Roger Ebert

I was sad to hear that Roger Ebert died.  Our lives intersected a few times over the years.  I used to see him at the Sundance Film Festival.  He'd always go to the weekend premieres at the Eccles Theatre and sit in the same seat, like he was superstitious.

I first met him when I was CEO of ClearPlay and embroiled in battles with the studios.  I introduced myself between movies in the Eccles lobby and we talked about the ClearPlay concept.  After some discussion, he asked to take my picture, which surprised me.  It was a new camera and he hadn't quite figured out how to operate it, so it took him several takes to finally get it right.  All the while we were the focus of attention in the lobby.  Everyone recognized Roger, but had no idea who I was, although the mere fact that Roger Ebert was taking my picture gave me an assumed, if undeserved, celebrity status. 

The next morning in his column in the Chicago Sun-Times Roger referred to me as "a candidate for the most hated man in Hollywood."  (It was a moniker that followed me around for some time, and turned out to be good for publicity!) 

That morning I ran into him again at the Yarrow Hotel.  He had just finished breakfast with Darryl Hannah.  I had read his column and so went up to him with a laugh.  He protested that he thought he had been fair.  Then he introduced me to Darryl Hannah.  (I'm not often starstruck, but when the tall comely blonde extended her hand and said "I'm Darryl," I was quite tongue-tied.)  Anyway, I figured that introduction more than compensated for any negativity in Roger's column.

Also in the column he mentioned that the previous night he was asked to take a picture of Bob Dylan, who was there for the premiere of his most awful movie, "Masked and Anonymous."  (He co-wrote it with Larry Charles--it was really quite bad.)  So now I have two connections to Dylan--we both grew up in Northern Minnesota and we've been on the same roll of film.

I'd see Roger again at Sundance every year.  He was masterful talking about movies.  And occasionally I'd ask him about one--I recall us discussing Southern Comfort, about a rural southern transsexual community that we both found fascinating.  

He was an extraordinary scholar of cinema history.  His voiceover commentary on one of my favorite movies, Casablanca, is really wonderful and has deepened my appreciation for the classic film.   It was sad to see him suffer so badly the past few years, and he has not been to Sundance in quite a while.  He will be missed.