Famed film critic Roger Ebert died yesterday. He was 70.
My favorite thing about Ebert’s reviews is their consistent voice and principle. He was very effective at plainspoken profundity, and he’d frequently say things that I chewed on for the day after reading. I also much appreciated his philosophy of reviewing a film on its own terms. “How good is this movie,
for what it is?” his reviews asked. That’s how he did things like give The Devil’s Rejects a positive review. He didn’t evaluate it against Terms of Endearment. There is a genuineness there that often goes missing in his ostensible peers.
(He never really got David Lynch, but hey, the guy’s got to have one hang-up, right?)
I hope I never face serious illness, but if I must, I hope I can muster half the hell Roger Ebert gave his. He never surrendered. More remarkably (and admirably), he kept the responsibility for his own happiness. Therefore, he kept the happiness itself, through circumstances in which many reasonable people would have thrown it in. Thank you for the inspiration, sir.
RIP.
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