Life Itself

I grew up with Roger Ebert's movie reviews. I first read one of his pieces in high school and have been hooked ever since. I would usually consult him before deciding to watch a particular movie, especially if the IMDb rating was not very high: his judgment would be the tie break that would convince me – or not – to invest those 2-3 hours in a movie. Afterwards, I would tuck into bed and slowly and solemnly read his opinion, often forcing my wife to listen on.

What was so special about his reviews? What set him apart from the plethora of reviewers that compete for our attention on "Rotten Tomatoes" or "Metacritic"? For me it was the way he drew parallels between movies and real life. He was not judging a movie on its purely artistic or aesthetic merit; he stayed clear of high-sounding phrases and abstruse concepts. He didn't need and didn't want to show off his cinematic culture or talk condescendingly to his reader. On the contrary, his was an honest, almost heart- to-heart talk, in which he told us how he empathized with the characters, how he was drawn in by the plot, what details about the direction, the cinematography, the acting, the soundtrack had struck a particular chord with him.

But most importantly, he had this uncanny ability to put the movie in the context of "Life itself", to use the title of his book and of the recent documentary about his life. He extracted meaning from virtually every movie; a movie reviewed by Ebert wasn't just a movie, it became a vehicle for exploring our deepest emotions, aspirations, frustrations; a way of redefining our common humanity. After reading an Ebert review, I usually felt a strong connection with the man, because he had opened up to me, he wasn't lecturing me or forcing his interpretation on me.

In fact, he seemed to always want to underline, explicitly or implicitly, that the review was all about how the movie had resonated with HIM. He never pretended that movies weren't what they are: an entirely subjective experience. There are as many reviews as there are persons and, paradoxically, the more personal the review, the more interesting it gets. This is why I liked his reviews even when I didn't agree with them, even if I didn't feel the same emotions he experienced during the picture. After reading a review that I didn't agree with, I even took particular pride in holding a different point of view. Most professional reviewers make you feel stupid if you don't share their strong opinion: if you don't like a movie that they praised, then you are uncultured and unsophisticated; if you loved a movie they torpedoed, you are superficial and have bad taste… Ebert never made you feel that way; on the contrary, you always felt on a level plain.

The documentary "Life Itself", which touches on many aspects of Ebert's life and work, is unmissable for any fan. I would've preferred a more in-depth coverage of his reviews, his relationship with movies, especially the one's that changed his life. In my opinion, director Steve James dwells excessively on Ebert's terminal illness – close-ups of his chin-less face are omnipresent – and on his relationship with his wife and with his television partner Gene Siskel (which takes up an outsize portion of the documentary). For me, Ebert is all about his reviews, and to have given them so little space is a pity.

Even so, I would recommend spending two hours with "Life Itself", even if you've never read an Ebert review: it will introduce you to one of the best movie critics of all time, who has written reviews for half the history of motion pictures and touched the lives of thousands of people – including mine – guiding them through an exciting journey of discovery and self-discovery.

As someone who literally grew up at the movies--my mother took me to anything and everything from my infancy right through my early childhood, until I was old enough to go by myself--my love for and fascination with film is deeply entrenched in my way of thinking, my way of writing, my way of viewing life. And Roger Ebert (with Gene Siskel) was a vital discovery, someone whose opinions were always worth hearing (or reading); someone whose love for film and his way of thinking about it seemed to legitimize my lifelong instinct to appraise and quantify the value of what I was being shown on the big screen. It was all right to question things, or to accept the questionable.

I was staying at my favorite hotel in London some years ago (the mid 80s, as I recall) with a writer friend from Oslo (another lover of film and theater). She and I were having a late-night post-theater meal in the lounge when Roger came bustling through on the way to his room. I nearly levitated from my seat at the sight of him, and after he'd passed from view, I tried, a bit deliriously, to explain to my friend who this man was, and his importance to the world of film. She was awe-struck when I spoke of the format of the show, of two men agreeing or disagreeing over forthcoming films. There was nothing like it anywhere outside of the U.S.

