same when i hear reports in news channels about 'the spirit of Mumabi'... the resilience of the city for coming back to life everytime there is a terrorist attack on it. i think it is foolish to admire the aspect of the city rather than avoiding the situation.
i have been following your website for many years now and i thank you for the education you have given me in cinema. i always waited to write an appropriate email/message/comment to you at various times but i never thought that i would end up leaving a comment on you blog in this context.
i still hope to write my thoughts about how much you have contributed to my education in cinema. thank you.
with great respect and love,
Arvind
PS: this is the first time i communicated or attempt to communicate with a person i greatly admire; and it is an emotional moment for me - Wodehouse was just gone when i was born. Thank you internet!!!
Happy Thanksgiving Mr. Ebert to you and your loved ones!
We who love movies love you and are thankful that you are here to enlighten, engage, and transend our experiences at the movies.
I own a retail store in the suburbs of Chicago and one of my clients is a close relative of the late great Mr. Siskel. He has a sparkling charm and warm demeanor about him that I can only imagine was inherant of Mr. Gene Siskel.
I also have had the pleasure of meeting you briefly once in the last year and I must say that you are as dapper as ever!!!!
Warmest Holiday Greetings
Dear Roger,
You were kind enough to respond, personally, to several of my emails way back when, and they were cheering, patient (when I misinterpreted one of your essays) and informative (various responses)--you even gave me a hidden shoutout one time when I emailed asking about the probability of finding a reconstructed Magnificent Ambersons in response to another question (it was about Nashville prints)--I always loved that.
I used your "Great Movies" lists as one of my guides to see classics, and I'm very pleased you're still writing and actively reviewing. I you will continue to do so for a long time to come...possibly even long enough to review one of my films (several produced plays, no features yet). In any event, may you stay as healthy and active as possible.
Sincerely,
Greg Machlin
Ebert: You know, The Bacon-Weaving Axis is one great title.
I have been nearly a life-long lover of good movies (and a few bad)
and at one time in earlier days, I could just about name the director of any of the good movies. However, I discovered you and Gene's show by accident on t.v. one Sunday afternoon and I was hooked. Since that time, I've gotten most of your yearly reviews, Awake in the Dark, your great movies series, etc. I almost always read your review before seeing a movie.
However, in spite of the wealth of entertainment and knowledge that you and your work gave me, I think it has been the evidence of your heart, especially in the face of your cancer, that has moved me the most. As a psychologist, I find that I am constantly reminded how any one of us can be influenced and changed by our life encounters.
I admire your courage in showing "the face" of your change, but I suspect all of your readers know that it is your heart which matters most. I am thankful for that Sunday afternoon which was almost 20 years ago now. Your life and heart continue to touch me.
Dear Roger,
What a beautiful, touching blog. I have nothing much to add, just that my heart goes out to you in this time. My husband and I love all your books, you are a part of our home. I have often said that "The only thing better than watching a movie is reading what Roger Ebert says about them."
Any Beauty and The Beast story is a favorite of mine, The Phantom especially. I think what touches me the most is the idea that those who are not physically gifted seem to understand true beauty better than anyone.
To me, your smile is inspiring, and I have never though you looked like anything other than a man who is keeping his spirits up during a rough time.
We love you Roger. God Bless.
ps...did the picture change? Because I am looking at Lon Chaney.
As I remember, Dennis Miller summed it up perfectly when he quipped that Siskel and Ebert had their names legally changed to 'the fat guy' and 'the other one.'
Reply to Anonymous:
My post was a reply to Roger Ebert's essay on the EV-1:
ttp://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081124/OPINION/811240299
It came out in 1996, four years before George W. Bush won the Presidency fair and square, 5-4.
I'm okay with being angry at GM when I read lines like this:
GM Chairman and CEO Rick Wagoner said in 2006, "the worst decision of my tenure at GM was axing the EV1 electric-car program and not putting the right resources into hybrids. It didn’t affect profitability, but it did affect image."
