ROGER EBERT AND ME

Death, as it must to all men, came to Roger Ebert this week. The news was a shock not because it was unexpected, the 70 year old Ebert has had a long, well documented battle with cancer, but rather because it hit me just what a gap his passing left in the world of film criticism and for me personally.

For me, the world of film seemed to radiate from Ebert. He, along with Gene Siskel revolutionized film criticism with At the Movies, were the duo discussed the weeks films before giving them a Thumbs Up or Down. Not everyone approved of the idea, arguing that the simplistic Thumb system was a debasement of the art of criticism. But those detractors were missing the point. The discussions (frequently arguments) Siskel and Ebert had between the Thumbs were the shows real value, and provided the shading and nuance the Thumbs lacked on their own.

Ebert never liked rating films, especially as time went on, but he recognized their value to suck people in. Also, it turns out that beaming film discussions into millions of living rooms turns a lot of young people into film buffs. I've read a lot the touching obituaries of Ebert over the last few days, a lot of them from critics who literally grew up with Ebert in their homes. That's how it was for me. Ebert taught me that there was more to film than the blockbuster of the week. I was always kind of into film but it was the influence of Ebert on TV and in print that turned me into a cinephile. I can say without hyperbole that without him, I probably wouldn't be doing this blog. My relationship to film would likely be different. I would be different.

That's what film offers us, the chance to be transported and transformed by sharing in the stories of people and places far different from what we see everyday. Ebert understood this. In his thoroughly accessible print reviews, he reveled in the storytelling aspect of film. You knew that he really liked a film when he opened the review with a campfire like retelling of a particular scene. To this day, few things get be in the mood to write more than reading one of his 'Great Movie' essays.

I had the good fortune of meeting Ebert twice. These were not grand encounters, but I'll tell them anyway.

The first was in 2005. I was 16. My mother knew someone at ABC News who had invited us to some function of another. About halfway through the evening I realized Ebert was at the next table. I immediately started ignoring the Channel 7 anchor I was half talking to so I could eavesdrop as Ebert told stories about working with Russ Meyer (the legendary sexploitation filmmaker Ebert wrote scripts for in the early 70's). The whole time I was fantasizing about how I could insert myself into the conversation. But I was too scared to try. I thought of Wayne Campbell's refrain in Wayne's World: "I'm not worthy!" After summoning up a lot of nerve and waiting for an opening, I went up to him and told him that I was a huge fan. It was completely the wrong approach. Instead of saying something interesting, I'd just said the same stuff he'd been hearing from people on the street for the past thirty plus years, and for my efforts he brushed me off with a zing. Nothing mean spirited, just kind of playful.

He always seemed kind of playful. A serious critic when the time called for it, but I always saw Ebert as being a bit of an imp. He noted his love for the wit of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain and it showed in his reviews, particularly the negative ones, which were often uproariously funny and deserve to be read just as much as his positive ones. Everyone remembers his famous review of North, the Rob Reiner debacle which Ebert "hated, hated, hated," but check out his review of Milk Money which takes the form of a one-act play, about two studio executives plotting how to best exploit their unsuspecting audience. Nobody remembers that film, Ebert probably suspected that would be the case, but that didn't prevent him from penning an inventive review of it. To have one of his legendary zings directed at me was a great honor. His love of language and wit is something I've frequently tried, and failed, to replicate with my own reviews.

The second time I met Roger was in 2011. Another private function I had managed to con my way into. It was a wholly different encounter; there were no zings and I had no illusions about being able to engage him conversation this time. This was long after his rebirth as an internet pundit that started when he lost his jaw to cancer. The irony of his transformation wasn't lost on me, and I often took strength at just how well he adjusted and how openly he wrote about his condition. His wife, Chaz, was there helping him, talking for him when necessary. After the dinner, a line formed in front of Ebert and he began to sign things. I worked my way up to him and asked him to sign my program and told him, slightly more eloquently this time, how vital I found his work. I was so nervous throughout the encounter that it wasn't until later that I realized he had misspelled my name. I didn't care.

I met the man twice and only fleetingly. An outsider might say he slighted me both times, but they can't understand, they were two of the happiest memories of my life.

Thanks Roger, for the reviews, the columns, the books, the DVD commentaries, for helping me figure out who I am. Thanks for the movies.

(here's a music video for The Kelley Affair by the pop-punk band Be Your Own Pet. The song follows the plot of Beyond The Valley of the Dolls, the cult Russ Meyer film for which Ebert wrote the screenplay)