Ebert's Last Words
It has taken me a long time to come to appreciate Roger Ebert. My first exposure to him was in the '80s when I saw some of the Siskel and Ebert TV shows. It seemed a shallow thing, perfectly attuned to American viewing habits, with a few bickering soundbites and an up-down verdict from the reviewers. Even Barry Norman, fecker though he is, had the space on the BBC to expound upon his subjects and unleash a little of his rubber wit.
This was, of course, pre-internet and I hadn't read any of Ebert in print. I'd seen one of the movie guides he'd written, but like the TV show these were postage-stamp reviews with too little to say. However, in recent years I have begun to read him more regularly and I find myself more interested in his opinion.
Now, he's no Pauline Kael. But who could be! She was a professional gadfly, who would champion trash for no other reason than to be contrarian, but who could change your perceptions of a movie with her left-field slant. Ebert is more of a straight arrow, but none the worse for that. He's articulate and gentle with the wry humour of a favourite uncle.
There are gaps in the last decade of reviews. Gaps while he's been in surgery or recovery for cancer. But more recently he has written ferociously, both in his newspaper and his blog. Just the other week he penned a glorious paean to Jermyn Street and a piece of London that no longer exists--or will soon cease to exist.
However, Esquire this month published an interview with him that talks about his illness and his peaceful coming to terms with his twilight years. It's a wonderful story. This is how humanists should go, with grace, into the night. You would be forgiven for shedding a tear.
Though of course Ebert is far from popping his clogs. Here he reminds us he is not dead yet while generally agreeing with the Esquire piece.
And it links rather beautifully to an interview Ebert himself wrote for Esquire about an increasingly dissolute Lee Marvin. You really should not miss it.
This was, of course, pre-internet and I hadn't read any of Ebert in print. I'd seen one of the movie guides he'd written, but like the TV show these were postage-stamp reviews with too little to say. However, in recent years I have begun to read him more regularly and I find myself more interested in his opinion.
Now, he's no Pauline Kael. But who could be! She was a professional gadfly, who would champion trash for no other reason than to be contrarian, but who could change your perceptions of a movie with her left-field slant. Ebert is more of a straight arrow, but none the worse for that. He's articulate and gentle with the wry humour of a favourite uncle.
There are gaps in the last decade of reviews. Gaps while he's been in surgery or recovery for cancer. But more recently he has written ferociously, both in his newspaper and his blog. Just the other week he penned a glorious paean to Jermyn Street and a piece of London that no longer exists--or will soon cease to exist.
However, Esquire this month published an interview with him that talks about his illness and his peaceful coming to terms with his twilight years. It's a wonderful story. This is how humanists should go, with grace, into the night. You would be forgiven for shedding a tear.
Though of course Ebert is far from popping his clogs. Here he reminds us he is not dead yet while generally agreeing with the Esquire piece.
And it links rather beautifully to an interview Ebert himself wrote for Esquire about an increasingly dissolute Lee Marvin. You really should not miss it.