And this...
Indeed, GM vice chairman Bob Lutz, who now hails the Chevy Volt as his swan song and finest moment, once told a group of auto writers that global warming was "a crock of s***." Lutz today boasts the Volt is “the last thing anybody expected from GM.”
Not if they remembered the EV-1.
Roger, you wrote:
"To begin with, I must make this clear: Many people have problems much worse than mine, and at a much younger age, and sometimes joined with other disabilities. I may seem tragic to you, but I seem fortunate to myself. Don't lose any sleep over me."
That struck a chord with me. My sister and I both have an extremely rare genetic disease that results, in adulthood, in severe osteoarthritis. We both live with constant pain and limited mobility—she's had both her hips replaced; I plan to have one of mine replaced next year.
And I have always felt as you do. My father, who also had the disease, felt the same. But it's a strange thing, suffering and disease. My sister feels differently—she has always greatly disliked the "other people are much worse off" sentiment. She thinks that it is somehow disrespectful to those people who are in worse shape; that it's distancing them as "others". And our mother simply doesn't believe that I feel relatively lucky and am not angry or self-pitying. She thinks I'm hiding it, that my father taught me to minimize my pain.
But this disease and my disability have never seemed to me to characterize me. It's an incidental fact of my life—certainly it defined how I live in many ways, but it doesn't tell you much about who I am. It's not an essential part of how I see myself. And when I look at pain and suffering around me, it seems like there's multitudes for a deeper misery than I think I have ever suffered. Also, I'm extremely intelligent and well-educated, born a white man in a society that greatly privileges white men, in a world filled with poverty. I feel very lucky. I freely describe myself as "disabled", but it doesn't define me. Maybe that's why I don't mind to say that I'm disabled.
Yet my sister—a caring and compassionate woman who has dedicated her life to help others—has always seemed to me to very much be defined by her illness and, in many ways, confused and angry that she has to live with it. And after much thought, I'm not inclined to claim that I know how each person should learn to live with his or her suffering; how we view the world through the prism of our hopes and fears and pride and disappointment and pain, and love. We each find our own way, coming to terms with life the best we know how.
I do know this: whether one feels fortunate, like you and I, or one feels stricken and angry, like many others—pity, though sometimes well-intended, is a kind of poison. No one wants pity. I think perhaps the more one has suffered or is facing barriers, the more unwelcome is pity. It is off-putting, distancing, and shows a lack of empathy rather than its presence. No one should pity you, you are not tragic. Indeed, your prose dances with vitality and you write as if you have found a kind of clarity.
And I think you are doing good for many other people in your way of being straightforward and not shy about your illness. Especially, perhaps, it is the case that people in the public eye are expected to retire from view when they become ill. You are no doubt doing this for yourself in being yourself, present and visible; but you are doing something for others, too. Thank you.
Ebert: It's so subjective. I'm sitting here typing this and I feel just fine. We play the hand we are dealt. I saw people at the Rehabilitation Center of Chicago who were dealing with situations that made me feel absolutely bleeping lucky, as if I hadn't fractured a hip but had found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
"We play the hand we are dealt"
These beautiful words express modern karma theory-----it's not the cards you are dealt that matter ,but how you play----eternity is condensed in the present moment.To quote its most outstanding outstanding exponent :
" Life is the accumulation of all the moments we live. One who cannot live meaningfully today cannot hope to lead a brilliant life tomorrow. No matter what grand plans one makes, if he does not value each moment, they will be just so many castles in the air. All the causes in the past and all the effects in the future are condensed within the present moment of life."
and a great American bard:
"Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!"
