Mitchell and I were in college and had recently become best friends. We were 19, 20 years old. Theatre majors. For some reason, I can’t remember why, he slept over at my parents’ house, just like we were high school besties. A couple of things stick in my memory from that “sleepover”. My two younger sisters were in high school and grade school, and were sleeping in their room across the hallway from mine. Mitchell and I began laughing so loud and so hard at one point (it is still mythical to us, that laughing fit) that my mother had to call up the stairs to us to quiet down. We were keeping the kids awake. So lame. So hilarious. But the other thing I remember is that sitting beside my dad’s chair was a book of Roger Ebert’s reviews. It had been there for years. I had read it cover to cover. I hadn’t even seen half of the movies, but it didn’t matter. I loved his observations, I looked forward to the day I could see some of these things, and I enjoyed his writing. So Mitchell grabbed it.
He flipped through it, in my upstairs room, both of us lying in bed, and he read out loud from the reviews. We would stop and talk about things. We did this for a couple of hours. It was an early version of these types of conversations, something Mitchell and I still do, for hours on end.
I know we read many reviews, but the one that sticks out was Ebert’s review of Woody Allen’s Another Woman, a movie Mitchell and I both loved. We also were both huge John Cassavetes fans. (Incidentally, it is because of Roger Ebert’s reviews of Cassavetes films that I sought them out, in junior high/high school. Life-changer.) I remember Mitchell reading the following passage about Gena Rowlands’ performance:
There is a temptation to say that Rowlands has never been better than in this movie, but that would not be true. She is an extraordinary actor who is usually this good, and has been this good before, especially in some of the films of her husband, John Cassavetes. What is new here is the whole emotional tone of her character. Great actors and great directors sometimes find a common emotional ground, so that the actor becomes an instrument playing the director’s song.
Cassavetes is a wild, passionate spirit, emotionally disorganized, insecure and tumultuous, and Rowlands has reflected that personality in her characters for him – white-eyed women on the edge of stampede or breakdown.
Allen is introspective, considerate, apologetic, formidably intelligent, and controls people through thought and words rather than through physicality and temper. Rowlands now mirrors that personality, revealing in the process how the Cassavetes performances were indeed “acting” and not some kind of ersatz documentary reality. To see “Another Woman” is to get an insight into how good an actress Rowlands has been all along.
Mitchell stopped reading, and said, “You know, that is so true. If you think about her in Gloria, holding the gun and saying, ‘C’MON. C’MON.’ Or in Woman Under the Influence, with her weird quirks and madness … it’s all totally real what she was doing in Cassavetes’ movies, but then you see her in Another Woman, and you would swear she was born to play that kind of quiet repressed sad woman.”
The couple of paragraphs on Rowlands’ acting and career in the Another Woman review is one of the main reasons I fell in love with Roger Ebert’s writing. While his commentary on directors and the moviemaking nuts-and-bolts were always astute and thought-provoking, he is one of the few critics who really understands acting, and gives it its due. That is a brilliant and insightful analysis of Rowlands’ chameleon quality, her total sponge-like response to whatever director she is working with, and it is details like that that other critics often miss. I’m an acting-nerd. I was interested in movies because of actors, that was my “way in”. And to read someone’s elegant and passionate and knowledgeable analysis of the mysterious art of acting was a huge turn-on.
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My journey is similar to many of those out there who also discovered his writing early. There were the books. And there was the TV show. I would watch Siskel and Ebert every week with my parents. It was a fun family ritual. I got nervous when they disagreed. Sometimes it got heated. But I loved listening to both of them talk.
When the movie/acting bug was born in me, for various reasons, there were Roger Ebert’s books. As I said, my parents owned one of them. Through that book I discovered a series of mysterious names that I knew I would have to investigate. Fellini. Cassavetes. Werner Herzog, who the heck was THAT? I needed to know. I read every word. I was in grade school.
As I moved on from my parents’ house, I missed the Roger Ebert book, so I started buying copies for myself. Those copies have traveled with me over the years. Even now, when all of his reviews are online, I still like to flip through the books. They have followed me from Boston to Philadelphia to Los Angeles to Chicago to New York. I have my favorite reviews. I am sure you do too.
