As much as shimes and I joke around about Roger Ebert and his obsession with Angelina Jolie's breasts or his insistence upon granting four stars to any film with an interracial couple, it's hard not to admit that he has set the gold standard for film criticism in this country. Even if one is not inclined to agree with Ebert's analysis, I would bet the farm that these people still go to suntimes.com /ebert every week to read his sharp and to-the-point observations that are generally surrounded by some of the funniest commentary in journalism...anywhere. But I love Ebert in the grudging fashion that I also grant love to Dave Grohl's Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl is not nearly as cool or as important without Kurt Cobain and Nirvana and Roger Ebert is not nearly as smart or as entertaining without Gene Siskel. As though anyone needs to be reminded, Siskel was Ebert's cohort on their long-running syndicated show, the critic for The Chicago Tribune, and also was the regular critic on such shows as CBS This Morning. Siskel died during surgery to remove a brain tumor in early 1999 and for me, his presence is one that is sorely missed. Gene Siskel was a critic who felt more at home with the audience than with any advanced screening of critics or studio wankers. He loved the experience of the darkened auditorium and his taste in films and his writing style reflected this theory pretty keenly. While his solo work was exemplary, his time with Ebert was beyond words. And it wasn't so much the fighting, which they did on every subject from their notorious split on David Lynch's Blue Velvet to the knockdown drag-out over Free Willy that was enacted on Late Night with David Letterman. Gene Siskel and his mean wit and exaggerated aggression was the main reason that Siskel and Ebert rose to a sophisticated level of criticism that did not merely provoke, but was also successful at becoming a separate form of entertainment.

Gene Siskel began reviewing in the late 1960's and it was clear that his critique would not be over film but over movies. This is an important distinction pointed out by shimes in this Kael-dominated time period. This is obvious by looking at Siskel's Top Films of All Time. In addition to the standard inclusion of Casablanca and Citizen Kane, he also finds space high on the chart for films such as Singin' in the Rain and Pinocchio. These films are normally considered to be good by most critics but are normally ranked higher by audience members. His rationale for these films being so highly revered is explained in his review of Saturday Night Fever, another unlikely film that also creeps its way into Siskels's later lists: "(This film) gives us the life of the New York working kid and also gives the audience the experience of the 'believable fantasy'. That is to say that what happens to the character here is fantastic but it is also something that could happen to the audience member themselves if the moment was right. That is what will make this story a classic." The theme of the audience is carried into his review of ET: "There is nothing in this film that does not tap a nerve of childhood memories. This is the imaginary friend that has the power to heal all things physical and spiritual. Any childhood worry could be fixed. The pure wonder is coming from the children in the audience. The wonder mixed with sadness is resonated from the adults." Wow. Writing does not get any more emotionally charged than this. And he does this with a lot of his reviews. He always talks about The Audience Reaction and The Mood of the Audience. He understands that the theatrical experience will never be replaced by Blockbuster or by digital cable because it is not merely the film but it is also the community experience of witnessing the wonder and surprises of those shared moments. And Siskel loved being surprised by film. I never heard a critic be so enthusiastic about sleeper films that came in under the radar: He spoke enthusiastically about B-films like The Arrival and Surviving the Game to the point where I saw them without knowing much about them except that he spoke so highly of them. And they were pretty good. These recommendations also left an impact on the filmmakers and were not forgotten: The Farraley brothers dedicated their 2000 Me, Myself and Irene to Siskel, in respect no doubt to his undying love for their sadly underrated Kingpin. He gave respect to the filmmakers and in turn it made his opinion more respectable and gave them more weight.

But would we be talking about Gene Siskel if not for Siskel and Ebert? We would but it wouldn't nearly be as much fun. Sure, the show he and Roger Ebert did was a great spectacle and most people tuned in to watch the fights. They normally did not split violently but they always talked about the four-star Ebert review and the one and a half star Siskel review for Blue Velvet. The arguments were always spirited and intelligent, but there was something about watching Siskel's reactions that made them really interesting. The body language was comically tense to the point where it seemed that his sweater would rip into shreds and his eyes could say more than paragraphs of words. It's like he could not stand one more ounce of Ebert's bullcrap or else he was going to explode. And you know Ebert loved to rub in that Pulitzer during commercial breaks, don't you? But Siskel's real revenge always happened whenever they would leave the balcony and hit the talk show circuit. Until I die, I will never forget an August 1993 appearance they did on Late Night with David Letterman. Letterman had just done a particularly bad Top Ten List and then invites the two out. Siskel's first words are: "Was that really the Top Ten List? I thought that there would be another one and then we would come on. But that was is, huh?" The interview got even worse when Letterman brought up the seemingly innocent topic of Free Willy. Siskel complained, and rightfully so, that the film was bad because the audience (There they are again.) could not relate to Willy because of his eyes. "All great creatures have very expressive eyes. ET. King Kong. It's the only way that the audience can relate to something with very little other ways of communication." Ebert scoffed and said that was a silly reason to not like a movie. Siskel's response? "Well Roger. Maybe you relate to Willy because you're both fat." Siskel rolls his eyes, Letterman starts to sweat, and NBC cuts to commercial. Folks, I'll take this over Kaufman-Lawler any day of the week. And while these spats were great, it never beat the moments when they both really agreed to loving a film. Their discussions of the 1994 documentary Hoop Dreams is some of the most heartfelt and sincere criticism ever displayed in public. And when they agreed on a point, they looked at each other as though they had just discovered their best friend. They both loved movies, and in a profession where everyone seems so quick to be the first to hate something, it was a truly inspirational thing.

It took awhile for the show and for Ebert to get back on his feet. At first, I thought that Ebert had given up on trying to find a suitable replacement for Siskel. I mean, for the first year or two, Richard Roeper was one of the most passive and idiotic critics to ever make a path to the air waves. He loved, not just liked, Meet the Parents and he put Shallow Hal on his Top Ten list last year. And Ebert took the approach to him as though he were an untrained dog who merely needed verbal biscuits. But shimes and I have noticed a distinct change in Roeper in the past month. He openly chaffs at Ebert's opinion and offers intelligent reasons for doing so. He also gave a really good analysis on the evolution of High Grant's career last week that sctually made me think about the actor slightly differently. It's as though he has realized that Siskel's shoes are mighty big and it will take someone who is smart and defiant to fill them.Shimes and I also believe that Ebert praising the baboon scene in Murder by Numbers may have caused him to snap. Or else he just resigned a contract and has nothing to lose. Either way, he may end up being a passable successor, but he will never transcend the man who champoined the little guy in independent film, respected movies as an artistic experience and who made Ebert-bashing a household pastime. Ebert may have had a bit of a grudge against Siskel while he was here, but even he probably misses the way-too maroon sweater vest and the eye-rolling. On this Memorial Day, I salute you Gene Siskel. As for now, the balcony is closed.