Longfellow
Been a fan since I started reading your columns in the Sun-Times in the early 80's. I moved to Alaska in the late 80's and missed your work for a few years when I taught in remote Native villages (Gambell, for one, where, unlike Ms. Palin, I really could see Russia from my house). After belatedly discovering the Internet, I immediately added your site to my favorites. Sure the closest theater was a couple hundred miles away in Fairbanks, so I rarely saw the films you reviewed, but I nevertheless enjoyed your style, insights and wit. Thanks for helping me through the cold dark winters (Randy Wayne White's fine Florida mysteries helped as well), and for demonstrating the art of reviewing to my students. Pouty undernourished young people aren't the only good models. Best wishes.
Ebert: Did Netflix get up there?
As a huge fan of The Fat One, and in a personal way after he married a black woman trial attorney, I loved reading this. The Phantom is fine, but to me you look like Roger, the one I like to read. Grounded Roger with a sense of humor and as always an insightful and interesting take.
After watching the outtakes of you and Gene, I wondered: Who had the dirtiest mouth off-camera? Then I concluded: it had to be Gene.
On a side note, I'm a long-time fan of Howard Stern, and I always enjoyed your appearances on his "terrestrial" radio show. I found that you were very candid with him about yourself and your career during those interviews. As a listener of his and a reader of yours, I appreciated those frank and honest exchanges between the two of you. Now that Stern is on uncensored satellite radio, I'd be interested to hear those exchanges -- just as honest, but a little franker.
I guess the consolation prize would be for Howard to play those YouTube clips you and Gene swearing at each other on his show, and hearing his reaction.
Thanks,
Joe
Ebert: Both of us had a rich vocabulary, but we used the words sparingly, Gene more sparing than me. They have more effect that way. Of course neither one of us would ever use one the Seven Words in company where we didn't know they would be acceptable, but who does? There was one word we never used at all.
Dear Roger,
One phrase my family is tired of is "Roger Eberts says" such as that "Spider-Man is the best film of its genre" and that the "Up" Series was one of your top 10 choices for Sight and Sound in 1992, and so forth. I am generally unwilling to watch a film if it hasn't gotten 3 stars from you, while I will make a point of trying to watch all of your recent 4 star movies. I have even had the joy of twice pointing out small inaccuracies to you, first by letter and then by email, and having you generously agree that you had made an error.
I have made a point of trying to watch the movies you have recommended. I have kept an IMDb database on these, and I can report that so far, I have watched 253 of the 304 of your "Great Movies," 227 of your 410 annual "Top 10 Movies" since 1967, and 312 of your 738 "Four Star Movies."
I average watching over 200 films a year. I am also watching movies from the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die Book (that you recommended), the New York Times Top 1000 Movies Book, the AFI "Top 100" Lists, the IMDb Top 250 movies, the Halliwell's Top 1000 Movies book and the Sight and Sound Listing each decade (that you recommended). My point is that in looking back, the one person who made the most difference in my developing my love of film is you, initially with Gene and Richard, and now by reading you in the local newspaper on Fridays, and your on-line reviews. Thank you for the ongoing contribution you have made to my life.
Gary Robbins
Ebert: By my count, your family has heard that at least 624 times, not counting any movies from your other five sources that I might have written about. Give them a bit of a change. Start saying, "I say..."
Roger wrote: "When you go to D. R. Harris, ask for the friendly Miss Brown."
Roger, I'll be sure to do that when in the vicinity. I might just try one of their colognes.
Hi.
Just had to weigh in here (no pun intended)....I've been a fan of yours since the show in the 70's.....I still miss seeing you and Gene together, and I REALLY miss hearing you on the Steve Dahl show.....it was Steve and Garry back then, and when you and Gene were on as guests, or filling in as guest hosts, you were hilarious. It was obvious that you had so much more than brief comments shared over a 30 minute TV show. I'm glad I got to experience that, and I thank you for many years of entertainment.....here's to many more.
Jeff
Reply to: Van Dyke: I'm okay with being angry at GM when I read lines like this: Indeed, GM vice chairman Bob Lutz, who now hails the Chevy Volt as his swan song and finest moment, once told a group of auto writers that global warming was "a crock of s***." Lutz today boasts the Volt is “the last thing anybody expected from GM.”