While the movies themselves are always the “stars” of the reviews, what is striking about Ebert is the quality of the writing. It’s just plain good writing. Some of his reviews are actually literature. His review of Stormy Monday is famous, for obvious reasons. (Please go check out Kim Morgan’s emotional tribute, which also references that review.) Reading that review as a young girl, not having even seen the movie, I knew that what I was reading was something fresh, something new. Reading a review like that young is a warning to a burgeoning movie-lover: “You must be able to see at this level. Can you?” It’s a reminder of how deep you must go. How deep you are required to go. Anyone can watch a movie. But can you see it? That Stormy Monday review is BOLD. Bold fearless writing. And evocative of so much emotion, a tone-poem, the words spilling over themselves, launching images in your mind. Even if you haven’t seen the film.
Roger Ebert always said that he didn’t feel it was his job to tell you whether or not YOU would like the movie. It was his job to tell you what HE thought of the movie. That has been hugely influential for me in my own writing, not just about film, but about everything. Some writers will never understand that, because their outlook is stingy and competitive. They are always comparing themselves to others, whatever success they achieve is never enough for them, they are writing to impress, to dominate, a million other reasons. But writing that actually shares who you are is not Amateur Hour. You have to really do it. You can’t fake it. You will be revealed as a faker if you try. I can smell phoniness like that from a writer. But a writer who reveals something about themselves, even if they are writing a book review, a music review, a movie review … it takes that ineffable thing, talent, but it also takes a willingness to be exposed. You must put yourself out there like that. I mean, put your SELF out there. Roger Ebert did.
While I know much more about him now because of his blog-posts and his memoir, I feel like I already knew him, or everything I needed to know, from things like his Stormy Monday review. I could tell what kind of a PERSON he was. You have to know what you are doing to write like that. Roger Ebert was one of the many influential writers out there who pointed the way for me, who shone as an example.
And, as I mentioned, he helped me learn how to see.
I don’t think I can even measure or express how huge a contribution that has been to my life.
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Back in the early 2000s, my old friend Michael Gilio directed/wrote/starred in a movie called Kwik Stop. I wrote about it here and elsewhere. Michael and I go way back, and so to see him achieve what he had been only dreaming about back when I knew him in the mid-90s was thrilling (not even the right word: all of us who love Michael were like, “YAYYYY!” basically.) Kwik Stop did a successful festival circuit, winning some awards. But no distribution deal. Roger Ebert loved the film. Read his review of Kwik Stop here. Ebert ended the review powerfully:
The movie contains genuine surprises, some delightful (like the plan to spring Didi from the home) and others involving loneliness, loss and desperation. I cannot say much more without revealing developments that are unexpected and yet deeply satisfying. Poignancy comes into the movie from an unexpected source. Depths are revealed where we did not think to find them. The ending is like the last paragraph of a short story, redefining everything that went before.
“Kwik Stop,” made on a low budget, has all the money it needs to accomplish everything it wants to do. It has the freedom of serious fiction, which is not chained to a story arc but follows its characters where they insist on going. Gilio, Phillips, Komenich and Anglin create that kind of bemused realism we discover in films that are not about plot but about what these dreamy people are going to do next. On a weekend when $400 million in slick mainstream productions are opening, this is the movie to seek out.
Ebert knows what he is doing. He knows what a review like that can mean to a struggling young indie. He chose Kwik Stop to be part of his Overlooked Film Festival of 2002. The film played at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago, with Ebert himself moderating. He interviewed Michael, onstage.
Martin Scorsese released a statement after the news broke, part of which read:
Roger was always supportive, he was always right there for me when I needed it most, when it really counted – at the very beginning, when every word of encouragement was precious; and then again, when I was at the lowest ebb of my career, there he was, just as encouraging, just as warmly supportive.
You can see how meaningful support like that is, from someone who wields so much power, through his TV show as well as his syndicated column. Ebert was a fan. You always could feel that. He was a fan of Scorsese, he was a fan of Herzog. He would watch whatever they did, and even if he didn’t find it completely successful, he would not be dismissive of their lesser attempts. Obviously, he could be downright contemptuous if you made a piece of shit movie that wasted his time and insulted his intelligence. But if you had already proven yourself, if you already got his attention, he would stick with you. He would follow you. (None of this ridiculous stuff I see from some critics: “So and so should just listen to me, and take my suggestions, because I know what’s best for so and so.” Dude, you’re a guy at a keyboard. Nobody asked you, nobody cares. Ebert did not pull that kind of stuff.) If he was disappointed in something, he would say so. But he would not dismiss, and that kind of “encouragement” is meaningful to a giant like Martin Scorsese, and a young new filmmaker like Michael Gilio. It’s not just meaningful. It is everything.
