Life Itself (2014) - full transcript

Ebert: We all are born
with a certain package.

We are who we are.

Where we were born,
who we were born as,

how we were raised.

We're kind of stuck
inside that person...

and the purpose of
civilization and growth,

is to be able to reach out

and empathize a little
bit with other people.

And for me, the movies are like a
machine that generates empathy.

It lets you understand
a little bit more

about different hopes,
aspirations, dreams and fears.



It helps us to identify
with the people

who are sharing this
journey with us.

Man: Exactly five months
before his death,

Roger and Chaz and I met to plan

the beginning of an ambitious
schedule of filming,

including interviews
and critic screenings.

Roger mentioned in passing
that his hip was sore.

The very next day he
entered the hospital.

So now I got a hairline
fracture to the femur bone.

I didn't fall and have
no idea how it happened.

It's bloody painful.

This is my seventh
time at rehab.

This table is weird.

I type much, much better
at home in my usual chair.



Show Steve the new chair.

It reclines.

He will see more of it.

James: So Roger, did you not
pay your insurance premiums,

and so you didn't get
the chair till now?

Ebert: Steve, I'll
do the jokes here.

This is Flora.

Also, this is Sonya
Evans, my stepdaughter.

I do what they tell me to do.

Flora: You wanna rest a little
bit, or work a little bit?

Ebert: Steve is the director.

I'm just gonna sit down.

James: Although Roger had supported
my films over the years,

this film was the first chance
to really get to know him.

Ebert: Steve, shoot
yourself in the mirror.

Flora: There he is.

Hi, Carol.

I'm Carol. I'm Roger's assistant

for over 20 years,
Roger and Chaz.

And Zero Dark something is
winning all the awards, Roger.

It won another big award.

And the Bears lost.

"My daily..." What?

"briefing."

Okay, Roger.

And then Mayor Daley's,
you know, nephew

went to court today. Remember,
for the Koschman thing

that the Sun-Times
really uncovered...

Ebert: I always
worked on newspapers.

There was a persistent need,

not only to write,
but to publish.

In grade school, I wrote and published
the Washington Street News,

which I solemnly delivered to
neighbors in Urbana, Illinois,

as if it existed
independently of me.

At the News Gazette, a
line-o-type operator

set my by-line in lead:
"By Roger Ebert."

I was electrified.

When I went home with it,
you could take a stamp pad,

you could put your
by-line on everything.

My parents finally had
to take it away from me.

Everything was by Roger Ebert.

And I went to work full-time
for the local newspaper

when I was 15, first
as a sports writer,

general assignment,
working late,

being there with the
newspapermen back in the '50s.

It was unspeakably romantic.

I can write, I
just always could.

On the other hand, I
flunked French five times.

In the spring of 1960, I announced
I wanted to go to Harvard,

like Jack Kennedy
and Thomas Wolfe.

"Boy, there's no money to send
you to Harvard," Daddy said.

Man: The Urbana Champaign campus
of the University of Illinois:

to provide knowledge
for a better tomorrow.

Ebert: I would go to my
hometown university.

I wouldn't be an electrician
like my father.

Man: He told me one day
his father said to him,

"Roger, there's
professors over there,

that's what you
oughta do some day.

You wanna sit there with a pipe,

and a cardigan sweater with
your feet up on the desk."

I think his father recognized
early on that Roger had a gift.

I joined The Daily Illini,
and I ran into him then.

Ebert: During my
years at Illinois,

I spent more time working on The
Daily Illini than studying.

It was in every sense
a real newspaper,

published five days a week, on
an ancient Goss rotary press

that made the building tremble.

As editor, I was a case study:

tactless, egotistical,
merciless, and a showboat.

Nack: And he was.

But it worked because
he could back it up.

It was intimidating to
the members of the staff

because he was like a
mature writer at that time.

Now here, when those four
children were killed

in the church bombing
in Birmingham,

there was a huge protest
around the country.

Man: Four hundred students gathered
on the university quadrangle

to protest the bombing of
an Alabama Sunday school.

Nack: And Roger was the voice
of outrage on this campus.

He started off his column by quoting Dr.
Martin Luther King,

who said to George Wallace,

"The blood of these innocent
children is on your hands."

That ended the quote.

Then Roger began his
column by saying,

"That is not entirely the truth.

And it is not new blood.

It is old, very old.

And as Lady Macbeth discovered,

it will not ever wash away."

That began a column written
by a 21 -year-old guy,

and he said it better than
anybody said it all week.

Roger was editor on
November 22nd, 1963,

when John F. Kennedy was shot.

At around two o'clock in the
morning, the presses rolled,

gigantic presses,
two stories high,

chug and chug,

and Ebert was doing
what editors do

at the end of the day:
check out the pages.

And he opens it up and there's
a picture of John F. Kennedy,

and an ad of a pilgrim
with a musket

pointed at Kennedy's head.

Ebert said, "We
gotta switch this."

The pressman said like,
"Hear that sound, Roger?

That's the sound of
newspapers being printed."

Unlike in movies, you
didn't stop the presses.

And Ebert said, "We're not
gonna print that tomorrow.

We gotta stop the presses."

Ebert became famous
to us for that,

because, you know,
here was a kid

taking control of
an adult situation

and making a news judgment,
an important one.

♪

Ebert: Chicago was the great
city over the horizon.

We read Chicago's newspapers

and listened to its
powerful AM radio stations.

Man on radio: Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen,

it's midnight here in Chicago.

Ebert: Long after midnight,

I listened to Jack Egan
broadcasting live.

Egan: Chez Lounge and the
world famous Chez Paree.

Ebert: Chatting with Martin and
Lewis, or Rosemary Clooney.

I'd been accepted as a
PhD candidate in English

by the University of
Chicago, but I needed a job.

I got a part time job
at the Sun-Times,

and then five months later,

the film critic retired
and they gave me the job.

I did not apply for it.

Newspaper film critics had
been interchangeable.

Some papers had by-lines that
different people wrote under.

For example, the
Tribune had Mae Tinee,

and that could be whoever
went to the movies that day.

Because Mae Tinee really
spelled out "matinee."

I was at that time the youngest
daily film critic in America.

And it was a real good
time to be a movie critic.

Armed robbery.

Bet you wouldn't have
the gumption to use it.

Now, come here.

Ebert: It is also

- Hey! What's your name, anyhow?
- Clyde Barrow.

Hi, I'm Bonnie Parker.

Pleased to meet you.

Ebert: "The fact that the story

is set 35 years ago
doesn't mean a thing.

It had to be set sometime,

Roger was the most facile
writer I ever came across.

Anybody that has
ever seen him work.

He could, he could knock out

a full thought out movie
review in 30 minutes.

Fast and furious.

Man: There were so many
reporters that formed

easy quick friendships
because they were smart,

they were good writers,
they were literate,

and they could tell a
good story in a saloon.

Ebert: O'Rourke's was our stage,

and we displayed our
personas there nightly.

It was a shabby street corner tavern
on a dicey stretch of North Avenue,

a block after Chicago's Old Town
stopped being a tourist haven.

When a roomer who
lived upstairs died,

his body was discovered when maggots
started to drop through the ceiling.

For many years, I drank there

more or less every night
when I was in town.

So did a lot of people.

McHugh: We all sat
at the same place.

The newspaper guys here,

the druggies in the middle,

the surly staff at the
very end of the bar.

Roger has always been
attracted to weird types.

I mean, you should see
some of the women

that he's hauled in to
O'Rourke's over the years.

Man: Back in the old days,

Roger had, probably the
worst taste in women

of any man I've ever known.

They were either gold diggers,

opportunists, or psychos.

Yeah, I met Roger one
time with a woman

that looked like a
young Linda Ronstadt,

and when she was gone
from the table briefly,

I said, "Who is that?"

And he said, "She's
a hired lady."

And I said, "A hooker?"

And he said, "Now you take
care of her when I leave."

And he left town. And anyway...

McHugh: Roger, he used to hang from
the lamppost at the end of the bar.

When he got going,

Roger was one of the
finest storytellers

that I have ever come across.

He would hold court,

and it's not like everyone
was invited to join in

and have a colloquy with him.

Since he bought
drinks for everybody

when he had the money,
who's not to listen?

Simon: His great friend
was John McHugh.

And I remember a famous argument

over who was the more
cosmopolitan of the two.

And Ebert was saying,
"John, I travel the world.

I go to every country in Europe.

I go to Cannes.

I'm a cosmopolitan person."

John said, "Ebert, you don't
even speak a foreign language."

And Ebert said, "I speak
enough to be able

to order two Johnny Walker
Blacks anywhere in the world."

Any sober human being
looking at the two of them

would have decided neither was
actually a cosmopolitan figure.

Ebert: I discovered there
was nothing like drinking

with a crowd to
make you a member.

I copied the idealism and
cynicism of the reporters.

I spoke like they did.

Laughed at the same things.

Felt that I belonged.

Kogan: Studs wasn't a Chicagoan.

Nelson Algren wasn't born here.

Saul Bellow wasn't born here.

But there's a certain
kind of Chicago character

that Roger really came
to believe that he was.

Roger was not just
the chief character

and star of the movie
that was his life.

He was also the director,
and he brought in the cast,

and the scenario, and
he orchestrated it.

Elliot: He loved it!

Those characters, what they did.

John the garbage man.
Hank the communist.

I remember the night that Jim
Touley punched J. Robert Nash,

knocked him down to
the bar room floor,

and Nash looked up and he
said, "Nice punch, Jimmy!"

♪

Man: When O'Rourke's closed he
would go down to the Ale House,

because that was a
four o'clock bar.

The mood got rougher and rougher

as people got drunker
and drunker.

Elliot: Roger was good at dishing,
but he also could take it.

"I'm a fat guy, I'm gonna have
to learn how to take fat stuff."

