Roger Ebert

Winter is icumen in

Roger Ebert

It may be because I live in the city now, but I no longer see children playing for hours in the snow. I remember a pediatrician advising my parents to send me outside to play as a treatment for some “condition.” Of course, he later was found to be an alcoholic, so there’s no telling.

There were two kinds of snow, powder snow and packing snow. Packing snow was what you wanted for snowballs, snowmen and snow forts. We threw snowballs at one another and at the sides of passing trucks. We built snowmen, pleased by the perfect logic involved in their construction.

I’ve got the sweetest set of wheels in town

Roger Ebert

It is unthinkable that within a few years, there may be no more new Fords, no more Dodges, no more Chevys to drive to the levee. It is less than a year since the manufacture of Postum was discontinued. Meccano sets are made of plastic. Piece by piece, the American prospect is being dismantled. Will the pulse of teenage boys quicken at the sight of the new Kia or Hyundai? Will they envy their pal because his dad drives a Camaro?

The longest thread evolves

Roger Ebert

A week or so ago I began to receive feedback that posts weren’t being displayed on my entry “Win Ben Stein’s Mind,” from Dec. 3, 2008. That was my attack on Stein’s film “Expelled,” which supported Creationism against the Theory of Evolution. The comment thread, having reached 2,648 posts, many of them hundreds of words in length, was fed up, and wasn’t going to take it anymore. I consulted the web gods at the Sun-Times. I was told…uh…ahem…perhaps the thread was growing a tad long, and was maxing out the software? After 2,640 posts and 239,093 words, perhaps this was the case.

Video games 13,823, Huck Finn 8,088

Roger Ebert

If they had their choice, 63.1% of people would value “a great video game” over Huckleberry Finn. That’s the result of a completely unscientific survey I conducted in two places: Twitter, and my recent blog about video games.

The choice approached the abstract, because I didn’t specify they had to play the game or read the novel. Like all web-based surveys, this one is a 100% accurate representation of whoever chose to vote, for whatever reason, whoever they were. In theory, no one could vote twice.

The best feature films of 2010

Roger Ebert

David Fincher’s “The Social Network”is emerging as the consensus choice as best film of 2010. Most of the critics’ groups have sanctified it, and after its initial impact it has only grown it stature. I think it is an early observer of a trend in our society, where we have learned new ways of thinking of ourselves: As members of a demographic group, as part of a database, as figures in…a social network.

Cannes #4: What were they thinking of?

Roger Ebert

There are few prospects more alarming than a director seized by an Idea. I don’t mean an idea for a film, a story, a theme, a tone, any of those ideas. I’m thinking of a director whose Idea takes control of his film and pounds it into the ground and leaves the audience alienated and resentful. Such a director is Brillante Mendoza of the Philippines, and the victim of his Idea is his Official Selection at Cannes 2009, “Kinatay.” Here is a film that forces me to apologize to Vincent Gallo for calling “The Brown Bunny” the worst film in the history of the Cannes Film Festival.

After extensive recutting, the Gallo film was redeemed. I don’t think editing is going to do the trick for “Kinatay.” If Mendoza wants to please any viewer except for the most tortured theorist (one of those careerists who thinks movies are about arcane academic debates and not people) he’s going to have to remake his entire second half.

The chimes at midnight

Roger Ebert

Unless we find an angel, our television program will go off the air at the end of its current season. There. I’ve said it. Usually in television, people use evasive language. Not me. We’ll be gone. I want to be honest about why this is. We can’t afford to finance it any longer.

A prayer beneath the Tree of Life

Roger Ebert

Terrence Malick’s new film is a form of prayer. It created within me a spiritual awareness, and made me more alert to the awe of existence. I believe it stands free from conventional theologies, although at its end it has images that will evoke them for some people. It functions to pull us back from the distractions of the moment, and focus us on mystery and gratitude.

Not long after its beginning we apparently see the singularity of the Big Bang, when the universe came into existence. It hurtles through space and time, until it comes gently to a halt in a small Texas town in the 1950s. Here we will gradually learn who some of the people were as the film first opened.

