Life Itself

Synopsis: Loosely adapted from Roger Ebert’s bestselling memoir of the same name, Steve James’ documentary reveals the life and legacy of this important film critic and social commentator. His film uses Ebert’s devastating struggle with cancer as a frame within which to focus on a lifetime of achievements including his early days as the Pulitzer Prize-winning film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times, his brief stint as the screenwriter of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and his rise to fame as half of the influential television partnership with fellow critic Gene Siskel.

The flopping fold of boneless skin that hangs loosely in the place where there should be a familiar jaw-line offers a clear view straight through the facade of what’s left of a mouth to the bandaged throat behind it. This stark and confronting image is how we first see 70 year old Roger Ebert, propped up in his hospital bed, tapping away at his laptop which is now the only the way he can give voice to his thoughts. Whilst it’s simultaneously impossible and hard not to look away, it certainly achieves the ‘truth’ of the situation that Ebert insists upon for what might otherwise been a fascinating but unremarkable documentary.

With this proviso, Ebert allowed award-winning documentary filmmaker, Steve James (Hoop Dreams) extraordinary access to him during what proves to be the final days of his life. In fact, the end is so imminent, that James has to resort to emailing his interview questions in order for Ebert to be able to manage his responses in between his treatment for cancer. Those responses, initially voiced by his computer, segue into excerpts from Ebert’s memoir, spoken by actor Stephen Stanton deputising for Ebert’s surgically removed voice-box, and from there we’re led into the vast collection of archival footage from the film critic’s long and distinguished career.  James cleverly works around the fact the Ebert can’t be his own talking head. Instead, we’re offered thoughtful reflections on his life through his eloquent writing style; an effective device even if the superimposed footnotes identifying which chapter the text is taken from sometimes seems like a strange promo for the book.

As we delve back into Ebert’s life, we’re treated to some great moments such as the relentless friction between he and his on-screen counterpart from the Siskel & Ebert days, and the hilariously unanimous conclusion from many friends and colleagues that the key motivation for him to write the screenplay of Russ Meyer’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls could be summed up in one word: ‘boobs!’ But there are also some serious testimonials here from the likes of friend and fellow writer, William Nack, filmmakers Martin Scorsese, Werner Herzog and Errol Morris, the latter crediting the spotlight of Ebert’s attention on his film Gates of Heaven as the break-through event that led to a long and distinguished career in documentary filmmaking.  Most moving, though, is his late-in-life romance with wife, Chaz, who shines throughout the film as a pillar of strength and a fitting partner for this otherwise insular intellect.

But, as entertaining and informative as these recollections are, it’s the encapsulation of a life that elevates this documentary. Knowing how this story will end and having seen the devastating results of his illness so early in the film colours way we interpret the scenes from his early life and career before the cancer took hold. As much as it’s a biopic, it’s more an essay on life, death and resilience. It has much to say on these matters, even if it makes its point well before the film’s two hour running time is up. Still, Life Itself leaves us with a captivating portrayal of this flawed but fascinating man who, right up until his final, sad email sign-off, was determined to share his astute and articulate observations about film, culture and the world with the world.

 

 

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