The Balcony is Closed

"If a movie is really working, you forget for two hours your Social Security number and where your car is parked. You are having a vicarious experience. You are identifying, in one way or another, with the people on the screen." — Roger Ebert

When I got my first apartment, thinking about what to lay out on the coffee table as I was wandering through a bookstore, there was only one thing that felt right. I saw the book "Your Movie Sucks," by the great film critic Roger Ebert. It was a collection of his one and zero star reviews, as well as answers to readers questions and a fascinating opening essay where he talked about his process in responding to Rob Schneider, who was sad his sequel to "Deuce Bigelow" didn't get a good review. Go figure.

I had the book on my coffee table the whole time I was in that first apartment. People would pick it up and thumb through it when they arrived. I would occasionally pick it up and read a different review. It was funny, fascinating, and comforting. And it fit me.

Like Roger Ebert, I have a passion for film and a love for film. And, like Roger Ebert, I love to think about, discuss, and consider all the aspects of films I've seen — even the bad ones.

On Thursday, the world lost a passionate voice for film when Ebert, 70, passed away. He had been sick for a long time, but it was still deeply sad to hear the news that he'd written his last review. The near universal praise he's received — from filmmakers, actors, athletes, and even the President of the United States — is a testament to his life's work and the man himself. Whether you agreed with Ebert or not, you had to respect him and his passion for films.

It was a passion born of failure as a filmmaker. Ebert is best known for his criticism of film — but he was probably his own harshest critic, and for good reason. Before becoming a household name as a film reviewer for the "Chicago Sun Times" and on TV, Ebert was a budding screenwriter. His first film film, "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" (1970), is a weird drug and sex fueled disaster that fits with the late 1960s/early 1970s. Ebert penned two other features for "Dolls" director Russ Meyer — "Up!" (1976) and "Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens" (1979). But that wasn't the writing that made him famous and revered the world over.

I remember watching "Siskel & Ebert" as a young man. I loved watching them debate movies and couldn't wait for their final verdict — thumbs up or thumbs down. Even when I didn't agree — which happens frequently — I always appreciated their points, passionate debate, and the way they broke the films down. I got the sense my family didn't always understand why I liked the show so much, but to me it was joy, and as I went through college I better understood why.

I have always had a passion for films — something I explored further as an undergraduate at Biola University, and a part of the Radio, Television, and Film program. We studied films, made films, and broke films down. Perhaps my favorite class was Film Theory. I couldn't get enough.

At the same time, I was going to films at an incredible rate. Every Friday (because I always arranged to have no classes on Fridays) I would head to the theater. During the week, my roommate and I would search the video store aisles — back when there still were video stores — and watch classic films of all types.

And on Sunday nights at 6:30 p.m., we would watch Ebert and his new partner — Richard Roeper — discuss all the new releases.

When I started reviewing films at my first newspaper job in 2003, it was a happy moment. For the last decade I've tried to bring my passion and dedication to the craft of film criticism — whether in print on Thursdays in this blog space. Watching Ebert, you understood criticism is an art. There are technical aspects of a film that can be objectively evaluated, but the things that make a film great — the story, characters, and emotions it stirs — are purely subjective. Those who have the gift for criticism are able to balance the two. That is something I always appreciated about Ebert, and something I've tried to remember when crafting my own reviews.

Whether it was on TV or print, I was always excited to see one of Ebert's reviews because you could see how much time and dedication he put into them. He respected the art of film, and took his job seriously. In the article about his passing, it was noted that at one point he reviewed as many as 265 films as year. He did it with passion and a love of film that comes from deep within.

Yesterday, the world lost a great writer, a fascinating man, and a great fan and advocate for cinema. And he will be sorely missed.