Someone out there is watching. Someone is paying attention carefully. Someone is taking me seriously, even though I am not as successful as I was 5, 10 years ago. It can keep you going. It can, to quote Lorna Moon in Golden Boy, “stiffen the space between [your] shoulder blades.”
So even without the books, the TV show, and everything else, those of us who love Michael will always love Roger Ebert for his championing of Kwik Stop. I still tear up when I think about it.
You love my friends? You support my friends? You have my heart forever.
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I will always associate the chaos of the last two months now with Roger Ebert. I have been dealing with some pretty heavy stuff. It started last year, but it has bled into this year, with a brief respite when I went to Memphis. I should have just stayed in Memphis! In the middle of a terrible week, like off-the-HOOK terrible, involving two doctor’s appointments in one week, and lots of outright fear, a couple of things happened on the same day. I had gotten off Facebook because I could not deal with it anymore. I deactivated my account. It helped. Then, one morning, during that off-the-hook week of Suck, I noticed that my blog was slow in its load-time. I wondered why. I checked my Sitemeter. It was apparent that I was being overrun by traffic from what appeared to be a link on Facebook. I am fine with my normal traffic, but there have been a couple of times when big-wigs have linked to me – The Wall Street Journal, Instapundit – and my traffic on this day in February looked like THAT. Enormous spike. It was all going to this piece on Ben Gazzara, who had died in 2012. It wasn’t a timely piece, I had written it when Gazzara died, although the Day of the Facebook Link That Slowed My Site Down in the Middle of the Week Of Suck was the one-year anniversary of Gazzara’s death. I was curious about who the hell was linking to it, but I was no longer on Facebook so I couldn’t check.
5 minutes later, I got an email from my good pal Steven Boone. He said, “Great Gazzara link! Hey, Roger Ebert is looking for you. Can I pass on your information?”
Well, I never thought I would hear the words “Roger Ebert is looking for you.” I didn’t put it together that it was Ebert who had linked to my Gazzara piece, on both Facebook and Twitter. I’m slow like that. Besides, Roger Ebert is looking for me?? Am I in trouble? I emailed Steven back, “Of course, give him my email.” I decided I needed to get back on Facebook to see what was going on.
At the same time, traffic started pouring in from a Twitter link as well, Roger Ebert, with the words: “The only appreciation of Ben Gazarra you’ll need to read. By Sheila O’Malley.”
Light dawned in the cave. Ebert, for whatever reason, had been checking out my site, found the piece on Gazzara, somehow, maybe because he knew it was the anniversary of Gazzara’s death, he was wondering if I had had something to say about it? For whatever reason, Ebert found that piece, and linked to it with the strongest possible words of recommendation on both Facebook and Twitter. For a brief hour or so that morning, my site crashed, because of those links.
I have friends who know him well, who work for him, who write for him. My pal Kim Morgan sat in for him on his TV show with Richard Roeper in 2007. I follow him on Facebook and Twitter, read his blog-posts, read his reviews. But this was the first time he linked to me. I didn’t even know he knew who I was. It was very surreal, since everything surrounding that one day, the rest of my life, was all pretty upsetting, to say the least. I said to cousin Kerry, “The TIMING of this …” She said, “I know!”
Half an hour later, I received an email from Roger Ebert. He cut to the chase. “I would like you to write reviews for me,” was his opening salvo. He broke it all down for me, his plans for his new website, his desire to give new voices a platform. He described it all here in his last blog-post, called “A Leave of Presence”, where he also announced that his cancer had returned. He told me in that first email that I had been recommended to him by a couple of people, and that he loved the Gazzara piece very much. “I would love to discuss you writing for me.”
Naturally, I emailed him back saying, “I am honored to be asked, and of course I would love to write for you.”
He emailed me back, opening with, “This makes me happy.”
His emails were blunt, to the point, and emotional. It took me about a day to get over my shyness in emailing him. He was so open. I would inform him, “Okay, I can get to this-and-this-and-this screening, and get you the reviews by this date, does that sound cool?” He’d fire back an email within hours, but sometimes minutes: “3X Yes!!!” Lots of exclamation points, showing his warmth and generosity.
