Ebert

While I hate to hear about people I respect or celebrities I like facing serious health problems, I have to admit that one of the better unexpected side effects that has come along with the ailments that storied Chicago Sun Times film reviewer Roger Ebert has been dealing with lately is the gradual fading away of his sense of "niceness" when it comes to reviewing films he clearly doesn't like.

Not that Ebert has ever been above skewering cinematic works he feels fall short of their intentions, but that lately he's started to get downright crotchety old man about it -- and as the summer movie season continues to roll out blockbuster after blockbuster, the results are becoming increasingly hilarious.

In other words -- had the much vaulted and ballyhooed Sex and the City movie come out say, five years ago -- there would be his review of the film balanced with objectively pleasant comments about the directors and people involved, or at least a friendly nod to all the hoopla surrounding pop culture phenomenons like this regardless of the quality of the movie that it spawns.

That was then.
This is now.

The best part of the whole thing is that it's not even a really negative review in terms of his overall impressions of the film itself, but it's very clearly a "I don't want to be in this theater at all. Couldn't they have gotten Roper to do this!?"

I can almost see him sitting there in front of his keyboard, America's movie review voice for as long as I can possibly remember, thinking to himself "Go see it. Or stay home. -- You know what? -- Do whatever you want. I don't care. Eat me."

Awesome.