The first examples of art criticism I heeded growing up were Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert on Sneak Previews on PBS. “Gene Siskel, film critic from the Chicago Tribune” and “Roger Ebert, film critic from the Chicago Sun-Times” introduced one another each week sitting across the aisle in a movie theater balcony set. Rediscovering their reviews has been a comfort in these bunkered times.
It was thrilling to watch grown-up programs on Oregon Public Broadcasting “No commercials? Yay!” having graduated from Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, Zoom, on and on. Miraculously, my parents also let me watch I, Claudius, the sensational BBC/PBS mini-series on Masterpiece Theater. That experience amplified my interest in classical history (at least the violence, sex, and political parts) and provided the namesake for one of my children (no, not named Claudius). In the era of three major channels, PBS was a miraculous fourth option that could be more dry and square than the major networks, yet other times more vital and sublime.
Both Siskel and Ebert could exude enthusiasm, both could seethe with disdain. They could like low-key movies I would never choose to see but inspired me to seek out. They could validate the big event pictures I just saw or was about to see so I got to feel more adult liking what they did, with pointers on discernment in film. Check out their exuberance over Superman II when they were still on PBS and had the luxury of nine minute reviews:
When they became sensations they graduated from PBS stations to syndication, creating the program At the Movies as lesser reviewers [e.g. Michael Medved – barf!] took over their Sneak Previews PBS gig. Then they left At the Movies, also subsequently taken over by lesser reviewers, to finally occupy Siskel & Ebert, their syndicated home until Siskel’s death in early 1999. After Siskel’s death, Ebert wrote about their early days:
“We both thought of ourselves as full-service, one-stop film critics. We didn’t see why the other one was quite necessary. We had been linked in a Faustian television format that brought us success at the price of autonomy. No sooner had I expressed a verdict on a movie, my verdict, than here came Siskel with the arrogance to say I was wrong, or, for that matter, the condescension to agree with me. It really felt like that. It was not an act. When we disagreed, there was incredulity; when we agreed, there was a kind of relief. In the television biz, they talk about “chemistry.” Not a thought was given to our chemistry. We just had it, because from the day the Chicago Tribune made Gene its film critic, we were professional enemies. We never had a single meaningful conversation before we started to work on our TV program. Alone together in an elevator, we would study the numbers changing above the door.”
When they disagreed, it was a lesson in dialectic. Generally, Siskel tended to be more prude, Ebert more epicurean. But sometimes they would flip. Look how they disagree over the stupendously pulpy Rocky IV in a six minute review:
Siskel surrenders to the sensations and emotional hooks of the movie and seems enraptured. Ebert, for once, cluck clucks and wonders how his colleague got so suckered in. Siskel grabs Ebert’s hand at one point (!) which is unusual for someone who carefully projected aloofness.
In time I realized they weren’t genius film critics, though Ebert’s writing sometimes burned with a hard, gemlike flame. But as I got to know their traits I could assess from their reviews – what one liked and why, what the other hated and why – where I would stand.
I suggest going down the YouTube rabbit hole and watching their reviews of movies you know. It can be delightful. I was surprised how vivid my recall was of some of their movie reviews. Before the internet, their t.v. shows often had a minute or more of a movie one wanted to see that wasn’t shown in commercials or trailers. The adrenaline could kick in for some of those moments and maybe that made them etch into memory.
Here’s a gem among many gems: their review of the movie Dune. No question it’s an incoherent movie without having crammed for it (I have a glossary of terms they gave ticket buyers to help them get oriented, though I had read the book and could follow it). But Siskel’s bewilderment and repulsion by the whole thing (reasonable) and Ebert’s perverse delight in the absurd waste and indulgence of the project (also reasonable) wonderfully sums up why I’ve probably watched the movie a dozen times:
Although eventually I outgrew their movie insights, I remain grateful to both of them and was saddened by Siskel’s death in 1999 and Roger Ebert’s death in 2013. Both of them were terrific public presences and talk show guests over their decades together. Ebert, in particular, was vulnerable and witty and compelling on The Howard Stern Show. If you want to amuse yourself a few minutes at a time, seek out their videos. I’d be delighted to get your observations and memories in the comments below.
Let’s hope to get back to movies in theaters again someday. “Until then, the balcony is closed.”