Roger could hold his
own with all of them.

James: Everybody kind of says
that deep down he's a nice guy.

He is a nice guy, but
he's not that nice.

He's not that nice.

Elliot: The last week
he was drinking,

I even realized that there was
a serious problem going on.

Watching him when he
pulled out that night

in front of O'Rourke's,
and almost, you know,

ran into the North Avenue bus.

I remember being
in the drug store

that was on the corner
there one morning,

and Roger came in, and he
looked like absolute hell.

And I'm like, "Are you okay?
What's the matter?"

"I'm on a bender. Can you
come have a drink with me?"

He said to me one time,

and I don't think he'll
regard this as a betrayal,

that he would walk
home late at night,

after O'Rourke's had closed,

and he would wish he was dead.

Ebert: I found it almost
impossible once I started,

to stop after one or two. I
paid a price in hangovers.

Without hangovers, it's possible

that I would still be drinking.

I would also be unemployed,
unmarried, and probably dead.

In August 1979, I
took my last drink.

It was about four o'clock
on a Saturday afternoon.

The hot sun streaming
through the windows.

I put a glass of scotch and soda
down on the living room table,

went to bed, and pulled the
blankets over my head.

I couldn't take it anymore.

McHugh: He says, "I quit."

And then I realized it's
time for me to quit, too.

The next time I saw Roger
Ebert, he was in AA.

I was drinking very heavily.

Ebert: When I decided to out
myself as a recovering alcoholic,

I hadn't taken a
drink for 31 years.

And since my first AA
meeting I attended,

I've never wanted to.

Since surgery in July of 2006,

I haven't been able to drink
at all, or eat or speak.

Unless I go insane and start
pouring booze into my g-tube,

I believe I'm reasonably safe.

Woman: That's it.

James: By the time I got
home from this shoot,

there was an email
waiting for me.

Woman: Did we get it?

I hope so, too.

Ebert: When I
mentioned in my blog

that I could no longer
eat, drink, or speak,

a reader wrote,
"Do you miss it?"

Not so much, really. I
lived in a world of words

long before I was aware of it.

The new reality
took shape slowly.

My blog became my
voice, my outlet.

It let loose the
flood of memories.

They came pouring forth
in a flood of relief.

One day in the spring of 1967,

I noticed Faster, Pussycat!
Kill Kill!

Playing at the Biograph
on Lincoln Avenue.

♪

Ebert: The posters displayed
improbably buxom women,

and I was inside in a flash.

That was when it
first registered

that there was a filmmaker
named Russ Meyer.

♪

♪

Ebert: In 1969, the 20th Century
Fox studio invited Meyer

to the lot for an interview.

They owned the
rights to the title

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls,

and offered him the title
unattached to any story.

Meyer offered me the
screenwriting job,

and I fell into a
delirious adventure.

Woman: The most impossible
question for me to answer is,

"How on earth did
Roger Ebert write

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls?"

Or be interested in
writing such a script?

Or be involved with Russ Meyer?

I have no answer.

James: What did he love about
Russ' films do you think?

Boobs.

The fact that there were large
breasted women involved

probably was a plus.

You know, we can talk a lot
about the art of cinema,

and what we find in it,

and the sort of the magic

and the dreams and
the glory of it,

but there are also other,
kind of, earthier appeals.

You wanna make love?

Then let's make love.

Here?

Woman: No, in L.A. Man: L.A?

Woman: Where is that?
Man: We'd get crushed.

Ebert: Meyer wanted
everything in the screenplay

except the kitchen sink.
The movie, he explained,

would simultaneously
be a satire,

a serious melodrama,

a rock musical, a comedy,

a violent exploitation picture,

a skin flick, and a
moralistic exposé

of the oft-times nightmarish
world of show business.

Man: It's a no talent town.
Woman: Don't put it down.

I had to review for the
Chicago Sun-Times,

and I think I gave it three stars,
because Roger was my friend.

And somewhere deep
in the piece said,

"This is a new rating
system, ten stars,

so this gets three out of ten."

This is my happening
and it freaks me out!

Man: I reviewed the film
in National Review.

And listed it as one of the
10 great films of the 1960s.

It was funny, it had a
pulse that raced past

Howard Hawk's film
from the '40s.

But with the wild
who-gives-a-shit air,

it was perfect for
the late '60s.

You're a groovy boy.

I'd like to strap
you on sometime.

Beyond the Valley.

It's beyond it.

You know, this is a title, because
you're gonna go beyond it.

It went over my head.

That doesn't mean I
didn't enjoy it.

I did like her having
sex in the Bentley.

It's my first time in a Rolls.

Because of the way
he cut to the grill.

There's nothing like a Rolls.

Not even a Bentley.

Not even a Bentley.

Bentley! Rolls!

A Rolls. A Rolls!

But I did like that
editing in the Bentley.

I don't really have
any new confessions.

It is true that the first 10
years I came to the conference,

I came primarily
hoping to get laid.

That didn't work out.

Ebert: I lived more than nine months
of my life in Boulder, Colorado,

one week at a time.

It all happened at the
sleep-inducingly named,

"Conference on World Affairs."

Nack: It's a conference that comes
together once a year at Boulder.

Astrophysicists, sociologists,
experts of the Middle East.

Free wheeling... and engaging.

Roger was an absolute star.

He was the longest running
panelist in history of the CWA.

Ebert: I was in my 20s when I
first came to the conference.

There, I was on a panel
about the Establishment

with Henry Fairly,
who coined the term.

I discussed masturbation

with the Greek Ambassador
to the United Nations.

There I asked Ted Turner

how he got so much right
and colorization wrong.

He would hold what was
called Cinema Interruptus.

On Monday of World Affairs
week, Roger would show a film.

Tuesday through Friday
he would conduct

a shot by shot
discussion of the film.

Man: To listen to Roger talk
for upwards of five hours

about In Cold Blood,
or The Third Man,

or Vertigo, or Citizen Kane,

he was enlightening
with every new frame.

It was a theatrical experience
of the highest order.

Man: And anybody who
wanted to, at any moment,

could yell out, "Stop,"

to ask a question or
make a statement.

Stop!

Look at that.

Every year we find something
absolutely amazing,

totally amazing in the films.

It's not there, but we find it.

There was a limit to Roger's
democratizing of film criticism.

A student asked, "Who
do you think you are

that you get to have
all these opinions?

I saw Porky's and I
think Porky's is great,

so why don't I get
to talk about it?"

And Roger said, "I have
two things to say.

First, Marshall Field, who
owns the Chicago Sun-Times,

appointed me film critic...
that's who I am."

And he said, "My other
thing is a question.

Would you wanna listen to you?"

After the year that Roger came

and worked with a
voice synthesizer,

he decided not to come again.

He said it was too hard.

Ebert: I won't return
to the conference.

It is fueled by speech,
and I am out of gas.

But I went there for
my adult lifetime,

and had a hell of a good time.

Woman: The move is taking place,

and they are loading
up the medical car

to take us over to RIC.

Will you send an email
for me, please?

Come in.

Is there a special back elevator
that we go down here or?

Well, actually, yeah.

Chaz: Because the last time we
took him from this hospital,

we had to push the
chair past the morgue.

Everything. And we
got lost down there.

He's excited because he gets to
see a movie he wants to see.

It should be coming
over later today.

So he's happy about that.

I'm glad we don't have
to go under that...

the underground anymore.

Past the morgue.

We're not ready for it!

You've been working away, huh?

You have a lot of writing to do.

I was hoping you could see

at least one of them
on a big screen.

When he was in the
hospital before,

we took a semi-not sanctioned
trip out of the hospital.

Bundled him up and took
him to the movies.

But I don't know if... I don't
think the doctor will let you out.

Oops.

Ebert: Chaz is a strong woman.
I never met anyone like her.

I think it'll be easier.
You can...

Ebert: She is the
love of my life.

Just wanna make sure
that you don't get cold.

Ebert: She saved me from the fate
of living out my life alone,

which is where I
seemed to be heading.

Chaz: The first time he actually
saw me was at an AA meeting.

And it's the first time
I've ever said it publicly.

Roger became very
public about his...

but I felt that it was, you
know, more private for me.

If it doesn't fit,
you must acquit.

Chaz: Roger weighed 300 pounds
when we first started dating.

He didn't care that he was fat.

He thought he was great.

And that was so sexy.

I take it this is not yours.

Ebert: If my cancer had come, and
Chaz had not been there with me,

I can imagine a descent
into lonely decrepitude.

That I am still
active, going places,

moving, is directly
because of her.

My instinct was to guard myself.

I could never again be on
television as I once was.

She said, "Yes, but
people are interested

in what you have to say,
not in how you say it."

James: With Roger now headed

for at least a couple
of weeks of rehab,

he suggested I email him
questions in advance

of our major interview
when he gets back home.

I sent him the first third
of nine pages of questions.

He emailed me back.

- Hello.
- Hi, how are you?

Welcome to RIC. My name's Jackie and
we're going to go in this room.

Chaz: Okay. Man: How are you?

I am politically
my father's child,

and emotionally
more my mother's.

My mother supported me as if
I was the local sports team.

But she was fatalistic.

She was permanently scarred
by the Depression,

and constantly predicted she would
end up in the county poor home.

My parents so strongly
encouraged my schoolwork.

We even took a third
paper at home,

the Chicago Daily
News, for me to read.

When I stood in
the kitchen door,

and used a sentence
with a new word in it,

they would look up from
their coffee and cigarettes

and actually applaud me.

This is the memorable occasion

that Roger was given
the Pulitzer Prize.

Simon: Usually, when somebody
won a Pulitzer Prize,

it was, "Who is he to win
a Pulitzer?", you know.

"Yeah, I'll go
congratulate him, yeah."

But for Roger, there
was real joy.

You know, it was our Roger.

