Ode to Gene: A Review
of Roger Ebert’s Review of “Saturday Night Fever”
by Christopher Dooley
While it may be difficult for us to accept
Ebert without Siskel,
we can only imagine the profound identity crisis the surviving
member of the duo must be confronting. This has become painfully
clear in his more recent reviews, as his defense mechanisms manifest
themselves in statements such as, “Gene used to say…” and “…Siskel
liked to say.” Ebert’s longing for his “other half” is clear and
gloomy. He no longer has a distinct picture of who he is.
In his “Saturday
Night Fever” review, Ebert incessantly refers to his colleague,
often forsaking his own opinions in favor of what Gene thought.
More disturbing are the comparisons Ebert draws between Siskel’s
favorite film, “Saturday Night Fever,” and his own favorite film,
“La Dolce Vita.” An examination of Ebert’s “La
Dolce Vita” review offers some clarification of his true relationship
with Siskel. Ebert casts himself as Marcello, Fellini’s weary
newspaperman in search of the sweet life. He substantiates this
connection with the statement, “we can never be sure that Marcello
has had sex with anyone.” Is there any doubt Ebert sees himself
as Marcello? His adoring descriptions of Marcello’s idol, Steiner,
as a man who has everything are blatant allusions to his own adulation
of Siskel. “Steiner…represents all that Marcello envies,” Ebert
writes in his review. But you get the feeling that he intended
to use the names Siskel and Ebert, respectively.
Ebert’s sentiments become even clearer in
the “Saturday Night Fever” review when he equates Siskel with
Tony Manero, John Travolta’s shorn-chested, virile, footloose
character. Ebert tells the story of how Siskel acquired the famous
white suit worn by Travolta in the movie. This anecdote evokes
the image of a dressed-up Gene Siskel strutting his stuff to the
Bee Gees. Could it be that Roger Ebert once had aspirations of
disco-dancing and that he envied Siskel’s abilities? We can only
suppose. But there is no mistaking the intent of Ebert’s closing
paragraph when he describes the suit as having a “shirt that buttoned
under the crotch, so it would still look neat after a night on
the dance floor.” He goes on to write, “I asked Gene if he’d ever
tried it on. It was too small, he said. But it wasn’t the
size that mattered.”
Certainly, Roger Ebert had hoped size didn’t
matter as he cherished the vision of Gene Siskel discoing the
night away in a suit that was too small for either of them to
wear comfortably. The image of a man living the type of life Roger
Ebert had always craved. A sweet life, indeed. It’s too bad these
revelations are presented in a review that is all too muddled
and sentimental.
