Roger Ebert

I’m reading newspapers again

Roger Ebert

Of course I’ve never stopped reading the Sun-Times. That’s the start of my daily ritual. But while I used to read four newspapers every day, I found that, gradually, I wasn’t. You know how it is. You get mired in the matrix of the web and think you’re reading all the news you can handle. You have the papers, but they’re unopened at the end of the day.

However, during the election season and the Inauguration euphoria, I renewed our subscription to the New York Times and remembered, at first almost unconsciously, how much I enjoy reading a newspaper. The pages follow in orderly progression. The headlines and artwork point me to stories I find interesting. I am settled. I am serene. I read, I think. I am freed from clicking and the hectic need to scroll, to bounce between links. I don’t have search for the print stories. They find me.

Reading the paper, September 7, 2007 (By Elizabeth Perry; click)

Roger Ebert’s Last Words, con’t.

Roger Ebert

Christy Lemire wrote me: “So, everyone seems pretty moved by the Esquire piece on you, but I’m wondering what you thought about it. It’s so intimate, personal.”

Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? It was also well written, I thought. When I turned to it in the magazine, I got a jolt from the full-page photograph of my jaw drooping. Not a lovely sight. But then I am not a lovely sight, and in a moment I thought, well, what the hell. It’s just as well it’s out there. That’s how I look, after all.

It was an inexplicable instinct that led me to agree when Chris Jones contacted me requesting an interview. The idea of Esquire appealed to me. I did a bunch of interviews for them in the 1970s, when it was the crucible of the New Journalism.

Here’s another fine mess

Roger Ebert

What we can’t seem to accept is that the oil is leaking and we can’t stop it. This doesn’t fit the modern narrative in which we can fix anything if we get organized and throw enough money at it. An earthquake devastates Haiti? The world rushes to its aid. A tsunami wreaks havoc? Emergency teams descend. Swine flu? We get inoculated. The economy collapses? Bail it out.

This pattern has become embedded in cable news. First, the story is “Breaking News.” Then it’s assigned a catch-phrase, a graphic, maybe even its own theme song. Then comes an airplane crash, a hurricane or forest fire to change the subject. We mourn, we repair, we prevent, we blame, we pass laws, we raise standards, we know the drill.

The error of political prayer

Roger Ebert

There are vertical prayers and horizontal prayers. Vertical prayers are directed heavenward. Horizontal prayers are directed sideways at others.

It fills me with misgivings when a possible Presidential candidate warms up by running a “prayer rally” in a Texas sports stadium.

A prayer “rally?” I can think of words like gathering and meeting that might more perfectly evoke the spirit. Prayer rallies make me think of pep rallies. Their purpose is to jack up the spirits of the home team and alarm the other side.

The anger of the festering fringe

Roger Ebert

I’ve had these thoughts for some time, but have been reluctant to express them. Now so many others have voiced them that it’s pointless to remain silent. I am frightened by the climate of insane anti-Obama hatred in this country. I’m not referring to traditional conservatives or Republicans. They’re part of the process. I’m speaking of the lunatic fringe, the frothers, the extremist rabble who are sweeping up the ignorant and credulous into a bewildering and fearsome tide of reckless rhetoric.

There have always been nuts. Remember when the John Birch society thought Kennedy was a communist? In those innocent days most of the American people were reasonable. They’d shake their heads in wonder at such a weird notion. Kennedy might be one of those liberals, but he wasn’t a commie. And when people said Johnson murdered Kennedy? Also ridiculous. But slowly, ominously, things began to change. After his death, it was said that Edward Kennedy was a Soviet agent. These theories have rabid subscribers.

Obama is a Muslim. Obama was born in Kenya. Obama was a terrorist. Obama will destroy Medicare. Obama will kill your grandmother. Obama is a racist. Obama wants atheism taught in the schools. Obama wants us to pay for the health care of illegal immigrants.