The thought that all of this was going on while he was on his virtual death-bed is incredibly moving to me, and, again, speaks to his energy, his drive, his work ethic, and his undying enthusiasm. He was pumped at the new direction his site was going. He was pumped about the writers he had working for him. He loved what I was doing. He supported me and encouraged me. Every email I got from him was inclusive and excited. That’s my main impression. He was excited. Having someone excited by what I was doing was one of the most relaxing possible situations for me at that particular moment in time, and is far more important than I can even understand right now. I am still in the crisis, that hasn’t changed. It’s still there. To have this other situation with Roger Ebert flowing alongside the health crisis, the crisis that was frightening and overwhelming, was something I will never forget. He will never know how much it meant to me. I mean, it would have meant a lot to me in normal times as well, but in February 2013? Priceless. It always would have been awesome, but this winter it felt like a miracle. It really did.
We emailed back and forth about EbertFest. He encouraged me to attend. He forwarded invites to screenings to me, seeing if I could make this or that one.
My first review for him was the German thriller Barbara, which had already been released, but Ebert had obviously missed it and wanted it covered on his site. He said he could send me a screener, if I was interested. I said I was very interested, I loved Christian Petzold’s films, and had been sad I had missed it on its brief run in New York in 2012. The screener arrived, and I watched the film. It was around this same time that things started to go off the rails for me in that other situation (I am telling you: both things were happening at the same time). My mother came down to stay with me, to support me as I went to my doctor’s appointments, and help me manage what I needed to manage. It was such an important and special time. My mother is amazing.
I could not “check out” entirely because I had to write the reviews for Ebert. I had to get my shit together. Not a problem. I have never had a problem with writing, even in the worst of times. But for my first review, I had some stage fright. I had to really gather my forces together, which had been so scattered in the months of November, December, January. One early morning, 5 or 6 a.m., I got my notes, sat on the floor with my laptop, and wrote the review of Barbara. Mum was asleep in the other room. I was done with it by the time she woke up. The sun had risen. I read her the review. I said something to my mother like, “I like to start off with something descriptive, usually.” I had to go to work. I sent the review off to Roger, and then jumped in the shower. He had responded by the time I got out. Less than 5 minutes.
He wrote, “What good writing!” Words I will cherish always.
He then observed, “I like drawing us in with descriptions rather than generalizations.”
Mum and I laughed later, how he had completely clocked the very statement I had said to her earlier.
Listen, life can be a cold and lonely thing. The world can be isolating. You can feel all alone sometimes.
Words of not only support – but recognition – can be life-changers. Life boats. Healing vessels. Seriously.
My writing career has been going great. 2012 was the year it cracked. This far pre-dated Ebert, but Ebert reaching out to me seemed yet another element of confirmation. One of those random windfalls that occur when you’re already in the hustling game.
I am going to EbertFest. I had looked forward to meeting him. Knowing now how ill he must have been when he was writing me those emails with exclamation points and warm words like, “This makes me happy” is not just moving. It’s life-affirming. He is an example. I want to be like that when I grow up.
Not just the writing part. The human part.
See, even when I was a child, 9, 10 years old, reading his review of Fitzcarraldo or whatever, and thinking, “Holy mackerel, I have no idea what any of this is about, but I must know” I felt that I wanted to be like him. I wanted to know the things he knew. I wanted to see the way he did.
I would have been a movie fan anyway, I will always want to “talk about the movie”, but Ebert was a torch-bearer. I still go back and read my favorites of his reviews.
And on blue days, I pop in Casablanca to listen to his commentary track, one of the best examples of its kind. I like to sit there, and listen to him talk. It’s both soothing and invigorating.
He falls into silence during the “dueling anthems” scene. How many times has Ebert seen Casablanca? Countless times. But that scene still gets him. That scene still gives him goosebumps. He is almost speechless in the face of its primal power.
He is not “over” it.
Read his writing.
He wasn’t “over” anything.
It is that quality I think I will miss the most.
Thanks Roger. For everything.
So glad you shared this. If you come to Ebert’s Overlooked Film Festival in Champaign, I hope you enjoy it. (I’ve lived in C-U 24 years.) Yes, yes, yes, see all the movies; it’s all good! But, take some breathing space and try to squeeze time for refreshment. I recommend a burger and fresh-fried chips at Farren’s and a brew at Distihl or the Blind Pig. All are just a block or two from the festival venues. This is a totally selfish comment, I know. But reading your writing has been such a pleasure and eye-opener to me, I just want to retur the favor in a small way by pointing you toward some good things while you’re in “my” neighborhood.
Not selfish at all, Kathleen – I totally appreciate the recommendations and really look forward to seeing Champagne-Urbana! Thank you!!
