Ebert Movieguy

I grew up watching Roger Ebert review movies on television, and have a lot of respect for his body of work, when taken as a whole. So it pains me to say that he has pretty much lost it. But he has pretty much lost it.

The Year-End "Best Of" list is always tricky territory for a film critic. Do you go with a popular favorite in an attempt to show that you are "with it" and have the common touch? Do you highlight a favorite indie or foreign film in an attempt to broaden the movie's audience? And Ebert's had some wacky picks over the years. I recall one year that he picked Dark City as the best film (a very cool move on his part) and his partner Gene Siskel picked, I shit you not, Babe: Pig in the City. What a total mack.

But this year, he choice is totally unforgivable. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, Ebert's and my own end of the year list are complete and total opposites. My worst film of 2005, Paul Haggis' wretched Crash, is Ebert's pick as the #1 Film of 2005.

What a revolting development this is!

Not many films have the possibility of making their viewers better people; anyone seeing it is likely to leave with a little more sympathy for people not like themselves. The film opened quietly in May and increased its audience week by week, as people told each other they must see it.

That second sentence is dead-on. The movie has mind-bogglingly spread through word of mouth. I have customers tell me that it's a wonderful film I simply must see (I tell people I haven't seen it for obvious reasons) at least once a week. In Los Angeles, where this bogus nonsense is set!

But Roger is actually saying that watching a stupid, oversimplified and inaccurate screed on tolerance will make you a better person. I mean, that's taking it pretty far. I'm not sure watching any single movie can make you a better person, but if so, isn't it more likely to be Seven Samurai or L'Avventura or The Third Man or something? Rather than an ensemble drama with Sandy Bullock and Matt Dillon?

Oh, and he also names another Worst Movie List-maker, Cinderella Man, as a runner-up to his Best-Of list. Yikes!

Crowe's accomplishment is to play Braddock as a good man, even-tempered, loyal to his family above all.

I guess it is really hard for Russell Crowe to make himself appear even-tempered. I never thought about that before...

So, yeah, Roger...No longer trustworthy in any way, shape or form...Not that I actually trust the opinions of film critics, any film critics, ever.

Ebert's making an ass out of himself on the Internet in more than one way this week, regrettably. In addition to naming the odious idiocy of Mr. Haggis as the year's best film, he's gone and offended the gamer community. Roger has claimed that, by definition, video games cannot be considered an art form. And gamers have claimed that, well, that OMFG Roger = teh sux0rz.

These arguments get really lame really quickly. No one has a really good, tight definition for art. It always becomes "the stuff that I understand," exclusively excluding "the stuff you understand but that I don't get." Pointless discussions then ensue. Ebert is essentially saying that, because the outcome is indeterminate and dependant on the user, then the product isn't art. It's just a simulated experience, or a pasttime, or whatever. The gamers are saying that the same amount of creativity and artistry that go into a movie or a painting or a symphony go into a complex video game design, and that the final experience is just as engrossing or enriching as any other art form.

Obviously, the gamers case makes more sense. I mean, I've never had a video game impact me in the same way as a movie, but I'm not a huge video game playing kind of person. And obviously, exceptionally talented and creative people work for years putting these intensely thoughtful, complicated devices together. How could that not be considered an artistic endeavor?

But more importantly, what's the purpose of denying video games status as an art form in print? It's just going to start an argument, and there's no way to declare anyone "correct" or "incorrect." If the guy wants to think out loud, in print, he really should start a blog or something.

Anyway, one e-mailer wrote Roger in making a very good point. He noted that movies are slowly becoming more like video games, requiring some degree of interactivity from the audience. A film like Memento requires not just concentration, but problem-solving, to follow the backwards narrative. And a film like Run Lola Run reflects an interest in various different outcomes for the same inspiring event, just like in a video game.

This kind of film doesn't actually invalidate Ebert's claim that any sort of audience participation invalidates a project as art. I mean, yes, you have to think about Memento, but it's still not interactive. I've seen it more than once, and the movie is identical each time.

Here's what I think serves as a good counter-example. Classical music. We of course consider Mozart, Beethoven, Strauss, all those composers to be artists, right? But we don't have any recordings of their playing. We only know them from their compositions. But those compositions have to be interpreted by contemporary musicians in order for us to hear and appreciate them. Sure, there is real content to be evaluated, but the art is in the way the music is played in the present.

If you hear a bad rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus, it doesn't mean Handel sucks.

Isn't that just like video games? They are designed for others to play and interpret, but it's the actual programming, the software, that is the artistic endeavor. Also, as an added bonus similarity, I am equally poor and playing video games and classical music. Total lack of hand-eye coordination. Seriously. It's bad. I should probably be on disability.