Life Itself

So, now that the awards season is blissfully over, let’s talk about some other movies. Specifically, 370 of them.

After watching Steve James’ remarkable documentary Life Itself (excuse me while I go weep), I got to thinking about Roger Ebert. His books are cultural touchstones for film fans, and, like many other people, I’ve related to him fiercely. Reading Ebert’s review is often one of the first things I want to do when I see a film I admire. And then, I remember watching At The Movies as a kid, and specifically as a kid who didn’t even go to very many movies. I was excited to see the clips, and interested in the two mismatched dudes who got all worked up about them. He seemed like everyone’s mostly genial uncle, who also happened to have a lot of thoughts about every movie imaginable.

Later, I came to appreciate Ebert for his populist sensibility and unwavering enthusiasm. He put out clear, smart writing in a distinct voice, more or less relating what he thought of the movie (which he always wanted to enjoy and hoped wouldn’t disappoint) and what he thought you, the reader, would find if you checked it out.

If you get technical about it, Ebert’s famous notion of film as an “empathy machine” might not be exactly right. But that generous, humanistic sentiment is valuable, and neatly encapsulates everything admirable about his approach.

More pragmatically, as several folks in Life Itself point out, he raised the profile of the films he championed, giving vital access to filmmakers (Erroll Morris, Gregory Nava, Ava Duvernay, Ramin Bahrani, among others, not to mention Hoop Dreams‘ Steve James, who also made Life Itself) who might not have found an audience without him, and he might’ve even literally saved a few people along the way.

And last but not least, in his eminently understandable reviews throughout Roger Ebert’s Great Movies series, he provided his own canon. It’s ironic that he’s so associated with categorical and canonical judgements, since he is on record as despising “best of” lists and the dispiriting, professionally-mandated task of composing them. He preferred to just list movies side by side which he thought were “great,” rather than pitting them against each other like we do every year at awards shows. It’s a noble thought maybe undermined by itself; hierarchical or not, in the end, there’s still a list.

The films profiled (searchable on Ebert’s site, and listed below) represent one (extremely influential and sharp) person’s singular account of cinema history, so there are some unexpected entries. And a whole lot of omissions, since everyone has blind spots and even long lists exclude things by definition. But it’s also a pretty accurate and useful compilation of some of the films that linger in the cultural imagination.

Which brings me to The Plan, as I’ve started calling it (you can even hear the capitalization when I say it aloud): There are 370 movies here, and I plan to watch them all. Is it following Phish and Insane Clown Posse for a while, and slowly going mad? It is not. But it’s The Plan.

The Plan is also to watch them chronologically, revisiting those I’ve seen before and hopefully discovering new (or, more likely, old) masterpieces. I also Plan to write them up individually, with possible assistance from friends (seriously, people, pitch in a little here. You know who you are). I’ll update this page as I do so.

Because these titles tend to focus on U.S., European, and Japanese films, and mostly represent Global Straight Dude Cinema, The Plan gets even more involved: I’m also going to counter-program this series with something else. Why construct one elaborate project when you can construct two?

But that’s a story for another day (probably tomorrow). For now, I just hope that this project will clue me (and the viewing audience at home! Hi, you two!) into themes and echoes across the years, and lead to a better understanding of how an art form works.

And if I fail to clear that bar? At least I’ll still have Planes, Trains and Automobiles and Come and See to look forward to — both were hilarious, I think!

P.S. I was inspired, in part, to do this by the maniac/admirably committed cineaste over at Another Goddamn Movie Blog, who’s taken on something even more ambitious: all films mentioned in Marc Cousins’ The Story Of Film. This is a Werner Herzog-like reach for the impossible that should have everyone’s full support. In fact, that list also has a certain something going for it that this one lacks (it’s Robocop), so you should go read that stuff.