I’m a proud Brainiac

Roger Ebert

Roger Ebert is a moron! Transformers 2 is the best action movie ever. Don’t listem to that moron! He is only into slow boring romantic movies. That is his type of movies. Michael Bay did a great good. Roger… your an old fart! John C

Having now absorbed all or parts of 750 responses to my complaints about “Transformers,” I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that most of those writing agree with me that it is a horrible movie. After all, look where they’ve chosen to comment. There have, however been some disagreements that I thought were reasonable. These writers mostly said they had a thing about the Transformers toys of their childhoods, or liked the animation on TV, or like to see stuff blowed up real good. In that case. Michael Bay is your man. If you enjoyed the movie, there is no way I can say you’re wrong. About yourself, anyway.

Another common line of attack was disturbing. It came from people who said I was out of touch with the tastes of the audience. That the movie’s detractors (lumped together as “the critics”) like only obscure movies that nobody else does–art films, documentaries, foreign films, indies, movies made 50 years ago–even, God forbid, “classics.” One poster argued that “Transformers” was better than that boring old movie “Casablanca.”

I was informed I didn’t “get” Michael Bay. I was too old, “of the wrong generation,” or an elitist or a liberal–although not, I was relieved to find, a “liberal elitist.” It seems to me “Transformers” also qualifies for conservative scorn. It is obliviously nonpartisan. Yet one commented said I hated the movie because it was an attack on President Obama. I was afraid to say I hadn’t noticed that, because then I would be told I hadn’t even seen the movie. It is possible to miss many of the plot points, strange in a movie with so few of them. Veiled in-jokes about politicians and famous people, popular in animation and mass market movies, come with the territory. I enjoy them. The apparent reference to Obama was no big deal, although a reader from Germany told me the actual name “Obama” was used in the German dub. That possibly didn’t happen without Bay hearing about it.

Open the hurt locker and learn how rough men come hunting for souls

Roger Ebert

“The Hurt Locker” represents a return to strong, exciting narrative. Here is a film about a bomb disposal expert that depends on character, dialogue and situation to develop almost unbearable suspense. It contains explosions, but only a few, and it is not about explosions, but about hoping that none will happen. That sense of hope is crucial. When we merely want to see stuff blowed up real good in a movie, that means the movie contains no one we give a damn about.

Don’t read me first!

Roger Ebert

If you ever intend to read my review of “Tru Loved,” please read it now. This is so essential that I’m taking a risk by posting this blog entry on the same day the review goes up. The review brings into focus a belief that is at the core of my critical approach. I have cited it many times. Please forgive me for repeating it. As the critic Robert Warshow wrote, “A man goes to the movies. The critic must be honest enough to admit that he is that man.” In other words, whatever you saw, whatever you felt, whatever you did, you must say so. For example, two things that cannot be convincingly faked are laughter and orgasms. If a movie made you laugh, as a critic you have to be honest and report that. Maybe not so much with orgasms.

[Click clock to read dial.]

If you reached the end of my “Tru Loved” review, you found that I stopped watching at about eight minutes. How did this discovery make you feel? My editor, a wise and expert woman who has saved my ass many times over more than 20 years, was horrified.

I Was a Teenage Newshound

Roger Ebert

My first professional newspaper job was on The News-Gazette in my home town of Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. I was 15. The pay was 75 cents a hour, eventually climbing even higher. I was not an intern. That was a salary. I was a sports writer, graduating to general assignment in the summer, and I pumped out reams of copy. I recall a special section commemorating the opening of a bowling alley, for which I wrote at least 15 stories, all with my proud byline; I even interviewed a pin-spotter and the owner of a shoe rental franchise.

The Fall of the Revengers

Roger Ebert

The day will come when “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” will be studied in film classes and shown at cult film festivals. It will be seen, in retrospect, as marking the end of an era. Of course there will be many more CGI-based action epics, but never again one this bloated, excessive, incomprehensible, long (149 minutes) or expensive (more than $200 million). Like the dinosaurs, the species has grown too big to survive, and will be wiped out in a cataclysmic event, replaced by more compact, durable forms.

Oh, I expect the movie will make a lot of money. It took in $16 million just in its Wednesday midnight opening. Todd Gilchrist, a most reasonable critic at Cinematical, wrote that it feels “destined to be the biggest movie of all time.” I don’t believe “Titanic” and “The Dark Knight” have much to fear, however, because (1) it has little to no appeal for non-fanboy or female audiences, and (2) many of those who do see it will find they simply cannot endure it. God help anyone viewing it from the front row of a traditional IMAX theater–even from the back row. It may benefit from being seen via DVD, with your “picture” setting dialed down from Vivid to Standard.

