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A review by michaelpatrickhicks
Opposable Thumbs: How Siskel & Ebert Changed Movies Forever by Matt Singer
5.0
Growing up, I viewed few things with as much religious devotion as I did the weekly Sunday morning showings of Siskel & Ebert on our local ABC affiliate. We never went to church, and my parents were shocked and outraged when I one day casually denounced the existence of god and proclaimed myself an atheist. I was shocked and outraged that they considered us Christian and expected me to blindly be a believer after growing up in such an irreligious household for my entire life, like what did they really expect? The only church I recognized was our local movie theater, and our more regularly frequented mom-and-pop video rental store, King Video, a modest brick structure painted a bright yellow that eventually grew in size to match the ever-expanding home video market (and much like home video rentals, King Video is gone now, too). I knew our membership number there better than I knew my own phone number. As a movie fan, I tuned in weekly to listen to the dueling sermons from on high and often found myself identifying and most often agreeing with Roger Ebert.
Reading Matthew Singer's Opposable Thumbs, I found even more points of comparison with Ebert, not just as a movie lover but as a fat kid with few friends who spent much of their childhood lost in books. Swap a Chicago suburb for a Detroit suburb and that could have been me to a T. Maybe that's why I always felt that Ebert was more approachable, even when he trashed a movie I had fallen in love with, like The Thing or Big Trouble in Little China. What surprised me most, though, was how Singer humanized Gene Siskel for me, a figure I remember as being overly stuffy, arrogant, and pedantic. I haven't done so yet, but I think it's time I began scouring YouTube for old show clips to see if what I remember is at all accurate, as it may be time for a reevaluation. Siskel and Ebert rarely agreed and fought about everything, and I mean everything, but as Singer shows us, so much of that was based in their own natural (or in Siskel's case, almost hypernatural) competitiveness and deeply held opinions. These men said what they meant, wholly and completely, and they didn't give a damn who it offended. They were critics and, as such, each were only as good as their word.
Not only did Siskel & Ebert make me love movies more, they inspired me to become a reviewer. I dreamed of becoming a movie critic and following in their footsteps, but books were always my first love. I've worked as a paid reviewer in the past, even if I'm what would be considered an amateur or armchair critic now, but it's a pretty straight line to trace my critical reviewing style back to the two men who popularized and democratized the art of criticism. Siskel and Ebert brought televised film review to the masses for over 20 years, until Siskel's shocking death from terminal brain cancer in 1999 at the age of 53, beginning with PBS and working their way up to national syndication, which is how I discovered them as a viewer. They made film review look familiar, with their Abbot and Costello appearances, as if anybody could do it, up to and even including this then-schlubby kid (who is, admittedly, a now-schlubby adult).
Singer does a fantastic job taking us behind the scenes, to the beginnings of the platform these two would perfect in Opening Soon...At A Theater Near You for PBS, up through Siskel & Ebert, and the various name changes to the show following Siskel's death and Ebert's own recurrent battles with cancer until his passing in 2013. Opposable Thumbs is a rich tapestry of the professional lives of these two men working together, showcasing a relationship in which the partners were constantly at odds with one another but still managed to develop a begrudging respect for one another and, eventually, an honest and deeply felt love that never got in the way of their endless, and endlessly entertaining, disagreements. Drawing directly from Siskel and Ebert's reviews and writings it's impossible not to hear each man's unique voices springing off the page every time they are quoted by Singer. Singer has also interviewed an array of others involved in the shows' productions, including the men's widows, but it's these two critics and their larger-than-life personas, these two Chicago reporters who worked a very particular beat for rival newspapers while becoming TV celebrities, who leap off the page even so many years after their deaths. Some of that is no doubt due to their strong, clashing personalities, but some is no doubt due, too, to their celebrity status and the memes and show clips that keep their work and memories alive on social media with surprising regularity.
Siskel and Ebert may be gone, and the televised review format they innovated gone with them, but they live on in perpetuity long after their balcony has closed for good. I'd be lying if I said Singer's closing chapters covering Ebert's battles with cancer, which left him disfigured and robbed him of his ability to speak, didn't leave me sobbing and emotionally wrecked, forcing me to put the book down for a little bit so I could recollect myself enough to push on through the book's final entries. It's powerhouse stuff, forcing you to recognize your own mortality and examine the memories you'll leave behind.
