Roger Ebert

Cannes #4: A good film, a bad film, and a friend

Roger Ebert

Mike Leigh has long been a great director, but now he is surely at the top of his form. “Another Year” has premiered here and is the film everyone I talk with loves the most. It is so beautifully sure and perceptive in its record of one year in the life of a couple happily married, and their relatives and friends, not so happy. After “Vera Drake” (2004) and “Happy-Go-Lucky” (2008), Leigh cannot seem to step wrong.

A women at the press conference asked Leigh (left) “did you have to make Mary so sad?” She might as well have asked, “did you have to make Tom and Gerri so happy? ”

CIFF 2010: Our capsule reviews

Roger Ebert

• Bill Stamets and Roger Ebert

The 46th Chicago International Film Festival will play this year at one central location, on the many screens of the AMC River East 21, 322 E. Illinois. A festivalgoers and filmmakers’ lounge will be open during festival hours at the Lucky Strike on the second level. Tickets can be ordered online at CIFF’s website, which also organizes the films by title, director and country. Tickets also at AMC; sold out films have Rush Lines. More capsules will be added here.

When a movie hurts too much

Roger Ebert

The blog entry “In Search of Redemption” inspired an outpouring of reader comments remarkable not only for their number but for their intelligence and thought. It became obvious that many of us go to the movies seeking some sort of release or healing. Many of you mentioned titles that especially affected you; two of my most-admired films, “Hoop Dreams” and “Grave of the Fireflies,” were frequently listed. You all had your reasons. Now Ali Arikan, a longtime contributor to this site, has written me about why he was so affected by a relatively unlikely title, “The Out-Of-Towners” (1999).  His reasons were personal; he can post them below if he chooses to. But in connection with his explanation, he quoted the first paragraph of one of my reviews.

Ten things I know about the mosque

Roger Ebert

1. America missed a golden opportunity to showcase its Constitutional freedoms. The instinctive response of Americans should have been the same as President Obama’s: Muslims have every right to build there. Where one religion can build a church, so can all religions.

2. The First Amendment comes down to this: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” It does not come down to: “The First Amendment gives me the right to repeat the N-word 11 times on the radio to an

“Thor” is not a Meet Cute for the gods.

Roger Ebert

I didn’t attend the April 30 critics’ screening for “Thor” because it was at the same time Ebertfest was showing “A Small Act,” about an 88-year-old woman named Hilde Back. She’d flown from Sweden, and I wanted be onstage to present her with the Golden Thumb. Missing “Thor 3D” was not an inconsolable loss, because Richard Roeper covered it for the paper and I was able to see it in Chicago in nice, bright 2D. The house was surprisingly well-populated for a 8:50 p.m. screening on a Monday, suggesting that some people, at least, will make an effort to avoid 3D.

“Thor” is failure as a movie, but a success as marketing, an illustration of the ancient carnival tactic of telling the rubes anything to get them into the tent.

I think I’m musing my mind

Roger Ebert

Blind people develop a more acute sense of hearing. Deaf people can better notice events on the periphery, and comprehend the quick movements of lips and sign language. What about people who lose the ability to speak? We expand other ways of communicating.

There are three ways I can “speak.” I can print notes. I can type on my laptop, and a built-in voice says them aloud. I can use my own pidgin sign language, combining waving, pointing, shrugging, slapping my forehead, tracing letters on my palm, mime, charades, and more uses of “thumbs up” and “thumbs down” than I ever dreamed of.

Click on image to expand

Another path is open to me in the age of the internet. I can talk with new friends all over the world. Writing has always been second nature to me, as satisfying in a different way as speaking. Maybe because I was an only child with lots of solitary time, I always felt the need to write, and read. I was editor of my grade school, high

Sittin’ in the front row

Roger Ebert

Where do you like to sit when you go to the movies? I know where I do, and I even suppose I know why. I started reconsidering my thinking, however, when I read David Bordwell’s enlightening new blog entry, “Down in front!”

Here is a man who recalls every film he has ever seen, and where, and when, and why, and where he sat, and usually who he sat next to. That person has often been his wife, Kristin Thompson. That they take turns writing entries on the world’s best film blog may tell you something.

Well, here’s what I think

Roger Ebert

I was watching Tony Scott on the Charlie Rose program, and he said, in connection with “The Reader,” that he was getting tired of so many movies about the Holocaust. I didn’t agree or disagree. What I thought was, “The Reader” isn’t about the Holocaust. It’s about not speaking when you know you should.

That’s something I’m guilty of. I hold my tongue all the time, especially in social situations where my opinions might cause unhappiness. Those often involve politics and religion, two subjects that a lot of mothers tell their kids never to discuss at a dinner party–unless, of course, everybody at the table agrees, and then what’s the point?

“Iron Man” and Robert Downey Jr.’s quirky performance

Roger Ebert

When I caught up with “Iron Man,” a broken hip had delayed me and the movie had already been playing for three weeks. What I heard during that time was that a lot of people loved it, that they were surprised to love it so much, and that Robert Downey Jr.’s performance was special. Apart from that, all I knew was that the movie was about a big iron man. I didn’t even know that a human occupied it, and halfway thought that the Downey character’s brain had been transplanted into a robot, or a fate equally weird.

I feel good! I knew that I would!

Roger Ebert

I’ve been saying for years that I never cry during sad moments in the movies, only during moments about goodness. At the end of “Terms of Endearment,” I didn’t cry because of Debra Winger’s death, but because of how she said goodbye to her sons. Now I’ve have discovered a scientific explanation for why I feel the way that I do, and there is even a name for my specific emotion.