One of us.

Flaum: The only Pulitzer
Prize, for years and years,

ever given to a movie critic.

Simon: Roger wrote
his movie reviews

as if he were sitting
in the 15th row,

taking notes with one hand and
eating popcorn with the other.

But he didn't simplify things.

It envelops us in a red
membrane of passion and fear.

And in some way that I
do not fully understand,

it employs taboos and ancient
superstitions to make its effect.

Scott: I think the
way that he writes,

that sort of clear, plain,
Midwestern newspaper style,

conveys enormous intelligence,

encyclopedic learning,

but doesn't condescend,
doesn't pander.

Roger would become the definitive
mainstream film critic

in American letters.

He made it possible for
a bigger audience,

a wider audience to appreciate
cinema as an art form.

Because he really loved it.

Really, really loved films,

and he did not get caught up

in certain ideologies about
what cinema should be.

Nack: After he won the Pulitzer,

if he had a mind to go
to The New York Times,

he could've done that,
The Boston Globe,

The LA Times, no problem.

Simon: Ben Bradley, editor
of The Washington Post,

of Watergate fame,
went after Roger hard.

Offered him the
sun and the moon.

Ebert just kept saying no.

He said, "I'm not gonna
learn new streets..."

which is very Ebert-like.

The Sun-Times went
through rough times.

So many regimes.

The Murdoch era which
had crashed the paper.

So many people left.

Man: And Roger
remained steadfast.

I remember Roger saying,
"I'm not gonna run away."

- Right.
- These are my colleagues

and not everybody can
get another job.

If someone went across the street
for a job, they were selling out.

You didn't even say the Tribune.

You'd just say went
across the street.

Simon: It was a huge clash
in political difference

between the Sun-Times
and the Tribune.

We were a working class paper.

And we reached the
black community.

The Tribune was a
very wealthy paper.

I mean, look at the
Tribune tower.

This huge gothic structure
studded at its base

with all the great art
works of the world.

You know, here is part
of the pyramid of Giza.

And you're thinking, what?

Did the Tribune guy go out with
a chisel and steal this thing?

Ebert: From the day
the Chicago Tribune

made Gene Siskel
its film critic,

we were professional enemies.

For the first five years
we knew one another,

Siskel and I hardly spoke.

When Gene and I were asked to
work together on a TV show,

we both said we'd rather
do it with someone else.

Anyone else.

The name of our show is Opening
Soon at a Theatre Near You,

two film critics talking
about the movies.

And this is Roger Ebert
from the Chicago Sun-Times.

And right over here
is Gene Siskel

from the Chicago Tribune
and Channel 2 news.

Flaum: Gene and Roger were
sitting kind of pinioned,

in director's chairs,

looking into the
camera very seriously,

talking about the movie.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's
Nest just had the audience

tearing up the seats with joy.

Yeah, and also, tearing up a
little my enjoyment of the film.

They were applauding even
during the credits...

Flaum: It was stiff, and wooden.

But when Foreman backs up and
tries to make his big points

about the establishment
and authority...

Flaum: But there was
something there.

It was interesting
to hear two people

who knew what they were talking
about, talk about a movie.

Bremen Freedom by Rainer
Werner Fassbinder,

one of the new generation
of West German directors...

Flaum: Roger loved the idea of
being on public television.

He had been on it before

on a show where he introduced
films by Ingmar Bergman.

It was awful.

And in this movie
his name is Spegel,

which is Swedish for "mirror."

Flaum: It was a deer
caught in the headlights.

What is real and
what is illusion,

and who's being
fooled by the art?

Is it the artist, or
his audience, or both?

And the movie's ending,
a confrontation

with the heavyweight
champion of the world...

Flaum: Roger needed to learn
how to write for television.

Emotionally fulfilling scenes
I've seen in a long time.

Flaum: To keep sentences short.

Flaum: He would get
irritated and he would say,

"Thea, I have a Pulitzer Prize."

And I would say to him,
"Roger, I know that,

but that doesn't mean you know
how to write for television."

And right through that last scene
I was really loving Taxi Driver,

because up until that point,
the relationship between

De Niro and Cybill Shepherd
has been electric...

Flaum: Gene was a natural.

He was one of these people,
he could talk to the camera.

Woman: He had a huge
handlebar mustache.

And so I just said,

"That is a funny looking thing
on your face, get rid of it."

Kogan: I thought, these two guys

would never be on television.

These are unusual,
odd-looking characters

for the medium, TV, that's
all beautifully quaffed,

and beautiful teeth,
and everything's fine.

And they dressed like
a couple of clowns

if they wore these
outfits today.

You couldn't make Siskel and Ebert
if you were Dr. Frankenstein.

Iglitzen: I think in the
beginning it was very difficult.

Gene sat in the back row,
Roger had his favorite seat.

They left without saying
a word to one another.

Ebert: We both
thought of ourselves

as full service,
one-stop film critics.

We didn't see why the
other one was necessary.

Alone together in an elevator,

we would study the numbers
changing above the door.

Their lifestyles couldn't
have been more different.

Roger was single.

He was an only child.

Gene, in childhood,
lost both his parents,

one after the other.

He was a philosophy
major at Yale.

While Roger was, you know,

one of the good old
boy news reporters.

Gene just was more of a...

for lack of a better
word, elegant character.

He caught the eye
of Hugh Hefner,

and he was adopted by the
clan at the mansion.

And he traveled with
Hefner in the Bunny Jet.

Even though Roger wrote Beyond
the Valley of the Dolls,

I think Gene lived the
life for a while.

Man: The perfect matching of
opposites, Siskel and Ebert,

Laurel and Hardy,
Oscar and Felix,

really made Sneak Previews

a sitcom about two guys who
lived in a movie theater.

And how Roger and I go to the
movies as critics is the subject

of this special take two
program on Sneak Previews.

- Hi, Gene.
- Siskel: Hi, Roger.

In every theater I have a
favorite seat I like to sit in.

In the last row, sort
of off to the side.

Not just kind of reading
or speaking criticism,

but acting out these roles.

I always choose a seat
that's twice as far back

from the screen as
the screen is wide.

Then you must make a
friend of horror.

Horror and moral terror.

Ebert: I think we can save
ourselves a lot of time

if I admit to you right now

that although I think the
last half hour works,

I doubt if I can ever
convince you of that,

and that the first two
hours of the film

consist of some of the most
beautiful, heartbreaking, tragic,

memorable footage of war
that I've ever seen.

I think that you can show almost
anything to do with Vietnam,

and people feel, "Oh, my
God, the human waste."

That may be true, but
this movie is made

on such an epic scale.

And because they
could get agitated,

that raised the temperature of
the movies they were discussing.

Tremendously boring,

boring from the
beginning of the movie.

- I just wanna compare this film...
- Oh, no. Wait a minute.

- Now he's not boring at all.
- Oh, yes. Fabulously boring.

- He is fabulously boring?
- I would pass...

Scott: There was something almost
transgressive and exciting

about seeing on TV somebody
say about a movie,

you know what you might always
want to say to your friend,

or your girlfriend or your
mother or your sister,

"No, you're wrong. It's
not a good movie."

That's the way people
do relate to films,

is in that argumentative
sort of way,

in which if you're right nobody
can tell you that you're wrong.

I sit at the desk next to our
music critic at the Sun-Times.

People are very
worshipful of him.

"Oh, what did you think about
Shulty's conducting last night?"

And then he will say, and they
will nod like this and go away.

And then they'll turn around
and come up to me and say,

"I totally disagree with your
review in this morning's paper."

Flaum: The success of the
show was undeniable,

except we were not on
in two major markets:

New York and Los Angeles.

Here I am at the
little popcorn shop

a half a block from the screening
room where I see all the movies.

This is the Chicago
Theater on State Street.

Flaum: Their position was, if
there's gonna be a movie show,

it's not gonna be two
guys from Chicago.

We're gonna have New York
critics, or we're Hollywood.

Who are these guys, right?

This is not Andrew Sarris,
and Pauline Kael.

And it's also not the kind
of, the wised up players

who might be in Los Angeles.

What do these people have
to tell us about movies?

Ebert: The arrival of Pauline Kael
on the scene shook everything up.

The New Yorker recognized that

maybe this was the time for a
new kind of movie criticism.

Ebert: Suddenly movie critics
become new players in the game.

You weren't crazy about
Prince of the City.

No. Prince of the City.

I thought, it really, as
a piece of narrative,

it's almost a case
study in confusion.

Ebert: Kael's influence shaped
how critics looked at movies...

and how people read them.

Corliss: Film was taken seriously
and so were film critics.

Andrew Sarris was promoting

the idea of the director
as the maker of the film,

and Pauline Kael,
elevating film writing,

film criticism as an art.

But these were towering
figures, clashing.

Rather like Siskel and Ebert,

but with more intellectual heft.

Uh-oh, Gene. This
bowser in the balcony

means it's time for
Dog Of The Week.

A regular feature where each of
us picks the week's worst movie.

Well, Roger, you and Spot
may not believe this,

but I have just seen my
first nudie karate film.

- You're kidding.
- No.

Roger once said, "Do
you think Pauline Kael

would be working with a dog?"

I don't know Pauline Kael,
I never knew Pauline Kael.

But fuck Pauline Kael.

Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel

were the most powerful
critics of all time.

In any realm.

Finally, they had to cave in

and run the show in
New York and L.A.

It was a victory we relished,
I have to tell you.

Here to help us sort the
blockbusters from the bombs

are the team At the Movies,
Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert.

You guys live in Chicago still,
down there in Oprah-land?

What I'd like to do is
come to Chicago one night

and we'll just go nuts. We'll
just get stinking drunk.

We'll go out and eat
steaks all night.

My next two guests are
regarded as the most popular

and most important film
critics in the country.

They are the two most influential
movie critics in the country.