I'll accept that you're not a "car guy," or you would understand what Lutz is talking about.
The GM Volt has a range of 60 miles on a single charge. Do you understand what that means? You turn on the gas engine and you get, maybe, another 230 miles. Why would General Motors want to sell that?
Here's a state-of-the-art car called a Tesla Roadster:
AUTOWEEK: We got 93 miles out of the full charge we had on our day’s drive, which was, as we said, spirited and over twisting mountain roads. The meter on the dash went from 95 percent charge to 7 percent by the time we got back to San Carlos. Those numbers were with the car set to make full power. The record so far for a Tesla drive in ideal conditions (economy mode gives only 50% as much torque) is 267 miles.
http://www.autoweek.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080124/FREE/398811820
The Tesla uses the chassis from a Lotus Elise, but weighs 700 pounds more. The extra weight comes from the 990-pound lithium ion battery that sits behind the passenger compartment.
http://www.teslamotors.com/efficiency/charging_and_batteries.php
Bob Lutz is a car guy, and General Motors decided to invest their development money in creating a complete hydrogen infra-structure, not electric power. For excellent reasons. Other companies can sell electric cars. GM wanted to create a car that works as well as the ones they're selling today. A car with a 93 mile range... isn't something a car guy wants.
A very interesting reflection, and a commentary on a subject that most people probably want to ask you about at the back of our minds. Something you mentioned that I particularly enjoyed was the humor that you and Gene both shared. I saw a clip where you mentioned that Gene was one of the funniest people you've ever known, and I agree. Both your humor, even fat jokes, were unique, witty, dry, grown up, and far more clever than the standard tired ones we've all come to expect. It still makes me laugh.
In the early days it was obvious you and Gene weren't hired for your looks. I watched the Bens once and said "They aren't journalists". I have fought the fat demon all my life. I don't believe in Hell but no matter how much weight I lose I am still fat. It is important to think about other things. Interestingly I don't have to watch my weight, so many others do it for me. That doesn't stop men of undetermined orientation staring at me in the locker room. Stay strong, Roger. You are the personification of working with what you have rather than complaining about what you don't. Ten minutes after we are gone physical appearance doesn't matter but reviews and excellence are forever.
In a broad sense, which is how I think you're addressing this, the point is that if you never considered yourself matinee idol material in the first place, it's hard to feel great self-pity if you reach a point where you are even less so.
I've always felt that way about myself. Some women find my looks acceptable (my ex-wife apparently did at one point) and a very few might say more than that, but women are odd in that way. They can convince themselves the guy they're with is handsome. Look at all the gorgeous women married to extremely unattractive guys. It must tell us something.
So I hear where you're coming from. You can't lose what you never really had, so why worry about it?
Wait a minute, Roger ... you can't eat? So the Ode to the Rice Cooker was an historical piece, or do you still cook for family and friends?
Ebert: Lots of great chefs don't eat everything they cook!
Roger,
Since you broach the topic of your "new look," I have a question about the whole thing that happened.
Just so you know a little about me, I have all of your books stacked on a cabinet next to the TV. Basically, no one can watch tv in my den without seeing your name and your books.
I think your writing is beautiful and always passionate and life-affirming. You are someone, that when I think about you, I become happier.
But I have a tough question.
I want to know how much of this is "you" now? Do you still write your pieces the way you used to? Is anyone ghostwriting anything? What is your daily process?
I know I may get flamed for expressing these questions, and fans are unfairly demanding of their heroes, but I just feel the need to understand more about what your life is life now, and how you write.
I guess I want to be able to picture you in my head, and know that you are happily doing your work, and it hasn't become some kind of baroque chore or something for you.