TIFF #5: The man who didn’t land

Roger Ebert

It was two years ago on Saturday night that Jason Reitman’s “Juno” had its world premiere here at Toronto. The standing ovation that night was the most spontaneous and joyous I can remember. Still vibrating, Reitman stood on the stage of the Ryerson Theater and vowed, “I’m gonna open all of my films right here in this theater at Toronto.” True to his word, his new film “Up in the Air” played the Ryerson at 6 p.m., Saturday–same time, same place.

It stars George Clooney in one of his best performances, as a frequent flyer. His ambition is to pass the 10 million-mile mark in the American Airlines Aadvantage Program, something very few ever do. Asked on an airplane where he lives, he replies, “Here.” He’s a Termination Facilitator. He fires people for a living. When corporations need to downsize quickly, he flies in and breaks the news to the new former employees. In a lousy economy, his business is great.

Not in defense of Armond White

Roger Ebert

On Thursday night I posted in entry in defense of Armond White’s review of “District 9.” Overnight I received reader comments causing me to rethink that entry, in particular this eye-popping link supplied by Wes Lawson. I realized I had to withdraw my overall defense of White. I was not familiar enough with his work. It is baffling to me that a critic could praise “Transformers 2” but not “Synecdoche, NY.” Or “Death Race” but not “There Will be Blood.” I am forced to conclude that White is, as charged, a troll. A smart and knowing one, but a troll. My defense of his specific review of “District 9” still stands. Here is my original entry:

¶ An online friend sent me an e-mail: “I wonder if you’ve caught the firestorm of reader reactions to Armond White’s (negative) review of the film, which has sadly inspired a sort of virtual lynch mob among readers on Rotten Tomatoes. A few readers have tried to interject in defense of free speech and free criticism, but as you know, this is how it goes on the internet.” I went to the comment thread and found, at that time, 14 pages of comments excoriating White for his negative review of “District 9.” Bear in mind this was before most of those readers could have seen the film.

Some of them seemed pissed primarily because White had “spoiled” the movie’s perfect TomatoMeter reading (at that point it was his negative review versus 49 positives). Others focused on his customary contrarian position; Armond White can be counted on to vote against the majority on film after film. I’m not going to pretend I read all 14 pages, but I did a lot of jumping around and didn’t find a single comment defending the film itself.

The ten best documentaries of 2009

Roger Ebert

Some of the best documentaries of 2009 hardly seemed to exist. “What’s the matter with Kansas,” based on a best-seller, is still awaiting its fifth vote at IMDb. “The Beaches of Agnes,” a luminous film by the New Wave pioneer Agnes Varda, grossed $127,605. “Of Time and the City,” by a great British director, grossed $32,000. “Anvil! The Story of Anvil,” a hit in terms of buzz and critical reception, brought in $666,659. “Tyson,” $827, 046.

Such figures come from IMDb, which may be wrong, but if it’s $1 million off, we’re still not talking big numbers. What we’re really talking about is eyeballs, or, as old Jewish exhibitors used to ask, “how many toochis on the seats?” The audiences for these films were found first at film festivals, and will now be found on DVD and video on demand. None

Having a wonderful time, wish you could hear

Roger Ebert

It hardly ever happens this way. I get a DVD in the mail. I’m told it’s an animated film directed by “a girl from Urbana.” That’s my home town. It is titled “Sita Sings the Blues.” I know nothing about it, and the plot description on IMDb is not exactly a barn-burner: An animated version of the epic Indian tale of Ramayana set to the 1920’s jazz vocals of Annette Hanshaw. Uh, huh. I carefully file it with other movies I will watch when they introduce the 8-day week.

I get an e-mail from Betsy, my old pal who worked with me on The News-Gazette. “Did you see the film by the mayor’s daughter?” This intrigues me. The daughter is named Nina Paley. I do a Google run and discover that Hiram Paley was mayor from 1973-1977. I am relieved. This means the “girl” probably didn’t make the film as a high school class project. In fact, by my rapid mathematical calculations, she may have been conceived in City Hall. I used to cover City Hall. Worse things have happened there.

