When I was in 10th grade, my career goal was to be an "entertainment journalist". A fervent reader of Entertainment Weekly since the late 1990's, my dream job was to watch and review movies and get paid for it.
Well, the world has changed a lot since I was 16. With the advent of the Internet, blogs, and social media, everyone has the ability to critique everything, from films and television shows, to vaccines and the right for gay people to adopt children. Everyone has a voice and an opinion--and we all know that this is both a blessing and a curse.
But society has changed in another way: the idea of "expertise" has changed. With Wikipedia, the average Joe or Jane on the street has the right and ability to add their expert knowledge to the flowing stream of publicly available information. Again, this is a blessing and curse: on the one hand, we have more access to information than ever, AND we aren't bound by old-fashioned (and racist, sexist) notions of who qualifies as an expert. But on the other hand, the idea that everyone and no one is an expert leads some to lose faith in the actual experts and professionals. For example: losing faith in doctors and evidence-based medicine has led to measles, mumps, and whooping cough outbreaks.
All this is to say that there was a time not too long ago when a few individuals could achieve fame and (relative) fortune simply by giving their opinion about the movies. Roger Ebert was one of those individuals, and boy did he deserve his fame and (relative) fortune. If you've ever read Ebert's reviews (they're all archived here, along with current reviews from writers carrying on Ebert's torch), you'll find that they are, to a one, thoughtful and funny. Reading his reviews is like listening to your clever, irreverent friend describe a movie he just saw. In fact, when I started this blog, I modeled it after the way Ebert wrote his reviews: he went beyond basic description and tied films to the realities of our culture (for example, his review of Raging Bull opens with a meditation on the "Madonna-whore" complex some men have). This makes sense, as cinema is not just entertainment, but art. And the purpose of art is not simply to be beautiful or ugly, but to reflect beautiful and ugly things in our culture. Ebert understood this, and his deep, passionate, unquenchable love for the movies--and, indeed, life itself--shines through his reviews in a way you don't see too often.
Life Itself is a documentary about Ebert based on his autobiography of the same title. Though it covers all the highlights and achievements in Ebert's life (his Pulitzer win in 1975, his decades-long partnership with film critic Gene Siskel [and their 'frenemies'-style relationship], his late in life marriage to Chaz Hammelsmith), Life Itself is notable for its lengthy scenes set in the hospital near the end of Ebert's life. Throughout the early 2000's, Ebert underwent multiple surgeries to remove cancerous tissue in his neck and jaw. By 2006, most of his lower jaw had been removed and he could no longer speak or eat without the assistance of a tube. This documentary is, in my opinion, incredibly brave (as is, obviously, Ebert) to show the full extent of Ebert's physical appearance and daily challenges near the end of his life. Sensitive viewers should be warned: it's not pretty. Ebert's jaw is gone, leaving behind the skin that would have covered the absent jawbone. It's gruesome to watch at first, but as the documentary progresses, you realize that there's still a twinkle in Ebert's eyes, and he's still quick to smile and make a joke (albeit with the use of a computer) and that he is still complete, still whole, despite his many health setbacks. It's a wonderful--and heartbreaking--thing to see. Especially since Life Itself takes us right to the brink of Ebert's final days.
Even if you're not very familiar with Ebert's work (and to be honest, I haven't read as much of his writing as some of my more gung-ho movie friends), Life Itself is a fascinating, heart-wrenching, and joyous documentary that celebrates the life of an imperfect, unusual, whip-smart man who, with a "thumbs up" or "thumbs down", had the ability to make or break a movie. Or at the very least, convince you to go see it. He influenced multiple generations of film lovers, including myself, with his writing. Life Itself pays him a well-deserved tribute.
Grade: B+
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