The term Assault on the Senses has become a cliché. It would be more accurate to describe the film simply as “painful.” The volume is cranked way up, probably on studio instructions, and the sound track consists largely of steel crashing discordantly against steel. Occasionally a Bot voice will roar thunderingly out of the left-side speakers, (1) reminding us of Surround Sound, or (2) reminding the theater to have the guy take another look at those right-side speakers. Beneath that is boilerplate hard-pounding action music, alternating with deep bass voices intoning what sounds like Gregorian chant without the Latin, or maybe even without the words: Just apprehensive sounds, translating as Oh, no! No! These Decepticons® are going to steal the energy of the sun and destroy the Earth! The hard-pounding action music, on the other hand, is what Hollywood calls Mickey Mouse Music, so named because, like the music in a Mickey Mouse cartoon, it faithfully mirrors the movements on screen. In this case, it is impatient and urgent. I recommend listening to it on your iPod the next time you have difficulty at the doctor’s office filling the little plastic cup.

Memories are made of this

Roger Ebert

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Gene Siskel and I fought like cats and dogs, and we made some good television.

During those early years for “Sneak Previews” our favorite occupation was dreaming up “special editions” which were sort of like the “think pieces” we wrote for our papers.

Time keeps on slip, slip, slippin’ away

Roger Ebert

I sense it’s about time to share some of my thoughts about television and movie critics, myself, and the past, present and future of my corner of the critics-on-TV adventure. My friends A .O. Scott and Michael Phillips are well into their first season as the new co-hosts of “At the Movies.” Richard Roeper just announced he will be streaming reviews on his web site, and they will re-run a week later on the Starz cable channel. I wish them all good fortune. And good health.

Cannes #8: Of lies and ghosts and fathers

Roger Ebert

The days dwindle down to a precious few. At 6 p.m.on Friday, Cannes is oddly silent. The tumult on the streets a week ago today is forgotten. There are empty seats at some screenings. The locals of Cannes know this is the time to stand in the ticket lines. The daily editions of Varsity and Hollywood Reporter ceased Thursday. Friends are in Paris, or London, or home. Some few diehards stay for the award ceremony Sunday night.

OK, here’s the f***ing review

Roger Ebert

Ennis Ermer and Peter Oldring are roommates who co-star with Natalie Lisinska in “Young People F***ing.”

In my previous blog entry, I told of receiving a message from a reader in Montreal who wanted know how I would deal with reviewing a new Canadian film with the f-word in its title. Would my paper print the title? What were my thoughts? I now have an opportunity to deal directly with those questions, because Steve Hoban, the film’s producer, has sent me a DVD, along with a bulletin about its June 13 opening date in Canada, and a U.S. release later this summer.

In the sweet bye-and-bye

Roger Ebert

One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe Zero is lonelier, because it doesn’t even have itself for company. On the other hand, maybe Zero isn’t really a number. Even if it is, let’s not go there. Too deep for me. Let’s start out easy, with One. Everybody on board? Good. If one is lonely, what is the cure? Two, obviously, even if Two the loneliest number since the number one.

I believe that’s why reproduction in all species requires two mates. Except for species that reproduce all by themselves. That is known as parthenogenesis. It is a bleak life. You’re always the one who has to get up in the middle of the night, and when you masturbate, you fantasize about yourself.

The effect of effects

Roger Ebert

I’ve just been watching “The Thief of Bagdad” (1940), which has probably the most influential special effects of all pre-CGI films. It’s going into the Great Movies Collection, not for the effects, of course, but because it is a sublime entertainment on a level with “The Wizard of Oz” or the first “Star Wars.” But there are few effects in “Star Wars” (1977) that were not invented for, experimented with, or perfected in “The Thief of Bagdad.” And some of them had their genesis in Raoul Walsh’s magnificent 1924 silent film of the same name starring Douglas Fairbanks, Sr.

Left: Rex Ingram, as the genie, towers over Sabu, as the thief, in “The Thief of Bagdad.” The shot was made by combining real footage of Ingram, close to the camera, and Sabu, several hundred feet away.