Is there anybody more popular?
We'll find out and ask them.

Flaum: And ultimately,

I think they were on
the Johnny Carson Show

more than just about anybody.

Is there something out there
that is really so bad?

Roger?

I can't really recommend
Three Amigos.

It's the Christmas picture
I like the least.

- This is the happy hour.
- Yes.

I don't think I'd ask you if I
knew you were gonna say that.

Chevy Chase has made a
lot of good movies,

and God willing, he will make a lot
more good movies in the future.

- With your help.
- Yes, well, I...

Yes, with your help.

There is a tendency
for somebody...

who is naturally funny,

as Chevy is, to
try to get laughs

by standing there and ad-libbing

when somebody else
is trying to talk.

Carson: That's right.

Flaum: The movie studios
went from helping us...

to hating us, to fearing us.

The circulations of all
of the newspaper critics,

and all of the magazines,
could not match

the reach of the
show at its height.

It became quite clear very often

that the film companies cared a lot
about Roger and Gene seeing it,

but not so much about
the rest of us.

Corliss: Two thumbs up became
everything for a Hollywood movie.

Back when moviemakers
still thought

critics' enthusiasm
could sell a movie.

In 1991, Richard
Corliss published

a piece in Film Comment
about how the show

was ruining and vulgarizing
film criticism.

Corliss: "Will anyone
read this story?

It has too many words and
not enough pictures.

Does anyone read this magazine?

Every article in it wants to
be a meal, not a McNugget.

Is anyone reading
film criticism?

It lacks punch, the
clips, the thumbs.

I simply don't want people to think
that what they have to do on TV

is what I am supposed
to do in print.

I don't want junk food to be the
only cuisine at the banquet."

Yeah, etcetera.

Uh... I really did
sound angry there,

but it seemed to me that
the Siskel-Ebert effect

was that a film was
either good or bad

and the rest didn't
matter so much.

Ebert: I am the first
to agree with Corliss

that the Siskel
and Ebert program

is not in depth film criticism.

As indeed, how could it be,
given our time constraints.

But we would have to do
it for our own amusement

because nobody would
play it on television.

The program's purpose
is to provide

exactly what Corliss
says it provides:

information on what's new
at the movies, who's in it,

and whether the critic
thinks it's any good or not.

Rosenbaum: If you're talking about
film criticism in a serious way,

consumer advice is not the
same thing as criticism.

To assume that something
is good for everybody,

or bad for everybody is
insulting to everybody.

Siskel: The subject of Crash
left me feeling empty.

Crash has some beautiful
bodies on view,

but also some ugly ideas.

The car crash is a fertilizing
rather than a destructive event.

Ebert: When we have an
opinion about a movie,

that opinion may light
a bulb over the head

of an ambitious youth
who then understands

that people can make up their
own minds about the movies.

I think I liked the movie
a lot more than you did.

I'd like to make it clear
that most people are probably

going to hate it, be repelled
by it or walk out of it,

just as they did at the
Cannes Film Festival.

- Why is that?
- Because it's too tough to take.

Flaum: The reason Roger
loved being on television

is that at his heart,

he really is a populist.

Roger believes that everybody
ought to be able to get a movie.

I think they were
conscientious about trying to

do what they were doing
as well as they could,

and as seriously as they could.

But invariably, a show
like Gene and Roger's show

becomes a part of that
mainstream system.

Male announcer: This week,
Siskel and Ebert review

Arnold Schwarzenegger
in Last Action Hero.

Rosenbaum: And by and large, the
purpose of mainstream reviewing

is not just to valorize films

that get multi-million
dollar ad campaigns.

Jurassic Park.

But to eliminate
everything else.

I think what Gene and Roger
did was the opposite of that.

Roger went out and he looked
for people like Michael Moore.

He looked for people like me.

Nava: As a film critic,
he was somebody

who gave life to new voices,
gave life to new visions,

that reflected all the
diversity of this nation.

Different classes,
points of view,

he wanted it all out there.

Man: My assurance
to the pet owner

that they will be
reunited with their pet.

Man: My first film,
Gates of Heaven.

There was a newspaper strike.

And so the movie wasn't reviewed

by any of the New York
newspapers, which is a disaster.

I miss that little
black kitten so much.

Morris: I just thought, that's it,
the movie's just going to vanish.

Both of them wanted
to review it.

I was troubled because
the number of theaters

in which it was playing
was extremely small,

and here you have a
show that's being shown

on 300 some-odd public television
stations around the country.

How are people gonna
get to see it?

Let's move on to a movie now

that I think is one of the most
brilliant, weird, and unusual

American documentary films
I've seen in a long time.

Morris: And then
really out of nowhere,

those guys started
reviewing Gates of Heaven.

Well, I agree with you completely.
I think it's a superb film.

Morris: Then they found an
excuse to review it again.

There are films that we
call "Buried Treasures."

Morris: And a third time.

I don't think anyone who's seen
this film can ever forget it.

I believe that I would not

really have a career
if not for those guys.

Man: I made my first film.
I kind of made it alone.

I didn't know anyone
in the industry.

I don't even know how
I got Roger's email,

but I emailed, assuming
no one would answer.

And he answered. And he said, "If
your film gets into Sundance,"

tell me and I would
watch it there."

So then later, the film
did go to Sundance,

and I emailed him
again, and he said,

"Yes, I'll come to see it." I
said, "Here are the three times."

He didn't come to the
first screening,

he didn't come to the
second screening,

and the last screening was
a Sunday morning, I think,

8:00 a.m., on the last
day of the festival.

I said he's probably
not even here.

In fact, he was one of
the first people there.

And I was there with
my actor, and he said,

"Do you mind if I
take some pictures

with you and your actor, just
in case I like the film?

If I don't like it, don't
worry, I'll never use them."

I was, I think, I was maybe
eight or nine or something,

and my Aunt Denise, who
was a massive film geek,

who passed her film
geekdom onto me,

found out about these
rehearsals for the Oscars,

and one day he walked through.

And I remember saying, "Thumbs up!
Thumbs up!"

screaming, screaming,
and he came over.

I grew up.

I made this film when
I was 34 years old.

It was the first
film I ever made.

You're second generation.

Joshua Tree generation.

DuVernay: The film
was about my aunt,

my aunt who took me to
the Oscar's that day.

Nothing wrong with that.

DuVernay: And about losing
someone that you love.

And it was Ebert's review
that really got to the heart

of what I was trying
to articulate.

And just touched me so much,

that I sent him the
picture from the Oscar's.

DuVernay: His reply was, "We
were both younger then."

The next day, a
blog post turned up

where he wrote,

in a very heartfelt
way, about his own aunt

who kind of gave him the gift
of art and film as well.

You know, I broke down
crying, and it was a mess.

It's dangerous as a black woman to
give something that you've made

from your point of view,

very steeped in your
identity and your personhood

to a white man whose gaze is
usually the exact opposite,

and to say, you are the carrier
of this film to the public.

You're the one that's gonna
dictate whether it has value.

And you had a lot less fears
around that with Roger.

Because you knew it was someone
who was gonna take it seriously,

gonna come with some
historical context,

some cultural nuance.

I mean, everybody knows
Roger had a black wife.

You know what I mean? You know.

He's like an honorary brother.

I mean, you live with a sister.

That's a whole different
understanding of black women, right?

So maybe you watch
my film differently.

Every time I see him, I'll walk
away with something new, you know.

And every time I sit down at
the table to do the work,

I think about him,

because what if something happens
and I don't get to see him again.

It was just a few days
before Christmas.

I said, "Well, Chaz,
can I come there?"

Chaz: So... Woman:
Merry Christmas.

Chaz: Come on over and say hi.

How are you? Good to see you.

What are you doing in here?

Chaz is missing you at
home, you gotta get out.

Oh, I like the glasses.
Get off the road...

Bahrani: It was nice to see him
interacting with his grandkids.

Girl: Grandpa Roger,
do you think...

Bahrani: I know that he
must be in pain physically,

but he ends up being the
happiest guy around.

- From the Christmas stocking.
- Chaz: From Santa.

Girl: From Santa.

Girl: I just remember
being so young,

and watching for the first
time so many movies

and him sort of explaining
to me, you know,

what's important about this one,
or this is a really great movie.

Ebert: Ever heard of this film?

This movie begins
with seven children

who are seven, and
check in on them

every seven years
of their lives.

Are they 56 now? Really?

Oh, my gosh, wow.

All the great conversations
and things that he taught me

about movies and life
and family and books,

and you know, all
this stuff, I just...

Those experiences
mean a lot to me.

Chaz: There's another chocolate
bar, chocolate bars.

So I spoke to Werner, I said
I was coming to see you,

and he sends his regards,

and he says you have
to keep writing

because he's very
worried about cinema.

Chaz: Can you say it the
way Werner would say it?

Bahrani: Oh, gosh. No.

- Roger...
- Roger you must get better.

You must soldier on, Roger.

Really bad shape.

Man: He's the soldier of cinema.

He's a wounded comrade

who cannot even speak
anymore, and he plows on,

and that touches my
heart very deeply.

I never dedicate
films to anyone.

I dedicated a film to him
where I ventured out

to the last corner
of this planet...

to Antarctica,

to the ice.

And from there I bow my
head in his direction.

He reinforces my courage.

Bahrani: One time, I
went to see Roger.

He was kind of eager and
bouncing to give me something.

He gave me this letter,
actually from Laura Dern.

"Dear Roger, I want you to know

that your generosity
and expertise

at the Sundance Tribute
meant the world to me.

I've tried to come up with an
appropriate way to thank you.

This box and its contents,
a jigsaw puzzle,

I have treasured for some time.

It was given to me by
the Strasberg family

when Lee Strasberg passed away.

It was Marilyn Monroe's,
who collected puzzles,

and it had been given to
her by Alfred Hitchcock.

