Not Sure Where My Thumb Goes

If you're one of the smart folks who comes to this blog site every day, you will notice that I now write movie reviews for pretty much every film I see in theaters.  Part of the reason for this is to fill this blog with new content every day.  There are only so many pieces I can write about my grandmother or how America is flushing itself down the toilet.

But, another reason behind my film reviews is a tip of the cap to those legendary mainstream movie critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, who made the whole process palatable for the average fan.  I was a huge fan of their old PBS show in the late 70s.  It helped me pick what I would go to see that Saturday night.   And I never wavered from using them right through the 80s and the 90s.

Truth be told, I was always a Gene Siskel guy.   He seemed to have a more practical viewpoint of what passed for good movie entertainment.   He was agenda-free.  Meanwhile, Roger was a bit of a cinema snob.   He always favored movies made in Chicago.   And found everything made by Black filmmakers to be epic.   According Ebert, it wasn't Jesus Christ born in a manger, but Spike Lee.   Of course, you might understand the bias.   Roger was married to an ultra-liberal African American.   I figure he would like those urban movies basically to keep the peace at home.

The relationship between Siskel and Ebert was prickly at best and fascinating to watch.  I always got the impression that these guys really didn't like each other and, as I learned in the new documentary "Life Itself" by Steve James, they didn't.  They were oil and water and, as Gene's widow states, "Roger was always full of himself."  

Unlike the strong opinions held by Gene and Roger, I really don't know what to think about this documentary, which is mainly a tribute to Ebert who died just a year ago.  When the story focuses on his youth, it was quite interesting.   He was a hard-nosed Chicago journalist and most definitely an alcoholic.  From tales told by his friends, he was a genius and a pompous boob all wrapped up in one tweed sports jacket.

When "Life Itself" gets to the section on Siskel and Ebert's partnership, I was riveted.   The stories about their work together on TV are hilarious.   They were constantly competing with one another.  There is a series of outtakes from their filming show promos.  Roger is correcting Gene's English.  Gene is taking shots at Roger.   The words "you asshole" are thrown around liberally.   I was a fan.

But, if only that's all "Life Itself" was about.   But, sadly, it's not.

Indeed, the movie itself was started by Roger and his wife, Chaz, with an assist from....of all people....Marty Scorsese.  And the decision was made to juxtapose all his latest illnesses with the history of his career.   You follow Roger from hospital to hospital, therapy session to therapy session, bad diagnosis to bad diagnosis.

If you saw Roger in his later years, you know this is painful to watch.   The bottom part of his mouth is gone.  He sort of looks like what happened when the movable mechanism broke on my Jerry Mahoney dummy.  He can speak only through a sound synthesizer on his laptop.   Most of the time, he communicates by clapping his hands wildly like Cheeta in the Tarzan movies.   Cameras follow him for the last six months of his life and we really shouldn't be watching this.   If you've ever watched a loved one die from cancer, you want to avoid whatever multiplex theater is playing this film.

Admittedly, Roger has made a very conscious decision to be incredibly public about his failing health.  That, in itself, is a veiled shot at former partner Gene, who had told only his immediate family that he had terminal brain cancer.  Roger across the aisle never knew.   And was still smarting from this.

So, as a result, we get to watch all the grimness surrounding him.   We get to watch nurses suction out what's left of his throat not once but twice.   The second time, the procedure is played to the music "Reeling in the Years" by Steely Dan.   Thanks to Roger Ebert, I can never listen to that song again.

"Life Itself" varied wildly in tone and content.   Half of it is fascinating and compelling.   The other half is mawkish and overbearing.  As a result, you get my thumb heading...nowhere.

Indeed, it's very self-servicing and a movie that Roger Ebert would have loved.

My guess is that Gene Siskel would have hated it.   

And, one more time, I am in sync with the guy from the Chicago Tribune.

LEN'S RATING:  Two and a half stars.

Dinner last night:  Bacon burger at Empire City Casino.