So, that is my incisive questioning. That being asked, I want to say I am so grateful to have you around in any capacity. You brighten up the world every day you are in it, dear sir, and have already left a legacy many of us will treasure.
Thank you for reading.
Ebert: Nobody has, and nobody ever will, ghost-write a single word for me. (Modesty does not prevent me from adding, "Nor could they"). I go to the movies, I come home, I type on my trusty MacBook, and there's your mental picture right there. From from a chore, it's a pleasure. See my blog entry, "I think I'm musing my mind."
Maybe I've seen too many movies, but I keep picturing you in a padded cell, with a sign that says "CASH COW" around your neck. And the University of Chicago linguists who have studied your syntax and your "likes and dislikes" are allowed in to remove the hood and take photos of you before they sprint back to write the next "Ebert Nugget" for a hungry world. I would like to have this paranoia alleviated, although I recognize it is not something you created.
I was fascinated by your banter with Siskel because I didn't realize he did have such difficulty organizing his thoughts into speech. I'm a speech/language pathologist and just from hearing that short clip, I'd have to say that it's possible he had a mild language disorder, or was on the low end of spoken language ability. That does not mean, of course, that he was not intelligent.
After your surgery, I assume you acquired an augmentative communication device. I'm am very glad that you retained the use of your brain and your hands and therefore retaining your ability to communicate! I hope more of the public begin to understand that you don't need a voice to speak.
Ebert: He always seemed all-too articulate to me!
In High School I exchanged a little blue razor for a little blue monkey in a barrell of monkeys. She found it under her pillow with its arms broken off and set me a curriculuum of rock and roll music.
Product placement: SesterFly, the apex and axis of the Elderslie High School Band.
My soul mate waits for me at coles supermarket in Camden. My Solicitor is James Morse. My lecturers have eyebrows like the University of Western Sydney; watch me like a Hawk, from ye olde Merry England.
Yin Yang distorted into a Z, and with teeth.
Favourite album: Alleged former infatuation junkie. Born on the 30th of August 1983. A bit of a croc really.
An old Earth creationist at heart and am obstinately unhorrified by the dark water through which I swim.
Will translate my Father's mathematics into English over the coming year.
Mother still a Communist.
?????????????????????????????? buzzing like flies.
Reooooooooooooow. Solomon8785, my bike lock.
Erin Rolfe preferable to Read as blushing bride, but when one feels next to suffocation it is simple enough to breathe through a reed.
What would Hitchcock do bracelet?
My condolences and regrets to you. Look after your bones. Save it for the ladies. I bore witness to the end of a marriage when my Grandmother died. She was once hit by a bus. Buses don't stop for me when I am antsy. Flew over all Russia and China.
Don't believe Indigenous people are presient or omniscient but rather that in the totality of our knowledge we might undo the puzzle.
I told my Father: you cannot solve it all at once, you have to think about how it is designed.
Primitive Radio Gods my favourite song. Standing at a broken phone booth with money in my hand.
Ace Ventura 1 much better than the sequel. Peace, my animal friends!
Cable Guy a cult favourite with me and my friend Steven Heath, who was once Steven Jerram. I called him StevenMorningGerald and he told me to read Auden.
the word Audacity rather amusing.
Christians took me deep in the Earth and we all held hands and prayed and I, breaking the silence, made a cows mooooooooooooing noise.
Cows that moo over moons as new as that crisp cusp towards which you voyage now. Ted Hughes early work under-rated. I know the drill. I can hear young Frieda and Tsar Nicholas II squeaking in the background noise of my Sylvia Plath tape. The confidence in her late work simply the lava undertow, an echo. We can hear and translate it in our minds if we feel like it. I know how it might sound, how it might unfold, and where I might have to purchase it.
So perhaps I am your little brother, your little cousin, your faint echo. My first song was a yawn, sounding, if you will, like a child being born.
Bleach my favourite album.
Cat on a hot tin roof my favourite film.
There are too many Elephants. Too many Elephants. Too many elephants.