I wasn’t seeking an explanation, and I’m not sure I really wanted one. And, for that matter, I don’t really cry, at least not in the wiping-my-eyes and blowing-my-nose fashion. What I experience is the welling up of a few tears in my eyes, a certain tightness in my throat, and a feeling of uplift: Yes, there is a good person, doing a good thing. And when the movie is over, I don’t want to talk with anyone. After such movies I notice that many audience members remain in a kind of reverie. Those who break the spell by feeling compelled to say something don’t have an emotional clue.

The great American documentary

Roger Ebert

Today, fifteen years after I first saw it, I believe “Hoop Dreams” is the great American documentary. No other documentary has ever touched me more deeply. It was relevant then, and today, as inner city neighborhoods sink deeper into the despair of children murdering children, it is more relevant. It tells the stories of two 14-year-olds, Arthur Agee and William Gates, how they dreamed of stardom in the NBA, and how basketball changed their lives. Basketball, and this film.

Photo copyright by Roka Walsh. Used with permission

“Hoop Dreams” observed its 15th anniversary Wednesday night at the Gene Siskel Film Center. Agee and Gates were both there. Gates, now a minister, observed that in one period of time he buried 20 victims of gang violence, 16 of them under 16. Agee said when he looks at his friends in the film today, “ten of them are no longer with us.” Yet there they sat, men of around 40 now, articulate, thoughtful, and spoke about how their lives began to change on a Chicago playground 22 years ago when a movie camera showed up.

“We started out to make a little 30-minute documentary about a kid who had basketball dreams,” Steve James, the director of the film, said Wednesday night. This was at a benefit for Kartemquin Films, the 40-year-old Chicago documentary group that produced the film.

Don’t move. I want to move. Don’t move.

Roger Ebert

When Sydney Pollack was making “Out of Africa” in 1985, he considered the problem of how to film Meryl Streep and Robert Redford in love scenes that were not explicit, yet were erotic. “When I have Streep and Redford together,” he told me, “I don’t want to see them strip naked and writhe around in bed together. The challenge was to find love scenes that would have emotion and passion and yet not violate a certain place where we want to see them. There are two really sensual love scenes. One of them is the undressing scene. I always like scenes like that. I think they’re sexy. I tried to make a sort of passionate dance out of them undressing each other. The second scene consists of three absolutely terrific lines I took out of a screenplay that was written in 1973 when Nicholas Roeg was going to direct this project. It’s only three lines, but what lines: “Don’t move. I want to move. Don’t move.”

Where I stand on the Occupy movement

Roger Ebert

I commissioned this chart to make my position clear. I’ve avoided the subject until now because, while I instinctively felt I must be in favor of the Occupiers, I wasn’t sure what the movement stood for. I support most populist uprisings on matter of principle, and would perhaps even support the Tea Party were it not demonstrating in favor of the very things that are wrong.

Dude, where’s my breakfast?

Roger Ebert

Breathless reports have swooped around the web about John Anderson, film critic for Variety, pounding the legendary publicist Jeff Dowd (aka The Dude) at Sundance. There was a jab to the chest! One to the shoulder! Dowd kept his guard down! A punch to the head! Anderson turned and walked away, then came back and threw his best right to the jaw!

I have this blow-by-blow account from The Dude himself. Park City Police Officer Bob deBotelho responded after a call from the Yarrow restaurant, collected eyewitness testimony, and offered

Vincent P. Falk and His Amazing Technicolor Dream Coats

Roger Ebert

You might never have heard of Vincent P. Falk, but if you’ve been a visitor to Chicago you may well have seen him. He has performed for the patrons on every single tour boat cruising the Chicago River. And he is known to every viewer of the NBC/5 morning news, and the ABC/7 afternoon news. He’s the smiling middle-aged man with a limitless variety of spectacular suits. He stands on the Michigan or State street bridges, showing off his latest stupefying suit. He flashes the flamboyant lining, takes it off, spins it in great circles above his head, and then does his “spin move,” pivoting first left, then right, while whirling the coat in the air. Then he puts it on again and waves to the tourists on the boat, by now passing under the bridge, always wearing a suit for the occasion: Shimmering black for Kwanzaa, red for Christmas, neon green for St. Patrick’s Day so blinding Mayor Daley wouldn’t have the nerve to wear it.

For ABC/7, he stands outside the big windows of the news studio, which open onto State Street. You can’t miss him. For NBC/5, he’s worked his way up to regular Friday morning appearances. The station’s news studio overlooks Pioneer Court Plaza, and when the anchors go outside to chat with people, there’s Vincent. He’s agreed to appear exclusively on the Channel 5 early news, where I have never seen him, because his usual spin on Fridays is just before the 6 a.m. sign-on of the Today show.

TIFF #7: It was a very good day

Roger Ebert

I saw three new movies on Monday. Each one could have been the best film of the day. I can’t choose among them, so alphabetically: Werner Herzog’s “Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans,” Atom Egoyan’s “Chloe” and Rodrigo Garcia’s “Mother and Child.” A story involving a cop uncontrollably strung out on drugs. A story involving a wife who meets a hooker. A story about three woman whose lives are shaped by the realities of adoption. Three considerable filmmakers. Three different tones. Three stories that improvise on genres instead of following them. Three titles that made me wonder, why can’t every day be like this?

Nicolas Cage and Werner Herzog were surely destined to work together. Radical talents are drawn to one another. Cage tends to exceed the limitations of a role, Herzog tends to exceed the limitations of film itself. Knowing nothing about conditions during the shoot, my guess is they found artistic harmony. If not, they ended up hardly on speaking terms. Either way would have worked.