Roger That

I am distraught.

Why is that so, Ariella? you may ask.

Thank you for your concern, theoretical reader. The reason for my distress is Roger Ebert's current state of health. I don't think he's close to dying, but he has postponed his reviewing as many movies as usual until he feels better from a recent accident he has had.

I read his reviews every week.

I will admit that he can be a total jerk sometimes, but generally I agree with his ratings (with the notable exception of The Usual Suspects. Rethink that one, Roger). But it's less his merit than his sentimental worth to me that draws me to him; ever since I've embarked on my filmic odyssey, I have looked to him to guide me through cinematic mazes to find classic films, obscure films, art films, the works. I have pored Volumes I and II of his Great Movies collections. I have watched hours of Siskel & Ebert at the Movies and cackled at their squabbling.

Part of the benefit of getting interested in cinema at a relatively late stage in my life was that most of my soon-to-be idols died before I actually saw their movies and they became my idols (let's shed a tear for Paul Newman, everyone). In that way, I got to miss out on some of that grief.

And then Elizabeth Taylor died, and it was like a slug to the stomach. I don't think I've quite recovered from that. When someone is such a constant in your life, the lack of him or her feels unsettling, like the solid ground beneath you has suddenly become sand. The thought that keeps popping into my head is, What will they do with his website if he dies? 

But I don't want to think about that. All I want to say is thank you, Roger, for playing the part of my cinematic guru. I give you two thumbs up.