As I watched this documentary, I kept remembering that evening at Brown's Hotel way back then, thinking that Roger would have given this film a wholehearted thumbs up. It is wonderfully coherent, and offers insights into the man, into his extraordinary talents and his tremendous enthusiasm, not just for film but for life and the people he loved. It's not hard to understand how difficult it was for his remarkable wife Chaz to let him go.

Like all good films, it left me sated but sad, missing those years of the wonderful weekly excitement of sitting down with my daughter (now also a lifelong film buff) to watch Sneak Previews and, subsequently, At The Movies. This is a film *not* to be missed. It succeeds on every level.

I guess there's just not much to say about this except that it's bloody brilliant. I feel like so many biographical documentaries might have wanted to talk about the person's entire life, and go through it all. Not this one, and because of it, it never feels bogged down by so much material. It flows through pretty easily and seamlessly, the editing isn't too fast-paced but instead lingers on Ebert's more philosophical viewpoints in his book. It's definitely incredibly sad and beautiful, probably the saddest documentary since Dear Zachary. This is destined to be a crowd-pleaser, as it should be. I strongly recommend it to anyone of any age.

It's pretty brave to name a movie Life Itself. The title alone suggests that the film will provide insight into the weird, unquantifiable, enormous, and very human experience that constitutes… well, life itself. It's even braver considering that the film is actually about a film critic: hardly the most scintillating or important of celebrities, in the Hollywood scheme of things. And yet, this documentary on the life, death and many things in between of pre-eminent American film critic Roger Ebert comes powerfully close to doing its title justice. In narrowing its focus to one human being and his share of triumphs and travails, Life Itself touches on something deeply universal.

For those completely unacquainted with Ebert, Life Itself serves as a useful introduction to America's most recognisable film critic. Even for those who knew of him through his reviews or had some information about the cancer that took his jaw away from him several years ago, the documentary offers plenty of fresh insight into the man himself.

Close friends share their memories of Ebert from his youth, remembering how he made tough professional calls even as the editor of his college newspaper. We watch as he and his collaborator and frenemy, Gene Siskel, become the most popular faces of film criticism in the US. And the camera brings us – oftentimes relentlessly – into the final months of his life, as Ebert trades e- mails (ranging from chirpy to despondent in tone) with director Steve James and struggles through a particularly punishing bout of physiotherapy.

Through it all, a portrait of Ebert emerges – one made all the more impactful because James deftly avoids turning his film into a hagiography. Ebert's sharp wit, intelligence and passion for the movies shine through. But so does his tendency to be petty and competitive over the screen time and fame he must share with Siskel. His love story with his wife Chaz is coloured in by as much joy as tragedy, and James does not shy away from depicting the more banal, dignity-sapping aspects of Ebert's life as a cancer victim.

And yet, what makes Life Itself – based on and named after Ebert's memoirs – so compelling is its subtle conclusion: that we can all choose to be the heroes of our own stories, however small, ordinary or painful they might be. Ebert may not be fighting dragons or fording streams, but he demonstrates superhuman courage whenever he tries to drag his uncooperative body up a flight of steps. This is a hero who gets crotchety, fretful, and sarcastic – the kind of hero who's trapped in his body and forced to communicate through scribbling or notepads or an electronic voice-box, but still manages to reach out with his words and his hope, hanging onto himself and sharing his passion for cinema with film-makers and audiences alike. It's the stuff that movies are far too frequently not made of, and it's the most fitting legacy for a man who spent his life loving them.

(Full, more complete review on Influx Magazine.)

"When did you first want to become a film critic?" is the question I get asked the most, second only to the obligatory "what is your favorite movie?" I always respond to the first question with the same story; I was a four-year-old boy, "reading" the "Tempo" section of the "Chicago Tribune," and by reading, I mean looking at the pictures of the movies in there, cutting them out, and pasting them to a scrapbook I would make. When I finally developed the ability to read, I would "read" some of Roger Ebert's reviews in the "Chicago Sun-Times," and by read, I mean study and honestly look at his writing structure, often rereading sentences of his over and over that struck me as comedic or ones that hit home harder than I was ever used to being hit. To say Ebert was an influence on me and my writing is still a monumental oversimplification.