Will you be attending? If you are, find me and say Hello. :)
I’ll be out of town at a conference for most or all of it. I’m looking into the will call, last-minute ticket options for later in the festival. I will look you up if I’m in town. Enjoy your trip!
Dear Sheila, how lovely it is to read this! I am so sorry for what you have been going through and I am glad that this recognition from a great and wonderful man was there at a difficult time for you. I love that your love of writing & films circled around like this, back to Ebert again and again. I will miss his writing too – I didn’t come to his work early so I have so much left to catch up on, for which I am grateful. But I am also sad that I will never again get to read his thoughts on a new film or his new reactions to an old favourite. I will miss how much he LOVED films – so many critics only criticise and appreciate very little. He saw what good was there to be seen. It is obvious from what you have written about your experience with him that he was that way with people and with life as well. RIP Roger Ebert.
You are so right, Eris, about his appreciation. He was never distant. Even when he hated, he was fully involved. A real example.
And thanks. It is just too amazing that in what would be the last 2 months of his life, our paths would cross. It’s too much. A friend of mine was coming up with jokey book titles for my eventual book, and the titles involved both the name of my Health Crisis and Roger Ebert. Both. They were pretty funny and helped highlight the wonderful absurdity of the situation.
I am going to miss him so much!!
Thank goodness we have so much writing from him.
I’m still reeling. I could hardly sleep last night from thinking about what we’ve lost. I think the first two figures I ever really loved on TV were Mister Rogers and, well, Roger. He was such a warm presence, so often sliding in behind Gene’s pan with a boyish smile and a response that could make, “Gee, I kinda liked it” into a fully grounded, passionately argued counter. Of course, that also made his most scabrous pans that much more meaningful (and, often, funny). He wasn’t someone going in with quips loaded, but if a film lost him they seemed to instantly fill the void in his mind.
So many of the names you mention finding because of Ebert are the same ones I came to for the same reason: Herzog, Cassavetes, Fellini. There was also Steve James, Kieslowski, late Welles like Chimes at Midnight. And Mitchum! How perfect was it that Mitchum was his favorite actor? An actor who was so concise and yet so there in his acting, never faking, never putting anything out that was not honest and revealing. I can only hope (and really, assume) that people will keep finding those filmmakers and movies for generations because of his advocacy, and his ability to both completely capture what he loved while leaving so much compellingly left for you the reader/watcher to discover.
Even his promotion of other writers was and is so important to me as I keep trying to find my voice. When he put Ignatiy Vishnevetsky on TV, it was SEISMIC for me. At the Movies was struggling not to be taken away in favor of yet more sickening gossip shows (God, how truthful are Herzog’s words on Ebert’s passing?), and Ebert had the faith to put someone on camera who would go to the mat for late Godard and the like not to posture but to show the same passion and intellectual curiosity that Ebert brought so regularly when he was the one in the balcony. And when your first piece went up for his site, I was so thrilled. You write here about Ebert’s influence on you, and this piece, and so many others, bear out why it was almost obvious he should take a shine to your writing. Even so, I felt such a weird pride that he wanted to share your talent, and if he could read this like some digital-age Tom Sawyer spying on his own funeral, I’m sure he’d be quick to pass this one around too.
Amazing tribute, as ever.
Jake – so much to think about in your comment. Thank you for the support, and your excitement for my own opportunity that came out of all of this. It’s very generous and I appreciate it so much.
Still reeling, too.
What a legend.
//He emailed me back, opening with, “This makes me happy.” //
This made me choke up.
For a kid growing up in a sleepy bedroom community pre-internet, his books (I think the 1986 Home Movie Companion was my first) were passports to a movie culture that otherwise would have remained somewhere off beyond the horizon. He introduced me to films, such as Breaker Morant and The Wild Bunch, that remain personal ‘top-ten’ favorites today.
Even more importantly I think, Robert Ebert was the first person to show me that it was possible to think deeply and carefully, without pretension, about movies – and by extension, art in general. That there were more depth to being a fan than that of simple boosterism but being fan was fun. Enthusiasm was fun. I am grateful for this gift.
In an age of ideologues he was able to write fondly about artists with differing politics from his, like Wayne and Eastwood. In an age of deliberate ignorance and dumbing down his writing remained fiercely intelligent.
By all accounts he was an extraordinarily decent person. His gift to you staggers me with its generosity. I can’t express how happy it makes me to learn that in this one instance, a hero of mine did not have feet of clay.
