Lament for Ebert

I can't say I knew Ebert's body of work particularly well; I know I religiously watched Siskel & Ebert growing up, but I can remember almost none of those reviews. I've read more than a handful online when I was curious what he thought (even when I disagreed, I always liked his point of view), but certainly have read less than a hundred. But in a strange way, he was remarkably influential on me.

I remember seeing him give his thumbs up to a ridiculous lampoon, Hot Shots: Part Deux, I believe. I remember how amazing that seemed, and how I realized that it was okay to like silly things and like grand things, too, even as an adult. I loved his openness to a variety of film, and like many, I read the magazine article provocatively trumpeting the last words of Roger Ebert - at the time, years ago, referring to the fact that he could no longer speak - with great interest. I was deeply impressed by his ability to move past the loss of his jaw, and his fundamental cheer.

Even when I disagreed with him, I liked how he articulated himself. He seemed like he was on the side of art; like one of our team. He really cared about making good film, knowing good stories.

In short, I liked him. Late to say it, but Ebert: I'll miss you.