I’m not going to talk about Roger Ebert’s long battle with cancer. I know it was brutal.
I’m not even going to talk about how he kept on working, right up to the end of his life. I know he was a prolific writer, offering his opinions on everything from his beloved films to his favorite sports teams. He even managed to master the social media that often fails me, all while fighting a tough foe.
All I want to say is that he never steered me wrong when it came to the movies. I can’t ever remember seeing a film that he loved and feeling like I needed to walk out. Other reviewers? Holy cow! But Roger was what I call a real movie lover’s reviewer. He wasn’t there to tell you how fabulous he was or what a genius he was at reviewing movies. His passion was the silver screen. Isn’t that what allowed him to stay for the dogs and be able to tell you why they stunk?
A good film reviewer understands why he or she really enjoyed or loathed a film. That same reviewer can pinpoint where the story falls apart or when it starts to tick all the boxes. Roger Ebert had the knack of finding the true heart of any movie and determining, for me, whether it was worth my ten bucks. Should I see it? Should I wait till it comes out on video/DVD? Major film? Minor film?
What I loved best were some of the quirky films on his lists. Foreign films. Wacky films. Wild films. He would say what he would and I could tell from his description whether I would actually enjoy it. Let’s face it. Anyone who watched that many movies in a single year had a much higher tolerance for a broad range of storylines than the average moviegoer. He just loved them — old classics, new classics, and everything in between.
I could make this a cancer tribute to a legend who shared his insights about what was appearing on the big screen, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to give a disease that kind of power over someone who refused to concede to it. I’m glad we had the years we had with Roger Ebert. I’m glad he shared his passion for film. Because of him, I went to the movies and laughed till my sides hurt, cried till my eyes were red, and was stirred by feelings I never knew I had in me. Thanks, Mr. Ebert. You will be missed.