I can't give Opposable Thumbs two thumbs way up, but only because Siskel and Ebert's trademark thumbs up or down review style is, well, literally trademarked. The best I can do is give this book my highest possible recommendation. It's cliche to say something like, "I laughed, I loved, I cried," but it's true I did each of those over the few days I got to spend with these men once again for the first time in a great long while. For that, I have to thank the author, so... Thank you, Mr. Singer.
Reading Matthew Singer's Opposable Thumbs, I found even more points of comparison with Ebert, not just as a movie lover but as a fat kid with few friends who spent much of their childhood lost in books. Swap a Chicago suburb for a Detroit suburb and that could have been me to a T. Maybe that's why I always felt that Ebert was more approachable, even when he trashed a movie I had fallen in love with, like The Thing or Big Trouble in Little China. What surprised me most, though, was how Singer humanized Gene Siskel for me, a figure I remember as being overly stuffy, arrogant, and pedantic. I haven't done so yet, but I think it's time I began scouring YouTube for old show clips to see if what I remember is at all accurate, as it may be time for a reevaluation. Siskel and Ebert rarely agreed and fought about everything, and I mean everything, but as Singer shows us, so much of that was based in their own natural (or in Siskel's case, almost hypernatural) competitiveness and deeply held opinions. These men said what they meant, wholly and completely, and they didn't give a damn who it offended. They were critics and, as such, each were only as good as their word.
Not only did Siskel & Ebert make me love movies more, they inspired me to become a reviewer. I dreamed of becoming a movie critic and following in their footsteps, but books were always my first love. I've worked as a paid reviewer in the past, even if I'm what would be considered an amateur or armchair critic now, but it's a pretty straight line to trace my critical reviewing style back to the two men who popularized and democratized the art of criticism. Siskel and Ebert brought televised film review to the masses for over 20 years, until Siskel's shocking death from terminal brain cancer in 1999 at the age of 53, beginning with PBS and working their way up to national syndication, which is how I discovered them as a viewer. They made film review look familiar, with their Abbot and Costello appearances, as if anybody could do it, up to and even including this then-schlubby kid (who is, admittedly, a now-schlubby adult).
Singer does a fantastic job taking us behind the scenes, to the beginnings of the platform these two would perfect in Opening Soon...At A Theater Near You for PBS, up through Siskel & Ebert, and the various name changes to the show following Siskel's death and Ebert's own recurrent battles with cancer until his passing in 2013. Opposable Thumbs is a rich tapestry of the professional lives of these two men working together, showcasing a relationship in which the partners were constantly at odds with one another but still managed to develop a begrudging respect for one another and, eventually, an honest and deeply felt love that never got in the way of their endless, and endlessly entertaining, disagreements. Drawing directly from Siskel and Ebert's reviews and writings it's impossible not to hear each man's unique voices springing off the page every time they are quoted by Singer. Singer has also interviewed an array of others involved in the shows' productions, including the men's widows, but it's these two critics and their larger-than-life personas, these two Chicago reporters who worked a very particular beat for rival newspapers while becoming TV celebrities, who leap off the page even so many years after their deaths. Some of that is no doubt due to their strong, clashing personalities, but some is no doubt due, too, to their celebrity status and the memes and show clips that keep their work and memories alive on social media with surprising regularity.
Siskel and Ebert may be gone, and the televised review format they innovated gone with them, but they live on in perpetuity long after their balcony has closed for good. I'd be lying if I said Singer's closing chapters covering Ebert's battles with cancer, which left him disfigured and robbed him of his ability to speak, didn't leave me sobbing and emotionally wrecked, forcing me to put the book down for a little bit so I could recollect myself enough to push on through the book's final entries. It's powerhouse stuff, forcing you to recognize your own mortality and examine the memories you'll leave behind.
I can't give Opposable Thumbs two thumbs way up, but only because Siskel and Ebert's trademark thumbs up or down review style is, well, literally trademarked. The best I can do is give this book my highest possible recommendation. It's cliche to say something like, "I laughed, I loved, I cried," but it's true I did each of those over the few days I got to spend with these men once again for the first time in a great long while. For that, I have to thank the author, so... Thank you, Mr. Singer.