That night at Sundance
you inspired me

about film and contribution
and I wanted to pass along

film and connection in some way.
Thank you again.

Love to you and Chaz. Laura."

And then Roger gave me this
gift, which I refused.

I said, "You cannot
give me this gift.

I cannot accept this gift."

And then he said, "You're
going to accept the gift,

because you have to
one day give this

to somebody else
who deserves it."

What's it a jigsaw puzzle of?

I've always been
terrified to make it.

I mean, this is
the jigsaw puzzle

that Alfred Hitchcock
gave Marilyn Monroe.

♪

Ebert: In the autumn of 1967,

I saw a movie named
I Call First,

later to be retitled, Who's
That Knocking at My Door.

The energy of the
cutting grabbed me.

It was the work of a
natural director.

I wrote a review
suggesting in 10 years

he would become the
American Fellini.

I said, "You think it's gonna take
that long?", and I was serious.

I'm just like, it's over here.
What are you talking about?

It was the first real
strong encouragement.

Yes, there are defects
in the movie.

But he saw something special
and that had to be nourished.

As you know, I carried
your review around with me

when I was in Europe in 1968.
It made me...

I kept reading. Is that really about me?
You know, wow.

Ebert: So refreshing to find
a director and an actor

working right at the
top of their form.

I think Raging Bull is one of the
great American pictures of the year.

James: His greatest film is
an act of self-redemption.

In the period before it, he'd
become addicted to cocaine

and told me that after an
overdose, he was pronounced dead

in an emergency room
and resuscitated.

During the '80s was extremely...
I was gone, basically.

Broke, and I'd gone through
some bad, bad periods.

My third marriage had broken up,

and I was basically alone.

The only thing that saved me

or made me want to...

continue just like living, in
a way, was my agent called

and said, "You know, there's
this festival up in Toronto."

I said, "Yeah."

"Roger Ebert, Gene Siskel,

they wanna give you
this tribute."

I was kind of scared.

Could I walk down
this theater aisle

and go up on a stage,
knowing who I am?

But I knew that they
believed in me,

and I have that in my house now,

in a special place where
only I can see it,

that I pass by every maybe,
five to six minutes, I see it.

But that night changed it.

And I started my life
again, you know.

It was...

I didn't feel
inhibited with Roger.

He was that close.

Scott: Roger has, unlike just
about any of the rest of us,

arrived at this
point where he is

kind of the peer of the people,

of some of the people
that he writes about.

It's very complicated,
I think, when you have

personal relationships and
friendships with these people,

because it cannot but
cloud your judgment.

I am infinitely corruptible.

I do not want to get to know
these people as people.

I want to think of them
as fictional characters.

I mean, my obligation
is to write

what I think about a movie,

and not to worry
about someone I know

perching on my shoulder saying,
"No, I wouldn't say that."

When you look at the
nineteenth century

and the great critics in music,

they hung together,
critics and artists.

They were in the same circles.

And that helped the critics
and it helped the composers.

Roger brought back that concept
and he was criticized for it.

That was real distracting
for me there,

the way all those pool balls
bounced around like that,

and the scene gets even
worse as it goes on.

And it's all the
more disappointing

because The Color of Money was
directed by Martin Scorsese,

who is one of the two or three
best movie directors around today.

Devastating.

It doesn't have the interior
energy, and the drive,

and the obsession of most
of the best Scorsese films.

- The script isn't good.
- It's just a standard,

sort of predictable narrative.

I said, I know, but beautiful...
Michael Ballhouse, Paul Newman.

But you know, they
wouldn't accept it.

That was a way of
condemning and helping.

In other words, you've
done this now, once,

you may have done it
twice, but watch yourself.

As opposed to toxic,
poisonous, unkind,

ungenerous, lack of
charity, on so many others.

I think he was a tougher
critic when he was younger.

He could be really
cutting, and relentless,

and ruthless, and sarcastic.

You motherfucker!

Not a bad movie, but
it's not original,

- and it's not a masterpiece.
- I think it's very original

and very close to
being a masterpiece.

I have never felt a kill in
a movie quite like that.

Not in Apocalypse Now,
not in The Deer Hunter?

No, not like that.
Not like that.

In that case, you're
gonna love the late show

because they have kills
like that every night

in black and white
starring John Wayne.

LaPietra: They would get
into their cross talk.

The camera would stop,
they would still be at it.

And I disagree particularly
about the part that you like.

They truly felt
it in their soul.

They could still show them
the error of their ways,

the folly of their thinking.

Benji the Hunted exhausted me.

This is the first time
I wanted to tell a dog

to slow down and stop
to smell the flowers.

I don't know, Gene. Your
review is the typical sort of

blasé, sophisticated,
cynical review...

I'll take the word
"sophisticated."

I would expect from an adult.

You're wrapping yourself
in the flag of children.

You're wrapping yourself in the flag
of the sophisticated film critic.

- No, boredom.
- You've seen it all.

Boredom with Benji running.

I don't think that any child is
gonna be bored by this movie.

Scott: It was not you know,
gentlemanly, it was not,

"Well, I see you
have a good point."

It was I'm gonna crush you.

And this is the show where
you give Benji The Hunted

a positive review and
not Kubrick's film?

Now, Gene, that's
totally unfair,

because you realize that
these reviews are relative.

Benji the Hunted is not
one-tenth the film...

- Roger... that the
Kubrick film is

but you know that you review
films within context.

And you know it, and you
should be ashamed of yourself.

- No, I'm not.
- Now let's take another look...

They almost didn't care what anyone
else thought about anything,

as long as they could try
to persuade the other.

And I'm not talking about
just, about movie reviews.

I'm talking about
anything in life,

the tie you're wearing, what
you think of that person,

a book, a restaurant.

When there was, and when
wasn't there disagreement,

the coin of the realm
was the quarter.

It's hard to think of anything

that wasn't decided
by a coin toss.

Were we going to get tuna
fish sandwiches for lunch?

Who would get one movie, who
would get another movie.

Who got to sit next to
Johnny Carson on the couch.

Flaum: They actually wanted us

to change the opening
of the show every week

so that Roger would
be first one week

and Gene would be first the
next week, and we said no.

Woman: Why is the show
Siskel and Ebert?

And by the way will it
ever be Ebert and Siskel?

No.

Woman: You've signed
on to Siskel and...

There's a long story about that.

A long story. You
know, I'm older,

I've been a movie critic longer,

E comes before S
in the alphabet,

I've got the Pulitzer Prize,

and yet it's called
Siskel and Ebert.

And if you wanna know why
that is, you can ask Siskel.

A flip of the coin.

Kogan: Gene Siskel was among
the most competitive people

on the face of this planet.

But Roger always could
lord it over Gene

that he had a Pulitzer Prize.

Roger was a bit
of a braggadocio.

He was a great raconteur.

But frankly, he was
full of himself.

Nack: Roger was a bit
of a control freak.

He could not direct Gene Siskel.

He was a rogue planet in
Roger's solar system.

Gene was a source of
madness in Roger's life.

Roger is an only child.

He was used to getting his way.
Absolutely.

And he could be a real big baby

when he didn't get
what he wanted.

Gene, on the other hand,
would just go in there

and pummel you until
you agree with him,

until you just say,
"All right, Gene!

Okay, you're right. Got it."

It wasn't a game with him.

He saw something, he
wanted it to happen.

He made it happen.

LaPietra: Gene was very good

at reading Roger's
date book upside down.

As soon as he saw L.A.
and the date,

he knew what films
were coming out.

He knew what big star

that Roger would be
going out to interview.

And that's all it took
for him to make sure

that he got the interview
before Roger got it.

Fumes you could almost see coming
out of Roger's head, you know.

Gene had done him in again,
that wascally wabbit.

McHugh: Roger, who
was the picture

of equanimity for
most of his life,

did all of a sudden, produce a
petulance that I hadn't seen before.

I thought this movie was awful.

- Oh, no, Roger.
- Dreadful, terrible,

stupid, idiotic...

- No, no. Unfunny, labored...

forced, painful, bad.
- Oh, Roger, Roger.

What happened to
your sense of humor?

I don't think Roger was,
by nature, a fighter.

But it's like, if
you have a brother

who likes to fight all the time,
so then you learn how to fight.

McHugh: And Gene had his number.

Gene knew the buttons to
push and everything else.

Iglitzen: They're in
a first class cabin,

Gene's in one of the front rows.

Roger's behind him,
and Gene hears

the same old stories that he's
heard over and over again.

And he's just annoyed.

He writes a little note

and he gives it to the
flight attendant.

Said, "Would you pass this to Mr.
Ebert?"

So Roger gets the note, and
it says, "Dear Mr. Ebert,

we in the cockpit have noticed
that you are on our flight.

Frankly, we both agree more
with you than your partner,

and we would be so honored
if you would join us

in the cockpit for a
bit of the flight."

I mean, Gene knows that
Roger was really excited.

He gets into the aisle, and
Roger was a big guy then,

he just kind of bounds
down the aisle,

and gets ready to knock
on the door of the cabin.

And you know, the
flight attendants

and people are horrified,
and Gene says,

"Dear Mr. Ebert, we
in the cockpit."

Gotcha.

And he finally tells Gene Siskel,
you know, "You just hate me.

You just don't like
me," you know.

I mean, that relationship
was absolutely radioactive.

Two thrillers this week
on Siskel and Ebert.

First, we'll review Michael
Caine and Pierce Brosnan

- in The Fourth Protocol.
- And then, Gene Hackman

and Kevin Costner
star in No Way Out,

and we have a third thriller,
too if you're interested.

What do you mean, two thrillers?

How about something like
this: It's thriller week

on Siskel and Ebert and
we've got three big ones.

Okay. Ready?

- I guess you're gonna do it.
- We have to rewrite it, don't we?