Wonderful, Dan!! I love the specificity of your remembrance – and I agree: he did not have that genre condescension, which really really hinders critical analysis.
and yes, no feet of clay. My brief relationship with him showed his warmth – the writing was indicative of who he was.
This was sad news. I have at least a couple of his books–one I’ve had for a LONG time. If you love movies, you love reading someone else who loves movies as you do–particularly someone who writes about them so beautifully. It dawns on me that I see his influence in your writing, whether purposeful or not. It’s impossible to ‘replace’ someone like him, but I’m sure he was very happy to help and encourage those walking in his footsteps.
He was known for his generosity towards bloggers/non-professional film critics – and others. If you had a point of view he liked, writing he liked, he wanted to bring you in to his circle. I cannot even express how much that is NOT the case with other print-legends similar to Ebert, who treat the whole Internet as some suspicious enterprise and “who are these people who think their opinions matter?”
Yes, not all opinions are equal or valid. I am very picky and choosy in who I read.
But Ebert was the guy who held out a hand to others. “Come with me …”
Quite amazing.
Sheila, this is lovely – and I’m very glad that your path crossed with Roger Ebert when you needed it. Over at the AV Club someone said in the comments that very few people have given out as much love as Ebert – and that seems to sum him up perfectly for me. He showed us that enthusiasm is always more interesting and valuable than apathy – he did the same job for nearly 50 years and never became jaded by it. He was always engaged, there was nothing ironic or distant about his writing or his personality. I’ve always gotten the same feeling from this space, which is why I like it so much.
Thank you Desirae!! Yes – he was not ironic or distant or pompous. He could be firm as hell, especially in his comments section at his site when someone would get uppity or offended or silly. But his overall stance was one of openness and transparency.
Beautiful. Thank you for this, Sheila. I grew up just south of Chicago, and Roger is such a part of my childhood. I wish I could express myself as well as you do, but I felt such sadness at his passing. I sobbed yesterday, thinking about what a wonderful man he was, and what we had all lost.
Maureen – I know. It’s really too much to comprehend – it’s going to take some time to realize that he is gone. :(
Look what you’ve done.
Bawling.
xo
Beyond moving. Thank you
Thank you, Carrie.
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My first thought on hearing that Ebert had died was of you—that you had recently begun writing for him. On THAT occasion, when you mentioned you would be doing so, I remember thinking how appropriate it was that someone I like so well had discovered someone else I like so well. As for what you will be when you grow up: the charming, amazing, beautiful, eloquent person you are now is already someone I am sure I am not the only one to admire and hope somehow to emulate. Thank you!
Kate
Thank you so much, Kate!!
I agree with Roger — What good writing!
//He emailed me back, opening with, “This makes me happy.” //
(This was the line where tears started streaming down my face.)
You were the first person I thought of when I heard the news. I’m so glad that the two of you connected before he left us.
Me too!!
I’ve been a Roger Ebert fan since the early days of the Siskel & Ebert show. Ebert was immediately my favorite of the two; his enthusiasm and generosity about movies translated well to television. Then I discovered his writing, which was even better because he wasn’t constrained by time, or having to let Siskel talk an equal amount of time. I show his reviews to my writing students here in Korea as examples of how to construct a review. When my son was in high school, he found one of Ebert’s books and not only read it, but pored over it, practically internalized it. Some of our nicest times have included watching Casablanca and listening to Ebert’s commentary. I am so glad that Roger Ebert reached out to you so spectacularly and so warmly. The passing of a torch sounds cliche, but really, that’s what it feels like.
I love that you show his reviews to your students, bybee! Perfect!
and also that you all love that Casablanca commentary too. It really is top-notch! I never get sick of it.
This piece makes me happy, Sheila — though not the part about you having health issues or, of course, Roger being gone.
He was never shy about giving plugs to pieces or things he like. Hey, he even linked to one of my pieces once. (He asked a question in a review that an interview I had done — an odd one — kind of answered and he responded to my self-pimping with the link.)
I could on but he was obviously just the best, on so many levels.
Hope you’re feeling better soon, btw!
Bob – yes, he was really paying attention to the voices around him, which had to be overwhelming at times. How many times did people RT him?? But when something of value was out there – like your interview – he could recognize it. A great critical mind.
RIP, Roger!!!! No more pain.
