COLUMN: Mourning the loss of two thumbs up

From Daniel Fienberg's, "The Fien Print," Fall '99 From Daniel Fienberg's, "The Fien Print," Fall '99In the opening credits to their syndicated show, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel walk the streets of Chicago, receiving salutations fit for conquering heroes. Everywhere they go, their faces adorn buses and billboards alike. People greet the two film critics with love and respect. Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert certainly weren't the first people to review movies using witty little codes. But what began as a local Chicago show pitting reviewers from The Chicago Sun-Times and The Chicago Tribune became a genuine national institution. Much as Pauline Kael was said to be able to make or break films back in the '70s, many a bad filmmaker -- or a genius on an off day -- blamed Siskel and Ebert for sinking their movie. Part of their appeal was their Hanna-Barbara chemistry -- there was the fat guy, Ebert, and the bald guy, Siskel. And we felt that we got to know them to the point that you could almost guess which kinds of movies each would like and which kind would draw their ire. Fans would refer to them as Roger and Gene and when they looked out at the camera at the end of every show, it was as if they were speaking specifically to each and every one of us, recommending and warning. Gene Siskel once referred to his job as "the dream beat." He recognized that movies are more than just a Saturday afternoon with popcorn, a few trailers and gum stuck to the bottom of your seat. He understood the way people look forward to movies and the way that movies then reflect back on audiences. Siskel and Ebert were moviedom's longest-running tag-team partnership -- tag-team because of their double-minded collaboration against the failings of a medium both loved and often expected more from.Cynical people made fun of the pair because of the ubiquity of their "Two Thumbs Up" but anybody who actually watched the show -- or read their reviews -- knew how hard they worked to find enough that they liked about a movie to throw that thumb skyward. They just loved movies that much. "He was the one who never liked anything," I heard someone on Locust Walk say of Siskel. Ebert, the consummate film lover, has worked his whole career to find reasons to justify adoring nearly everything. But Siskel often got angry when a movie disappointed him and millions of people tuned in every week in the hope that Gene would look at Roger and -- with the most patient of deadpans -- say, "Roger, are you crazy?" And only rarely were they disappointed. Siskel wasn't an angry man, but he wanted to be surprised, to see something original and new. As a result, independent cinema got a major boost from the inhabitants of The Balcony. When the thumbs went "Way Up!!!" for a young filmmaker, never heard of before, overnight a star was born. Siskel and Ebert brought film criticism to the American mainstream but they did it the right way, with intelligence, enthusiasm and -- when the show premiered in 1975 -- really bad hair. They weren't hacks or junket junkies like so many of the "reviewers" they paved the road for. Ebert is a Pulitzer Prize winner and Siskel, well, you never for a second doubted that he knew what he was talking about. Perhaps because he was always the quieter of the two, Siskel took pride in praising the esoteric. Films that he dubbed "Best of the Year" as time went by -- Shoah, One False Move or Straight Time -- were rarely the obvious choice. But look at Gene Siskel the Critic's favorite films -- from 1998's Babe: Pig in the City back to classics like The General -- and I suspect you'll see something of Gene Siskel the Person. Ebert, of course, is still alive. And the television show, apparently, will go on. But it won't be the same. Not just because the man is missing, but because of the love, knowledge and chemistry that he brought to his profession and to the movies.