Wall Street’s dirty, rotten scoundrels

Roger Ebert

I am but a naive outsider. I don’t fully understand the working of the “derivatives” and “credit swaps” that we have heard so much about in recent months. I’m not alone. But I’m learning. I gather that these are ingenious computer-driven trading schemes in which good money can be earned from bad debt, and Wall Street’s Masters of the Universe pocket untold millions at the same time they bankrupt their investors and their own companies.

McLaren & Meyer & Rotten & Vicious & me

Roger Ebert

“I need you out here,” Russ Meyer told me on the phone in 1977. It was 6 a.m. He could not conceive that I might still be asleep. “Have you ever heard of the Sex Pistols?”

“No,” I said.

“They’re a rock band from England. They got a lot of publicity for saying ‘fuck’ on TV. Now they have some money and want me to direct their movie.”

Put up or shut up

Roger Ebert

We already know the numbers. Pew finds that 18% of Americans believe President Obama is a Muslim. A new Newsweek poll, taken after the controversy over the New York mosque, places that figure at 24%. Even if he’s not a Muslim, Newsweek finds, 31 percent think it’s “definitely or probably” true that Obama “sympathizes with the goals of Islamic fundamentalists who want to impose Islamic law around the world.”

When the focus is narrowed to Republicans, a Harris poll finds 57 percent of party members believe he is a Muslim, 22% believe he “wants the terrorists to win,” and 24% believe he is the Antichrist.

These figures sadden me with the depth of thoughtlessness and credulity they imply. A democracy depends on an informed electorate to survive. An alarming number of Americans and a majority of Republicans are misinformed. The man who was swept into office by a decisive majority is now considered by many citizens to be the enemy. Some fundamentalists believe he is the Antichrist named by Jesus in the Bible. [Yes, I know Jesus never mentioned the Antichrist, but there’s a video online proving that he did. He was punning in Hebrew — or was it Aramaic? — on the name Barack Obama. ]

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done

Roger Ebert

Those who opened their eyes when I did are closing them now. Word reached me on New Year’s Eve of two friends, one who has died, another who has returned home from hospital for palliative care. The first memories that come into my mind is of them laughing. I believe anyone who knew them would say the same thing. In my exploring years, when I was young and healthy and life was still ahead, they were stars in my sky, who had always been alive and would always be alive, because that is how we must act if we are to live at all.

The films of our lives

Roger Ebert

I saw a movie recently in which an 80ish women has an unlikely photograph on her wall. It shows Anita Ekberg in the famous scene where she wades in the Trevi Fountain in Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita.” She tells her elderly boyfriend: “I looked exactly like her when I was young.” Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t, but the photograph struck a chord. I saw Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” for the first time in London on the summer of 1962, in a little cinema on Piccadilly Square. I taught it a shot at a time at the University of Colorado at Boulder in 1972, and again in 1982, 1992 and 2002, give or take a year. I’ve seen it countless other times, but those ten-yearly screenings have helped me measure the inexorable progress of time.

A quintessence of dust

Roger Ebert

An idle comment caught my eye: “After all, no one saw the Big Bang.” Somewhere else I read, “The universe has no opinion.” Then I read that the next Hubble telescope will be able to peer six times as far into space and time as the one now in orbit.

An issue of Discover magazine arrived with a cover story about astronomers struggling with the problem of information overload. The new telescopes have moved far beyond visual images, and monitor a flood of information picked up on many wave lengths. Not even super computers can adequately organize and assess their vast findings. Amazing discoveries may be buried within the data.

The universe is too large for me to comprehend how large that really might be. I’ve seen those animations where Earth shrinks to a pin point, and then the sun shrinks to a pin point, and then the Milky Way shrinks to a pin point. The whole map might as well shrink to a pin point, along with the horse it rode on.