My English Teacher Mrs Grocholsky told me I aught to "Play the game".
Phillip Ruddock not as bad as his reputation. Whatchu talkin' bout Phillip?
I can see clearly now the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Solomon, Rashomon, Rastafarrian.
Kati, dark-skinned Mary, Keeper of my infancy. Second Mother.
When my only literacy was made of bananas and paw-paw, from thin, to fat, just before the rains came.
Sorry for the unholy prayers we made together.
Not sorry for the true prayer in the after-hell.
For you, there'll be no more crying. To you the sun will be shining. But most of all I wish it from your first choice.
YOur Kodak Colour Kin. Your lost kitten. Your Alley cat. Your Mother.
Imagination.
Sesterfly.
Ebert: I posted this because (1) I really enjoyed the writing, and (2) it provides a bit of a break, doesn't it?
Roger, thank you for sharing this, and doing so with your characteristic candor, humor, and humility. You are the same wise, funny, intelligent, kind man you were when I got the chance to participate in your Compuserve forum in the early 90s. Your eloquent writing says more than most people could ever communicate out loud.
love always,
Glory
Sesterfly is really fly. Did this just show up in your in box? I'd love to know who writes stuff like this. I don't understand a word of it, but it is mesmerizing. (The Solomon American Express Wakeling piece, I mean). Thanks for posting it.
Ebert: I appreciated it, too.
The minute you started telling the story about the bespoke linen suit, I knew exactly which one it was, since I had greatly admired it in your photos from warm-weather events and film festivals. I hope perhaps you have had it taken in and turned into an $80 suit, now that you're svelte.
I have sent the link to this post to my sister-in-law in hopes that it might prompt my brother to adopt healthier eating habits. Unfortunately, he's the lawyer in the family, not his wife, so he has a retort for everything. I don't know exactly how Chaz managed to "drag" you to Pritikin (an amicus brief?), but she could probably start a speaking tour with tips for women who are at their wits' end. Thank you for sharing your story!
Ebert: As I recall, she announced we were going.
It's not a weight-loss place, but a nutrition/exercise/longevity center. Lots of Type A types there who don't have time for fun and games at spas, More men than your usual spa. Maybe 40-50 percent. Lectures by doctors and scientists, not new age gurus.
I just want to thank you for all you have done for the world of movies. Your books have opened my eyes to movies that I might have missed - I never watched your show and my love affair with your criticism is new. I found you only two years ago have similar tastes to mine. Surprised by this I have become a die-hard true fan of not only your writing, but of your evangelism for films of all sorts and from all time periods.
Thank you for sharing this. As somebody who has a very bad case of Fibromyalgia and has had her gall bladder removed as well as a total hysterectomy before the age of 37 and my adrenal gland stopped working and nearly killed me just in 2008, I envy your success through the years. I write, I do modeling and photography, but my illness has trapped me for the past nine years into a pattern of trying to succeed only to have my illness kill my plans.
So my envy is not bitter, but glad for you, and glad that you have led such a seemingly happy life. My best wishes to you and Chaz and the rest of your family.
Ebert: It is so exhausting to have your body let you down. But as long as your mind is ready to play...
Roger Ebert (if I may call you by your first and last name),
You are my favorite (my favorite anything lol). It is one of my greatest joys in life to watch a movie, argue the pros and cons with a friend, and then rush to the Suntimes website to see whether or not you and I share the same opinion of it (about a 50-50 split thus far, I'd estimate). Thank you for all you've contributed to the world. I hate to be so grandiose, but no other phrase was appropriate.
This blog post was just WONDERFUL, I followed a link to it from another site under the heading, "Ebert on being fat." Their assessment of this post was mighty simplistic. This post was about alot more than that.