- No. Let's...
- You can't ad lib, Gene.

Can we for the last week,
and next week we'll do it?

No, every week counts.

You read it then, you ad-lib it.

I'll do nothing. Let him
do whatever he wants.

It's thriller week on Siskel
and Ebert and the Movies,

and we've got three new ones.

Gotta have energy up
and the movie's out.

- Why don't you read both parts?
- I'd like to.

- I know that.
- Please get your energy up.

It's thriller week on Siskel
and Ebert and the Movies,

and we've got three new ones.

Dennis Quaid in The Big Easy,

Michael Caine in The
Fourth Protocol,

and Kevin Costner and Gene
Hackman in No Way Out.

- Sound a little excited, Gene.
- Sound less excited, Roger.

That's why we're re-doing
it because of what you did.

It's thriller week on Siskel
and Ebert At The Movies.

And we've got three new ones...

It's called And The Movies,
not At The Movies.

And that's why we're
re-doing it this time.

It's thriller week on Siskel
and Ebert and the Movies.

And we've got three new ones.

Dennis Quaid in The Big Easy,

Michael Caine in The
Fourth Protocol,

and Kevin Costner and Gene
Hackman in No Way Out.

That's this week on
Siskel, and Ebert,

And the Movies, and the asshole.

Man: Great.

They were still,
in their hearts,

little boys fighting it
out on the playground

and both of them
expecting to win.

Ebert: I've been in here a
little more than a month.

Can we stand?

Ebert: I came in expecting
to repair my walking ability

after the hairline fracture,
but have discovered

that it wasn't that simple.

Two, three, push up.

Bigger step with
that right foot.

Bigger step, Roger.

Ebert: I can no longer take
good health for granted.

I hate that.

Big step.

Woman: Pardon? Chaz:
He's saying no.

Woman: Are you okay?

Do you want me to stop? Okay.

Chaz: That was good.
Woman: That was good.

That was good. That was good.

Relax.

Chaz: I never thought he'd
have to be here again.

He's at the best place...

but it's just overwhelming

to think that he's
been here five times.

Chaz: If he gave up, then
it would be very difficult.

Chaz: Do you want your
speakers plugged in?

You know what, let her
suction you first.

Please, Roger.

Can you let the nurse
do that first?

Roger, can we set this up after?

Roger.

♪

He loves his music.

Woman: Ready?

Woman: Sounds good.

Chaz: Sometimes, I
just stare at him

and say where did this
determination come from?

Roger had an inner core
that was made of steel.

James: How have you
kept your spirits up?

Ebert: I've zeroed
in on my work.

When I'm seeing a movie,
or writing the review,

that makes me feel good.

You know how they talk
about being in the zone?

When you're doing
something you're good at,

you get in the zone.

It sort of pushes your troubles
to the back of your mind.

Corliss: You have this
tremendous body of work.

He's been writing for half of
the history of feature films.

And that's just one
slice of the cake.

A novel in weekly installments.

Just like Dickens. Not
quite of that level.

He wrote a book about how to
keep your computer bug-free.

Strolls through London.

A book about the
Cannes Film Festival.

Ebert: The Cannes Film Festival
is one of those events

like the Super Bowl, Wimbledon,
or the Kentucky Derby

that comes cloaked
in its own legend.

This is Cannes on
the French Riviera,

a fishing village
since Roman times.

And every year in
the month of May,

the population grows
by forty thousand

for the world's most
famous film festival.

It's been called the
world's biggest party.

The town of Cannes is
bursting to the seams

with directors,
producers, and stars.

Hi.

Ebert: It wouldn't be a
Cannes Film Festival

without a beautiful blonde here on
the terrace of the Carlton Hotel.

De Los Santos-Reza: Here was
this kid from Southern Illinois

hobnobbing with all of the
international movie stars.

Ebert: That's me
with Robert De Niro.

Yes, your faithful correspondent

is getting an
exclusive interview.

And De Niro was telling me
he's just happy to be here.

De Los Santos-Reza: He loved that.
He did, and they loved him.

Roger! Roger Ebert!

Ebert: I always wake up very early
in the morning after I arrive.

I walk down the Rue Félix Faure,
passing the flower sellers,

the fishmongers
unloading iced oysters,

and at particular cafe,
at a particular table,

I order, in shameful French,

a cafe au lait, a
Perrier, and a croissant.

Such returns are an
important ritual to me.

He stayed at the same frickin'
little hotel in Cannes,

the Splendid, which is a dump.
But he loved it.

Man: I'd go over and see
him at the Splendid,

and he'd say, "Tomorrow,
be here at ten."

And so we go over to the Swedish
Film Institute's hotel suite,

and there's Erland Josephson
the actor lying on the bed,

and he and I talk about
Ingmar Bergman for an hour.

You know, no interview,
no formality.

Just yacking.

Ebert: If I am lucky,

something extraordinary will
happen to me during this festival.

I will see a film that will make my
spine tingle with its greatness.

And I will leave the
theatre speechless.

Ebert: It was at Cannes
that I saw Bresson's

precise, unforgiving L'Argent.

Man: L'Argent.

Ebert: A film that was

so cold on its surface,

that I finally realized
that no man could make

such distant and austere films

There are Dantean levels
to this festival.

At the top level is the
official selection,

films chosen from
all over the world.

But down, down, down, down here

in the basement of the Palais,
this is the movie supermarket.

This is where they sell
porno and exploitation

and horror and
action and violence.

Ebert: You take out ads in Variety
saying we will buy movies

- sight unseen.
- Right.

- Last year, 350 movies.
- Ebert: How do you sell them?

By the title, by the
foot, by the inch?

By the pound.

Most of us were
writing our stories

after the festival was over.

Roger, anticipating
the Internet,

or recalling daily journalism,

was filing stories all
through the festival.

For best film, Kagemusha, which
is the Akira Kurosawa film.

Ebert: While photographers
are trying to get

pictures of stars
at the festival,

would-be stars and hopefuls are
trying to get their pictures

taken by photographers.

Ebert: In the dreams
of the starlet,

there's always that scene where
the cigar-chomping producer

spots a lovely young woman
on the Carlton terrace

and shouts, "Who is that girl?

I must have her for
my next picture."

So much of what we did was
not me as the producer

saying do this, do that,
do that, was Roger.

He had fabulous ideas.

Topless beaches,
starlets, interviews.

De Los Santos-Reza: Whenever we
were doing something on the show

that required some creativity...

I don't know why you keep...
that isn't the issue.

De Los Santos-Reza: It was Gene who
would usually win out that argument,

and Roger would say, "Well...
fine."

♪

De Los Santos-Reza: The Cannes
Film Festival was only Roger.

He loved that he didn't have
to convince someone else.

Iglitzen: Roger had
everything he needed.

Gene was just afraid
that at some point

Roger would go it
alone and quit.

LaPietra: And this
literally haunted Gene.

When the next contract
would come up,

would Roger not be there?

Flaum: Joe Antelo just sat
down and did the math.

In syndication, we can put
commercials around it.

So he offered Gene and Roger a
tremendous amount of money.

Roger didn't go out and buy
a new car or anything.

He moved out of that
garage apartment he had.

I know that I would hear them
sometimes talk about money,

like "Hey, big boy, did you
get that check in the mail?"

These guys were Siamese twins
joined at the rear end.

And they were gonna
make this thing work.

Iglitzen: Gene would say,
and this is as they became

more and more of a team,

"He's an asshole.

But he's my asshole."

This week on Siskel and
Ebert and the Movies,

the science fiction
adventure, Robocop.

Man: Why don't we do that again?

Did you know that for Gene,
speech is a second language?

Roger's first language is,

"Yes, I'll have apple
pie with my order."

He asks the McDonald's girl

if he can have apple
pie with the order,

before they ask him.

And you know what Gene says
when he goes into McDonald's?

Can I have a apple with thei...
with their order?

Man: Okay, ready?

You know they don't get enough
shit basically raw. They don't.

They don't. They're
called yuppies now.

They run the goddamn country,
and all of us, all of our...

I'm speaking to everyone who's
eavesdropping right now.

Come on, band together, people,
let's overthrow the country.

Protestants, people who
sort of want a religion.

- Let's stick together.
- I know...

The Catholics and
the fucking Jews,

we go back a few years together.

Come on, we're real.

We're real. We get
down and get dirty.

- I'll take it.
- We were burning each other

when Martin Luther was only a
gleam in his mother's eye.

I'll take a Bap...
I'll take a Baptist.

I go back 6,000 years.

I mean Ba... Somebody that
has some goddamn passion,

some blood coursing
through their veins.

- Case closed.
- Anything.

Right.

Steve Martin's new
comedy, Roxanne.

This week on Siskel and
Ebert and the Movies.

You said it a little too fast.

The greatest day for Gene
was when Roger came in

to say that he was
going to get married.

I remember Gene saying to me,

"Can you believe
this is happening?"

He's gonna have a mortgage.

He's gonna have
to buy furniture.

He's gonna have all
the same things

that we do to have to deal with.

He's gonna need the show.

He'll never leave now.

Elliot: Chaz was probably
more life-altering

for him than his TV show.

She really, really liked him

for what he was and
not who he was.

Iglitzen: She changed
his life immeasurably.

She changed his personality.

Hey, I was eight months
pregnant and Roger

grabbed the cab in front
of me in New York.

It's not that kind of guy now.

I think Gene was so happy

that Roger found his mate.

Chaz: He was 50 years old
when we got married.

He used to tell me,

"I waited just about all
my life to find you.

And I'm glad I did.

And I'm never gonna let you go."

I mean...

Chaz: Our wedding was
like a fairytale.

Gene Siskel's daughters
Kate and Kali,

they were our beautiful
little flower girls.