Very true, though in my case it was via e-mail. (I had been in the Movie Answer Man a few times…though he never did take my, I think, outstanding suggestion for the little movie glossary…Hey, nobody’s perfect.)
Didn’t think I could feel worse, but hearing about your health scare made this day worse. Am so sorry for what you are going through, hope it concludes well and soon. Thanks for the truly great words about Roger. Wonderful, wonderful man. So glad you two connected. Somehow THAT makes a lot of sense to me. Take care. Melissa
Such a wonderful man – thank you for your words, Melissa!
I now love Roger Ebert the way I love Mitchell’s teacher, the one who read him Stuart Little.
xo
xoxo see you soon, friend!!
My brother laughed at this line: “Roger Ebert is looking for me?? Am I in trouble?” He then began to joke about a pissed-off Roger Ebert trying to track me down. “Did you SEE what she wrote about THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR? I am going to TAKE. HER. DOWN.”
We need to laugh in times of trouble. Or at least we Irish do.
I love how you have appreciated the appreciator in this eulogy. Beautiful.
“The appreciator” – a perfect term for Roger Ebert.
Thanks, Ted!!
Of course he loved your writing, dear: you write with utter sincerity and an open heart. Just like him.
Beautiful tribute.
Thank you Jason!!!
I was so upset when I learned Mr Ebert had died. Having just read his last piece, I was shocked that the end came so quickly. I’ve followed him since the first shows on PBS. Loved them both. The always recognition of what film could mean to people. Memories of people, places, good and bad times. Love lost and found. No snobbery towards non professional fans like me. That was very generous considering how much they actually knew about film. The highest praise I can give, is that if Roger Ebert liked a film, I would want to see it. Checking his website whenever I saw something new. What did Roger think? I don’t know if I would have starting seeking out foreign film, if not for his books and reviews. Many thanks, Mr Ebert. P S sending some love your way Ms Sheila. Hope you’re ok.
My dad didn’t like movie reviews (or book reviews, for that matter). He didn’t want anybody else to get in between him and the piece of work. But he loved Roger Ebert. Obviously, he bought his books.
Even if you disagreed, the reviews were so elegantly written and argued, it was a pleasure having a conversation in your mind with him about it.
This makes me cry. Yes, the timing is unbelievable. .. wow.
It really is just too much. Best not to think about the timing too much. Although sometimes you just can’t help it.
Love you, Jackie.
Sheila,
Two words: Bubba Ho-tep
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20031017/REVIEWS/310170301/1023
Sheila,
One of my first thoughts on hearing the news about Roger Ebert was about you – how awesome that you had started writing pieces for his site – because though I don’t love movies the same way you (and he) did, I love reading pieces written from a viewpoint of knowledge and passion, which describes both your and his writings.
(Also, I’m glad you called your issues a health scare, not a health issue – I hope all is well!).
Thank you, Melissa!
Beautiful tribite. I’ve been trying for a few days to think of what to write to do my feelings for this man justice, and realize I can’t. But as I recently told you Sheila, he IS the reason I love movies, I used to devour those movie yearbooks; they were so fun to read. He opened up a world to me that before was just a mystery. And the generosity of spirit! He was NEVER condescending, even when he could have and probably should have been. I remember nervously writing my first question to the movie answer man, and the absolute thrill I had when it got published on his site. (see below) “Roger Ebert took the time to respond to ME, wow!” But he was like that with everyone. He had an amazing desire to educate and share, and was patient with his readers.
I wrote my screenplay, and the number one motivation for me in doing so was that if it ever got made, Roger might review it. I fantasized about email exchanges where we debate my script. I was seriously more interested in his opinion then anything else.
I get the feeling from reading remarks by world class directors (Herzog, Scorcese), that they feel about Ebert pretty much the same way we all feel. I firmly belive these greats and others were in some small part motovated to please Roger, which could only have improved their work.
I sense a tremendous void now, one that will never be filled.
But I am grateful for all he has given us, and am happy you got to connect with him, even for such a brief time. And I wish you well as always Sheila.