I'm 26 and have been a huge (HUGE) fan of yours for, let's see, maybe....8, 9 years now. You're the best. My boyfriend is jealous of how much time and attention I invest into your suntimes website (ha). Wow, this comment turned out a lot more fawning(ly?) than I'd anticipated. It was my intention to come off snarky. I'll end here. Hmm...is their anything constructive or actually useful I can say? No.
Oh, yes. Do you have an interest, by any chance, in finding out the demographics of your readership/fan base? I sometimes wonder how many other 26-year-old, Black Baltimoreans luuuuuuuurve Roger Ebert.
An old reader of your reviews and newly converted reader of your blog,
Mel
Ebert: I'll bet you a shiny new dime I get a post from at least one such Baltimorean, but to help my odds let's widen the net to "under 30." And change "luuuuuuuurve" to "like."
I'm a memoir writer. And my website is filled with stories and photos of my life as a single woman in NYC and the conflicts I experience as a second generation Italian -- feeling at times more Italian than American. Looking back on films is along with gazing at old family photos a great stimulus for writing -- the film while having a soundtrack for its own time and characters provides yet another for the person who sees it. I was very young when I saw A Man For All Seasons and knew it was "my type of movie," I only remember the feeling after the film but not a thing about the story. Thanks for reminding me why it was so important, well done and beautiful.
Geraldeena
Dear Roger
Thanks for sharing some of those moments between you and Gene. He was the best, but you are better. I never knew how much I admired and appreciated him until he was gone. And the friendship you two obviously shared, beyond any competition, has inspired me in my everyday life as well. Thank you for sharing some of the humorous moments you shared with him behind the scenes. Your relationship has shown me how awesome it is that two people can be from such totally different backgrounds, and disagree with each other as often as you did, and yet still love admire and respect each other so much. If only we could all earn from your example.
Roger,
Thank you for sharing your moments with Gene. There have been few late night show appearances that made me laugh more than when you and Gene went on letterman. You two seemed like such great friends (I'm sure you were) and what was engaging for me was when you two met on movies on which you disagreed (Blue Velvet, Full Metal Jacket, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas). Actually, speaking of Terry Gilliam, I always wondered the reason behind your dislike for his movies...his ventures into fantastic and striking visuals of fantasy always kinda reminded me of something out of Fellini (of whom I believe you are a fan).
Roger, I must comment on what a fantastic suit that is. The shirt and tie are perfectly complimentary too. I love that you chose a cream and not a blinding white, so much more lasting. What do you know I have a cream suit custom made from Bangkok as well...I love it, but haven't found an occasion to wear it yet - always afraid it'll get dirty.
Also, maybe it's just me but I find you looking much happier in your post-surgery photo than before. Perhaps it's the weight of your mind, the pre-photo has a sombreness that can't be shaked.
I really really really hope to meet you one day, and if I do, I really really really hope that you would be wearing that cream suit.
Ebert: Just call me the $100 Man.
Roger, not sure it'll be that evident to you, but I see a distinct resemblance to you at 27 and shots of Rowdy Roddy Piper I've seen.
Bring up the Leonard Nimoy music: Rod's my all time favorite in wrestling, as are you in movie criticism... the both of you have got ill and played nip and tuck with the grim reaper these past few years.
If you add a "ge" to "Rod," we get your famous and well known nickname. Plus, "Ebert" is German for "Piper." All right I made that last bit up, but I think we're getting somewhere.
You're right and good to re-run these past columns. I can't keep up with your archives. If I ever needed anybody to pick on me about anything, it'd have to be Gene Siskel.
Roger, didn't know if you have ever seen this video before but it's by this guy called the "Nostalgia Critic" who does reviews of things from the 80s and 90s. I ran across one he did on you and Gene Siskel. Of course you know the whole story of your own show, but it's a good watch for someone else's perspective and what your show meant to them and how your show has touched them in a way. He also shows pictures of you signing a book for him and has a little something to say about it. Check it out if you haven't seen it.
You can watch the video here.
Long time reader and fellow film lover,
Mike