And Roger's idea of a wedding
was like Father of the Bride,

where the father says,

"Can't you just have the
wedding in the backyard

and put some brats
on the grill?"

People who knew me then
would be very surprised

that I would marry
a white man...

because I felt that
African-American men had gotten

such a raw deal in this society.

In college, I was the head
of the black student union.

I marched with
Martin Luther King.

I talked to my mother about it.

"Mom, what do you think
people would say,"

and she said, "Doesn't
matter, doesn't matter.

What do you say? What
does your heart say?"

Chaz and Roger, you
have come together

according to God's
wonderful plan...

Chaz: And as sophisticated
as Roger was,

he didn't know how his
family would take this.

He used to say,

"You know, maybe my
Uncle Bill, um...

or my Aunt Mary, you know,
because you're not Catholic."

I said, "Roger, come on,

if we're gonna have this
relationship, we have to be serious.

Not Catholic, or not white?"

He said, "Yeah, probably
some of that too."

After a while though,

his family accepted
me with open arms.

Nack: He was on a
lifelong quest for love.

He found romantic
love with Chaz.

Hey, I'm just about
to beat up...

Nack: And he loved that family,
her kids and her grandkids.

Hey, you better not drool on me.

Nack: Oh, he fit right
in, I mean, perfectly.

Grandpa Roger. Grandpa Roger.

Oh, I forgot what
I was gonna say.

Ebert: There were no
strangers in her family.

- Howdy, cowboy!
- Ebert: I love and am loved.

Okay, try to get that pole.

Ebert: And as a member
of another race,

I have, without exception,
been accepted and embraced.

The greatest pleasure
came from annual trips

we made with our grandchildren,
Raven, Emile, and Taylor,

and their parents,
Sonya and Mark,

where we made our way
from Budapest to Prague,

Vienna, Hawai'i, Los Angeles,

London, Paris, Venice
twice, and Stockholm.

Chaz: What do you have
to say about the trip?

We are having a wonderful time,

and right now we're about
to take the garden walk,

which is a great tradition
of all of our vacations

when we go on nature walks.

Chaz: Emile announced
that, for him,

there was no such thing
as getting up too early.

And every morning, the two of us
would meet in the hotel lobby

and go out for long
walks together.

And there are some flowers.

Ebert: One morning in Budapest,
he asked me to take a photo

of two people walking ahead
of us and holding hands.

"Why?"

"Because they look happy."

Those times seem more precious

now that they're in the past.

I don't walk easily anymore.

Woman: Nice job, Roger.

Beautiful.

One more step.

Ebert: I walked everyday in
the years before my troubles,

aiming for 10,000 steps
with a pedometer.

The Caldwell Lily pond
had a special serenity.

I usually had it to myself.

I chose it as the
perfect location

to make a little film
featuring my friend Bill Nack

reciting the last page
of The Great Gatsby,

which he has recited to
me several times annually

since we first met in the 1960s.

"It's vanished trees,

the trees that had made
way for Gatsby's house,

had once pandered in whispers

to the last and greatest
of all human dreams..."

Ebert: Every time I see Bill,

I ask him to recite
for me, from memory,

the closing words of Gatsby.
And every time, he does.

"Compelled into an
aesthetic contemplation...

he neither understood
nor desired.

Face to face for the
last time in history,

with something commensurate to
his capacity for wonder..."

Ebert: We're both conscious
of the passage of time,

of its flow, slipping
through our fingers,

like a long silk scarf.

I think this was Roger's favorite
passage from all of literature.

It was really a passage
about the American Dream.

You can be anything you want.

You know, Roger went from
this small town kid in Urbana

to this huge national celebrity.

His father was an electrician.
His mother was a housewife.

But I think The Great Gatsby was
also, for Roger, about death.

Death might have
obsessed him a bit.

You know, his father
died fairly young.

I knew he adored him.

Ebert: There's an inescapable
parallel between us.

Both my father and
I have cancer.

My disease may have been started

by childhood radiation
treatments for an ear infection.

I got those because
they loved me.

In my case, recently
discovered tumors

of the spine have metastasized.

James: The doctor said
it was these tumors

that caused the hip fracture.

Roger emailed me that
sharing the news

of the cancer's return
could anger Chaz.

Chaz: We don't know.

We haven't really
fully discussed this.

It's so new that we,
we really don't know,

and I'm uncomfortable
talking about it.

Just sort of taking
it a day at a time,

like I do everything else.

James: So, what do
the doctors say?

Ebert: Six to sixteen months.

It is likely I will have
passed when the film is ready.

Chaz: We'll see.

The radiation could
do its job so well

that he's around a lot longer.

So we'll have the radiation,
and we'll hope for the best.

I mean, here he is in 2013,

and in 2006, there were
times when they said

he wouldn't be here
the next day, so...

Ebert: I have no fear of death.

We all die.

I consider my remaining days
to be like money in the bank.

When it is all gone, I
will be repossessed.

Ebert: When the pain
gets to be unbearable,

I may not be so jolly.

My senior English
teacher asked me,

"Ebert, why are you always
writing about death?"

I think it began in
Catholic grade school

where they place so much attention
on mortal sin and dying.

I found it kind of exciting.

I would have been
infuriated if I missed this

because of an accident,
or sudden death.

This is the third act and
it is an experience.

So you see, little Ebert has
always been a macabre sort.

Most people probably don't
know that about him.

Maybe that's why he's jolly,
maybe it's just like, "Okay!"

James: It makes for
a better story.

♪

Nack: "Gatsby believed
in the green light

and the orgiastic future that
year by year recedes before us.

It eluded us then, but
that's no matter...

tomorrow, tomorrow
we will run faster,

stretch out our arms farther,

and one fine morning
so we beat on.

Boats against the current,

borne back ceaselessly
into the past."

Iglitzen: On April 30th, 1998,

Gene was asked to throw out
the first ball of the season

at the White Sox game.

And he had had a
headache for some weeks.

May 8th, he was diagnosed,

terminal brain cancer.

And, um, pretty much...

you don't live more than a year.

But on April 30th, he threw
out a damn good pitch.

He didn't really want
the folks at Disney

to know how sick he was.

He was afraid that if they
heard the words "brain tumor,"

they would put in a
substitute for him,

and that would be the end.

Iglitzen: Our mothers knew,

and Gene's siblings,

and my two sisters knew.

That's it.

And Roger didn't know.

And that really wounded Roger.

I don't think it's that he
didn't trust Roger personally.

Nonetheless, when something
like that happens,

you take it personally, how else
is there to take it, you know.

Chaz: Even though he may have
been a few years older than Gene,

Gene was like the older
brother he never had.

And I was so sad for
Roger for not...

Really, for not being able
to tell his brother goodbye.

Gene didn't want to
be seen as a victim.

But more importantly,
he didn't want

to watch the effect of his
dying on his children.

And my children celebrated
many things that year,

and had a happy year,

instead of watching the clock,

which they would've done.

He wanted to do just
what he was doing.

He wanted to be with his family,

and go back to work.

Our next film is
Meet the Deedles.

And boy, is this an
annoying experience.

To the point that from now
on, for the rest of my life,

I may have a negative physical
reaction to hearing the word...

Well, it's the title
word in the film.

- Deedles?
- Oh. Roger, don't.

Chaz: Toward the end, I said,
"We should go see him."

And we were gonna go and
visit him that Monday,

but he passed away
that Saturday.

Flaum: It was a friendship
that he cherished,

and it was a horrible
pain for him.

Iglitzen: This year
on Gene's birthday,

Roger tweeted every
hour on the hour

with links to memories
high and low.

I was really touched, and
I wrote him a thank you,

and he sent me this response.

"Dear Marlene, I'm sick and old

and find myself thinking
about Gene more than ever.

My stupid ego and maybe
his, complicated the fact

that I have never met a
smarter or funnier man.

We fought like cats and dogs.

But there were times
often unobserved,

like after a long hotel
dinner we had once in Boston,

when I've never felt
closer to a man."

Iglitzen: I think their
relationship evolved.

They grew to respect each other.

And I do believe they
did love each other.

Flaum: After Gene's
funeral, Roger vowed

that he was never gonna keep
any secrets about his health.

He said, "If anything like
this ever happens to me,

I don't want to hide it,

especially from the people
who mean something to us."

I've been coming to this
conference for 35 years,

and this morning I confessed
that I am a sick person.

About two and a half
or three years ago,

I found a lump under my chin,
and I went to the doctor,

and it turned out to be
associated with thyroid cancer.

Chaz: He was in the hospital
maybe two days at the most,

ready to get out.

Went back to the show.
He's such an optimist.

And he thought, this was
probably the end of it.

We didn't know that was
just the warm up act.

Ebert: A few years later, I
went in for a routine scan

to check for any new problems.

The news was not good.

Cancer had been seen in
my right lower jawbone.

Chaz: Again he had surgery.

We were going home.

We were all packed up and ready
to go home just like today.

Ebert: Chaz and I had
a Leonard Cohen song

we both really liked
called I'm Your Man.

It's sort of long but I wanted
to play it one last time.

♪ ♪

Ebert: As it was playing,

I had a sudden
hemorrhage of an artery.

The doctors rushed me
into the operating room.

The whole thing had burst.

His neck, it just
was gushing blood.

There was about 15
doctors standing there.

They were grabbing towels, squeezing
to get the blood stopped, and...

If he hadn't been
playing that song,

we would've been out of
the hospital already.

Ebert: If that song
had been shorter

and I had left, I would be dead.

♪

Bye-bye.

"Probable. Workable."

Ebert: We are told the next surgery
will not be life threatening.

The perfect ending would be

that I regain the
ability to speak well,

eat and drink, but
I would settle

for drinking coffee and
having milkshakes.

Chaz: There were a
series of surgeries,

and his plan was to
return to the show,

to return to broadcasting.

James: It is a major surgery.

