I've never professed to be any sort of great critic. That definition would be highly subjective anyway. But I know there is such thing as a great critic. Perhaps first and foremost among critics, and especially here in Chicago, there stood only one, the legendary Roger Ebert.
Simply by virtue of my age, I am admittedly no great expert on Ebert and his work. Through the magic of social networking, though, I've come to appreciate his wit through both Tweets and blog posts. He was certainly one of a kind.
And it was not until today that I understood just how much I am really going to miss reading his writing. A screenwriting student in one of my classes very nearly broke down in tears upon hearing of Ebert's passing. The effect for me was far less immediate, but after reading a slew of touching memorial tweets by his friends, fellow journalists, and moviegoers alike, I find myself a bit choked up at the thought of his Twitter feed and his blog going silent.
He was unabashedly steadfast in his own opinions, something I feel many of us writers (both amateur and professional) find difficult to do in a world that can be so harshly critical. If he didn't like a movie but you did, you could extol its virtues six ways to Sunday and you still wouldn't be able to budge him from his stance. He came off as curmudgeonly and frank. Although at first glance it seemed a bit brusque and difficult to adjust to, his manner is one I hope to emulate (though certainly not replicate, for that would be impossible).
As a person and a personality, he was not conventional by any means. On the anniversary of Gene Siskel's death, he posted a link on Twitter to an interview he did with Siskel on Howard Stern's show. During the interview, he was gruff at times, humorous at others. It was conducted during the nascent stages of his relationship with the woman he would later marry, and when Stern inquired about Ebert's relationship with someone of a different race, Ebert basically said 'So what?' (In my humble opinion, there was also a bit of a 'Screw you' implied, and if there was, I don't blame him. Because what does it really matter anyway?). That is the one part of the interview that truly stuck with me. It wasn't necessarily shocking; I found it respectable because of his refusal to censor himself or hide his own feelings.
That was the way Ebert conducted himself, and that was the way he wrote. His actions were unapologetic, his opinions required no further explanation, and even though he seemed irascible at times, people still respected him. I would imagine he loved blogging; no 'bleep' to hold him back, no one to tell him what topics were off limits...
Ebert even wrote about his own death. An excerpt from his book, posted online after he passed and tweeted out shortly thereafter by British actor Stephen Fry, demonstrates that he approached the end with the same tenacity he exhibited in everything. He was not afraid of it. I'll post the link
here if you'd care to peruse it.
This weekend I plan to visit his blog and truly read it, perhaps even start to finish. I want to remember him by his writing, in all of its feisty frankness.
I'm sorry to have only realized my desire to read his writings at the moment of his death. But someone wrote about that once, didn't they? Ah, The Band Perry... "funny when you're dead how people start listening..."
I heard bits and pieces before, but I'm listening now. Rest in peace, Roger. As many have already tweeted today, The Balcony Is Closed.
Sincerely and Respectfully, A Fellow Writer:
~AF