Q. In the last Answer Man, you discussed Amanda Peet’s chances of an Academy nomination for her small role in “Changing Lanes” by referring to Beatrice Straight’s win for “Network.” However, you neglected to mention Dame Judi Dench’s win for Supporting Actress for “Shakespeare In Love,” during which she was on screen for all of 7 or 8 minutes. At the time, this was considered the shortest amount of screen time for any Oscar winner. I’ll have to rewatch “Network,” but I think Dench wins. (Todd Restler, Ardsley NY)
A. Who had the shortest Oscar-wining performance? The AM turned to Tim Dirks, proprietor of the Greatest Films website (www.filmsite.org), which has comprehensive info on hundreds of great American movies. His reply:
“Beatrice Straight as Louise Schumacher in ‘Network’ (1976) appears
in three scenes that equal about 7 1/2 minutes of total screen
time, with eight speeches totaling 260 words. Judi Dench as Queen
Elizabeth in ‘Shakespeare in Love’ (1998) appears in four scenes
that equal about 10 minutes of total screen time, with 14 speeches
totalling 446 words. Verdict: The Best Supporting Actress
Oscar-winner with less screen time AND less dialogue is Beatrice
Straight in ‘Network’.
Roger (all of his fans are on a first name basis) was THE reason I became a cinephile. The TV show was fun, but his annual video home companion books showcased his prodigious and elegant writing talent. I still have the 1987 version, which is probably one of the first film books of any kind that I bought – I was 16 years old. I also love “Two Weeks in the Midday Sun” – his journal of the Cannes film festival. Roger’s passing has shaken me and left me with a tremendous sense of loss. This deeply emotional state is compelling me to tell you, Sheila, how much I really appreciate YOUR writing. I’ve been coming to this site for a few years and it is a genuine justification for the invention of the internet. I particularly like your personal stories, “Keith McAuliffe”, “The Spitball Valentine”, “Hero In Stilettoes”, “An Ode to E.B. White and a Very Special Teacher” are so good that reading them felt transcendent. I kept meaning to comment on one of your essays to show my appreciation, but, well… I guess I’m just lazy. The loss of Roger is another reminder at how fragile life really is. Sheila, your writing is meaningful to people. Roger said so, and I say so.
Chris – your comment has brought more tears, but of the good and grateful kind. Many many thanks for saying what you said. It really does mean so much. Especially in this sad time of loss!
I made special mention of your ‘personal’ essays, but I was remiss in not also lauding your writings on film, which are just as grand. Your breakdown of Burt Young’s emotional scene in “Rocky” is probably the piece that made me bookmark your website, and any fan of Tom Noonan’s forgotten masterpiece, “What Happened Was…,” is A-Okay in my book. I hope that you get invited to participate in one of the panel discussions at Ebertfest. I’m sure you’d be a dynamite contributor, and I’d love to be able to say hello you.
As with your Ben Gazarra post, this is the only appreciation of Roger Ebert you’ll need to read.
The others you may want to read, or like to read, but for an understanding of what a wonderful person Ebert was, his many fans need to read this.
Because it will make them happy.
Thank you so much, devtob. Very emotional!!
Ebert was a very fine writer. He also recognized fine writing by others. I am so glad that he reached out to you professionally before he left us. It is one of his final grace notes in a very gracious life. Best wishes always to you, Sheila… to your beautiful writing and to health and happiness.
Kent – I feel so privileged, flattered … kind of gobsmacked by the timing of the whole thing. Amazing – and all of a piece with the generosity with which he lived his life. I wish I had met him in person but like I said – I honestly feel like he was so know-able through his writing. I need to spend some good time going through his reviews, and it is a comfort to know that they are just a click away.
xoxo
talk soon!!
and yes, what a writer he was! A great rhetorical writer, a great argumentative writer. And a great appreciator (to steal my friend Ted’s phrase).
I’m late to this beautiful article.
Which is apt, because I was late for its subject.
Of course I enjoyed Siskel and Ebert’s show, of course I enjoyed Ebert’s reviews. And I’d heard that he had a popular blog, but I’d never checked it out.
I didn’t even know he’d been sick.
And now— the more I read, the more I’m knocked off my feet by this man– his passion for his work, his warmth and love for his colleagues and his family, the gorgeous words he wrote and wrote and wrote when his voice was taken.
I missed him. Damn it.
But, I didn’t. Because look how I’m getting to know him now. From people who love him, and admire him (like you, red), and from his writing. Ohhhh it’s moments like this that I rejoice in a voice that lives beyond the grave.
Thank you for writing.
Sheila. You and Roger Ebert are the only people I follow on Twitter. I’ve read his blog since the beginning and some years ago I told him about you – one of many people to do so I’m sure. I always thought you belonged together. He and I went to Shakespeare on the same night and I spoke to and laughed with him once. A highlight! I am really saddened by his death and will miss him. Thank you for the remembrance.