Yes, it is.

James: Is it worth it?

Excuse me.

He's very brave about
it, but I'm not.

I think it's going
to be successful

and everything's
gonna turn out fine.

Chaz: And the first day or two
he looked in the mirror...

he was very pleased
with what he saw.

But just like all the
other surgeries,

there was an infection and
they had to undo everything.

That left him more
debilitated than ever,

and he just decided
no more surgeries.

No more.

Roger's not one to
look back and say,

"Oh, coulda, woulda, shoulda."

But there were times when
he wrote a note that said,

"Kill me."

I mean, I have that note.

"Kill me."

And I said, "No. No."

I told him that was
not an option.

Woman: Oh, you want to walk
until there, or you wanna?

Okay.

But you know, getting over
there, over that bump...

Okay, who's gonna help him
stand to go up to the stairs?

I know he wants to
write instructions.

Do you want the walker?

Yes or no, do you want the walker?
No.

Okay, then let's get...

Yeah, but we have to
get up and get going.

Chaz: People would say,
"Don't you get tired?"

You have to trust us.

You have to trust that we
know what we're doing.

Chaz: Yeah, I get
tired sometimes.

"Move this chair so
it faces stairs."

You know, no, no, guess
what, it's a few steps.

You can get out of the chair and
you can walk up the stairs.

That's what you've been
practicing every day.

You can do this.

Chaz: But I never got so tired

that I wanted to give up.

Come on, Uncle Roger.

Chaz: No, he's not gonna do that.
Let me handle it, please.

I'm gonna pull the
chair out of the way.

Chaz: There's so many
people out there

taking care of people who
are sick or disabled.

We all go through the
whole gamut of emotions.

Two, three, up...

Okay, now hold.

Flaum: You know, it's
been a long road.

- I think it's hard.
- All right.

It's always been hard, but
it's even harder now.

He calls her "my angel."
And he means it.

Chaz: Valentine's Day
wreath I got for you.

Ebert: This woman
never lost her love.

Now do you want to go upstairs?

Ebert: She was always there
believing I could do it.

And her love was like a wind
pushing me back from the grave.

Chaz: And I told him
if you promise me

that you will give it your all,

I promise you that I
will try to make life

as interesting for
you as possible...

Chaz: so that every day,

you have something
to look forward to.

How does it feel to be
back in your own chair?

Okay.

Today is a big day,

coming home after two
months is very difficult.

It's a joy,

but it's also very stressful.

"Especially for you."

Is that... Are you trying
to be a smart alec?

Are you trying to
be a smart alec?

Nava: We have a saying
in the Latino community,

"Make your heart your face."

Chaz: Oh, now. Aw, okay.

Nava: More than anybody
I have ever known,

his heart is his face.

That photograph that was on the
cover of Esquire says it all.

This is me. Right?

And I want you to know

who I am and what
I'm going through.

Ebert: I may have things
to be depressed about,

but I am not depressed.

My life seems full again.

Man: Here we are full screen.

As we start to bring
the screen size down,

eventually getting
towards iPhone size,

it's gonna drop,
it's gonna break.

And now, look at this...

Ebert: My attention is
focused on my new website,

which will provide a
home for my life's work

and has an enduring
life of its own.

"Josh, this is beyond
my wildest dreams."

Well, I'm glad. I like
to make you happy.

Josh: Roger has been
ahead of the curve,

becoming an early and massive
adopter of social media.

He has almost 800,000
followers on Twitter

and 100,000 followers
on Facebook.

"Nice links to IMDB
and Wikipedia."

Golden: If you look at the
other people who have

like 850,000 Twitter followers,
it's like Kardashians.

Golden: Beyond the
search widget...

Rosenbaum: Right now, there's
an argument about the Internet.

Some people say film
criticism is at the end,

the art of cinema is at the end.

Roger sees it in a much
more positive way.

It's a renaissance.

It's a renaissance in film
appreciation and film criticism.

The roving reporters
that he uses,

like on his blog, for example,

is giving a critical birth to
lots of other points of view.

The passionate fan culture,
or movie geek culture,

that exists on the Internet,
when people are really,

get really, really worked up,

is something that the Siskel
and Ebert show helped to seed.

It follows from Roger's
understanding of criticism,

which is it's a mode
of conversation.

It's the public square.

Golden: This is allowing
your fans to access

this database of your
reviews going back to 1967

that has never been available
in this form before.

Ebert: When I am writing, I am
the same person I always was.

In April 2008, I wrote
my first blog entry,

and began this current, and
probably final stage of my life.

My blog became my
voice, my outlet,

my social media in a way I
couldn't have dreamed of.

Into it, I poured my regrets,
desires and memories.

Most people choose to write a blog.
I needed to.

Ebert: Racism was
ingrained in daily life.

It wasn't the overt
racism of the South,

but more like the
pervading background

against which we lived.
We were here...

I've never held a
handgun in my life.

The theory is that gun
ownership makes us safer.

That doesn't seem to
be working out for us.

The body count rises.

Nack: He took all of that
energy he put into television,

and he transferred
it to his blog,

and the Internet, and
to his movie reviews,

and wrote better than he
ever had in his life.

Man: Bless these boys.

I don't know when a film has
connected more immediately

with my own personal experience.

That's how you grow up.

Surrounded by the realms of
unimaginable time and space.

Corliss: We are now seeing
the polymathic genius

that those of us who
knew Roger always saw.

His voice was stilled,

but of course he's
talking more than ever.

Ebert: In the past 25
years, I have probably seen

ten thousand movies, and
reviewed six thousand of them.

- She threw them there.
- Man: I understand, but why?

Ebert: I have forgotten
most of them, I hope.

Ebert: But I remember
those worth remembering.

And they are on the
same shelf in my mind.

Look at a movie that a
lot of people love...

Match me, Sydney.

Ebert: and you'll find
something profound...

Ebert: no matter how
silly the film may seem.

♪

Sing!

Ebert: What I miss
though, is the wonder.

Open the pod bay doors, Hal.

Ebert: People my age can remember
walking into a movie palace...

Hal: I'm sorry, Dave.

Ebert: when the ceiling
was far overhead...

Hal: I'm afraid I can't do that.

Ebert: balconies reached
way into the shadows.

We remember the sound
of a thousand people

laughing all at once,

and screens the
size of billboards,

so every seat in the
house was a good seat.

"I lost it at the movies,"
Pauline Kael said,

and we all knew just
what she meant.

Man: Charles Foster Kane.

James: Only two days after
he'd returned home,

Roger was readmitted to the
hospital with pneumonia.

Chaz thought this was a brief
if frustrating setback,

and so Roger and I resumed
our email interview

with the plan to film him as
soon as he returned home again.

Roger was energetic and
answered questions

about a variety of subjects.

Ebert: My favorite places in the
city are the used bookstores.

You can't get me out of one.

Those standard places
with standard menus

and breakfast 24 hours a day.

James: I asked him about one of
his most controversial reviews

for Blue Velvet, and
his moral indignation

at director David Lynch.

But he asked Isabella
Rossellini in this movie

to be undressed and
humiliated on the screen...

Drama holds a mirror up to life,

but needn't reproduce it.

James: Attempts to film Roger in
rehab were rebuffed by doctors.

Then suddenly one day his email
output slowed to a trickle.

I'm trying to figure out what questions
would engage you most fully.

James: Fearing the worst, I called Chaz.
She dissolved into tears.

Roger seemed
determined to give up.

Chaz: He said he was beginning
to feel trapped inside.

And he said, "You know, I
don't wanna fight this time.

I don't wanna... I don't... I
don't wanna fight cancer."

He said, "I am ready to go.

I've had a beautiful life and
death is a part of life.

And I'm ready to go,

and you must let me go,
you must let me go."

He had signed a DNR,

a do not resuscitate order.

He signed it...

while I wasn't there one day.

And usually we make those
kind of decisions together.

But I think he knew...

that that wouldn't
have been my choice.

And so...

when we realized
that he was leaving

I wanted them to use
the defibrillator.

And they said no.

And short of going over

and taking it and doing
it myself, you know...

And I could've screamed

and made a fuss and
forced them to do it.

But you know what,
something came over me.

Roger calls it a wind of peace

just kind of flowed over me,

and I knew it was
time to accept it.

And accept that he was leaving.

And so...

I put on Dave Brubeck
music in the room.

And I had everyone
just settle down.

♪

I was sitting next to his bed,

holding his left hand,

and other people held my hand,

and gathered and formed a
circle around and held hands.

Until the doctor...

said that he was
going to call it,

1:40 p.m. as the time of death.

I have never seen
anything so beautiful

and so serene.

It became... It was so
peaceful in that room.

And he... everything just...

everything just relaxed.

He looked young,
he looked happy,

and those warm hands,
and, you know...

♪

Ebert: What in the world
is a Leave of Presence?

It means I am not going away.

Forty-six years ago, I
became the film critic

for the Chicago Sun-Times.

However you came to know
me, I'm glad you did,

and thank you for being
the best readers

any film critic could ask for.

Chaz: He had a heart big enough

to accept and love all.

I have to keep...
He loved this hat,

that's why I wore it today.

I felt that as long
as Roger was alive,

a little bit of Gene was too.

He was the first person I met

who actually walked out
of the television.

Simon: Famous people have
died before in Chicago.

Famous writers have died.

But what I thought marked
the stories about Roger

was a genuine affection.

I mean, thousands
of people came out

and thousands more wrote
tributes on the Internet,

which are still continuing.

Herzog: I like to walk down
on Hollywood Boulevard

because I know it's
his star coming.

I set my gaze straight,

I don't look down at the star.
I know it's coming.

Looking straight at the
horizon into the future.

Ebert: So on this
day of reflection,

I say thank you for going
on this journey with me.

I'll see you at the movies.

♪

♪

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