Even more of an oversimplification than what I'm about to say concerning Steve James' long-awaited documentary "Life Itself," based on the life and memoir of film critic Roger Ebert. I laughed, cried, talked back to the screen, voiced my own opinions, and indulged in some of the most gratifying and entertaining two hours of my life watching his documentary unfold. Frequently I wasn't subtle in showing my emotions, pervasively tearing up when I saw the way his loving wife Chaz Ebert would help and assist Roger in any way, shape, or form he needed, and sometimes just laughing or cheering at the hilarious and often vulgar banter him and his colleague Gene Siskel would exchange on the set of their show "Sneak Previews." While all this was happening, the whole time wishing, hoping, and grieving to be half the film critic he was, leaving a tenth of the impact he did on a culture and an industry.

The film chronicles the humble beginnings to the meteoric rise to fame Roger Ebert endured, coming from your average family in Illinois to becoming known and recognized at the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign for his persistent editing and managing of the school's newspaper, "The Daily Illini." Eventually, Ebert became the youngest film critic to ever hold the professional position for the "Chicago Sun-Times," the liberal, blue collar, working class paper that directly competed with the wealthier and more conservative "Chicago Tribune" right across the street. Ebert worked to breed life and an identity in the field where, before his time, film reviews were written by whomever happened to go to the movies that weekend under the name "Mae Tinee" - look at that name very closely.

It wasn't long before Ebert became known in the newspaper circle, winning the Pulitzer Prize early in his career, developing a TV show with the "Chicago Tribune's" film critic Gene Siskel, in one of Television's most charismatic and checkered relationships in the medium's history, to his personal bouts with alcoholism, to becoming one with the industry's actors, directors, writers, and so forth. Numerous colleagues of Ebert speak out on his impact on an unrecognized industry, like film critic A.O. Scott of "The New York Times," who labels Siskel and Ebert's Television show as a work of "transgressiveness" for the medium, being that these two men were who they were, verbally fighting about each others opinions on film, not complimenting and making classy remarks like "I see your point" at the completion of each others sentences. They fought over opinions like you and your relatives do with political opinions and exchanges over the dinner table.

Ebert also made the casual man appreciate film for its aesthetics, its beauty, and its capabilities, commenting on the film medium as "a machine that generates empathy," in a speech more beautiful than anything I could be given a year to cook up. He gave quieter independent films an outlet on his show with Siskel, so that you and I would know them more than just "some arty movie playing downtown."

James is all encompassing with "Life Itself," tirelessly trying to capture everything that occurred in Ebert's life, and not only miraculously succeeding, but doing succeeding overwhelmingly, to the extent one would assume impossible in just two hours that were destined to race past, as they did. James develops on Ebert's long checkered bouts with cancer, multiple different surgeries, to even showing the last few months of his life, which were largely spent in hospitals with a tireless Chaz right by his side. A cruel but necessary juxtaposition of events comes when we see home video footage of Ebert walking with his step-grandson in Europe for lengthy periods of time contrasted with an ailing but determined Ebert struggling to walk on a treadmill at a rehabilitation facility, wheezing and becoming short of breath from just a few steps.

"Life Itself" is destined to be the most emotional, moving documentary I see all year, if not the most emotional, moving film I see all year. Its detailing of a life so grand, a person so complex, and a man so original and captured in the spirit of himself in a delightfully open way makes for a film that I struggle to summarize in a way that gives it proper credit. In that case, I close my review of my current favorite documentary of 2014 in a softly poetic way, rather than a didactic or smarmy way, republishing an ode to Roger Ebert I wrote on part of my eighth grade class in 2009.

Ode to Roger Ebert

Film Critic, Columnist, like a brother. Reviews movies like none other. Bias towards him, and the ones that came. But other reviews can never be the same. One star. Two stars. Three stars. Four. Others make reviewing seem like a chore. I like Ebert for evermore.

Directed by: Steve James.