I heard the news of Gene Siskel's death from a friend. I was home and the news did not register immediately. A look of shock and morose was on my face. It can't be. He was only taking a leave of absence to recuperate. I explained to myself, desperately trying to reason the situation out. What happened? I had lost feeling in my body, as one of my favorite entertainers was suddenly gone. To lose any person is wrong. To lose someone, who still had a life to lead, is even worse and makes it hurt that much more.
Chicago Tribune's most famous film critic, Gene Siskel died Saturday at Chicago's Evanston Hospital, after battling complications of a brain tumor. He was 53 years old.
Siskel had undergone brain surgery last May and showed his courage and strength by quickly returning to his job, despite his doctor's orders. After two weeks, he was watching movies on tape in his hospital bed and was phoning his reviews in to his show, "Siskel & Ebert." It seemed like everything was going back to normal, as it seemed as if he never had any surgery.
Gene Siskel was hired by the Tribune in January 1969, where he worked as a news reporter and staff writer for the paper's Sunday department. The Tribune was where he reviewed his first movie, a Disney family movie called Rascal. That September he was named the Tribune's film critic at the age of 23.
Around the mid 70's, Gene was then partnered with a rival critic, Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun Times, to do a television show, where the two review up and coming movies that was titled "Sneak Previews." After a couple of years, including a stint on PBS outlets, they were bought by Disney and nationally syndicated across the nation with the show now titled "Siskel & Ebert at the Movies."
The rivalry between these two strong critics was legendary, as the two never backed down from each other's words. Their passionate debates over current movies often made the show more entertaining than the films itself. Their huge egos and unrelenting humor toward each other, was fresh and unimaginative. Their arguments caused their popularity to soar and become the most famous and influential film critics in the world. Their choice of rating "Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down" could make or break a film. Their image was powerful, as they were often referred as "the fat man and skinny guy", when people didn't know their name. (I myself liked to refer them as "Fat Man and Little Boy.")
It is hard to believe that in the first five years of their television show, they were huge rivals that caused them to never utter a word to each other until they were on the air. "We had lots of big fights," Ebert said in a WLS-TV interview. "We were people who came together one day a week to work together and the other six days of the week we were competitors on two daily newspapers and two different television stations. So there was a lot of competition and a lot of disagreement."
"These are two men who never would have chosen each other for friends," Thea Flaum, the show's executive producer, told the Chicago Tribune. "They have no natural affinity for each other. But TV forced them to find a way to work together."
In the end, they became the best of friends. "Gene was a lifelong friend and our professional competition only strengthened that bond," Ebert wrote in a prepared statement.
The appeal of Siskel was how he always presented himself, approachable and cunning. He never seemed angry and was always a pleasure to watch. His reviews of movies appealed to people because of his simplicity. He never put down his readers, like other critics, who write reviews in such cryptic fashion that they make a person feel stupid and insignificant. His reviews were succinct, but he had no problem expressing his thoughts to the reader. I tend to read more of Ebert's pieces of writing, but I never strayed from a page when I saw his name. Siskel told the truth and never cared about nor was influenced by anyone's opinion. Siskel and Ebert, were never afraid of voicing their opinion on the Hollywood establishment, as Siskel implied that the Academy Awards' statuettes could be bought through expensive advertising campaigns.
Since 1980, Siskel had been married to the former Marlene Iglitzen, whom he had met when she was the producer of WBBM's afternoon newscasts for which he provided reviews. She survives him, as do their three children, two girls and a boy.
Siskel was a fighter to the end, as he was quiet about the state of his health. "He wanted the focus on his film criticism," wrote Ebert in his Sunday column. "And although it was obvious sometimes that he walked slowly and was in pain, I never once heard him complain."
Siskel once described his job as "the greatest job on earth." He didn't want to write, direct or star in a movie. He just loved talking about it. And he did a great job doing it and we loved him for it.
The author would like to acknowledge Richard Natale (Variety) and Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun Times), as information was used from their columns.