I have been planning a blog concerning the biggest influences in my life and Roger Ebert topped the list. At the extremely tender age of four, I wanted to be a film critic more than anyone reading this could possibly understand. The idea of watching films and analyzing them for a living was an amazing thought for my young mind. I already loved film more than anyone my age, even my parents, and that idea struck such a strong cord with me it was unreal.
Today, April 4, 2013, will be a day I regard with unbelievable, impenetrable sadness. Roger Ebert, my influence, my silent-mentor, my direct inspiration, has passed away after a tragically long battle with cancer. His death comes just two days after he announced his "leave of presence" from the Chicago Sun-Times newspaper due to his cancer recurrence. He already was only reviewing roughly one movie a week, leaving much of the week's releases to be reviewed by the likes of Richard Roeper and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky (two others that earned a spot on my unpublished "influences" blog). In his blog, he stated that he would only review films he really wanted to see. We'll never know what those select few were.
His blog was optimistic in a time of deep sorrow on his part. He stated he may even publish a new "Great Movies" book, or even offer guidance and publications based on setbacks from disease. While most would be planning their next meal or their personal life, he was planning how he could use his remaining time to help people through life with disease. In 2006, thyroid cancer halted his presence on his program "At the Movies," and caused him to lose his ability to speak and eat. Just this morning, popular radio-host Mancow Muller talked about how Roger Ebert was basically a "floating head" in a wheelchair, yet was still more active, insightful, and grateful than many young people today. I wholeheartedly agree.
This blog isn't meant to be long; it's meant to be a remembrance for a great man. One that was my direct inspiration for becoming a film critic. His blogs, books, and reviews read like poetry and only motivated me to become a more accomplished, fluent writer myself. I doubt I'll ever each the fame and impact of Ebert, but if I do, I still probably wouldn't be half the writer he was. Even this blog I'm writing feels incredibly insufficient.
Ebert's death comes just weeks before, I predicted, I'd publish my 1,000th review. Guess who it'll be dedicated to now?
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