In the golden era of film criticism, two names stood as giants among mere mortals: Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert. These American film critics became household names through their groundbreaking show, “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert,” which aired from 1982 to 1986.
Known for their spirited debates, razor-sharp wit, and their iconic “Thumbs Up” or “Thumbs Down” rating system, Siskel and Ebert didn’t just review movies. They skewered them, transcending all other traditional forms of entertainment.
However, not all of the treasures from the Siskel and Ebert vault were shared with the public. Amidst their televised critiques lies a trove of what can only be described as “The Siskel & Ebert Movie Reviews You Weren’t Meant to See.”
These lost film reviews, shrouded in mystery, have sparked the imaginations of cinephiles and casual viewers alike. What was in these critiques? Why were they “lost”? The answers to these questions have become something of a Holy Grail within film circles. Until now.
While I’m not able to reveal my sources, I’m pleased to announce that I’m publishing 17 of the hundreds of lost reviews here in two parts.
In Part One, I’ll share nine of their more traditional reviews:
- King Kong
- The Ten Commandments
- The Wizard of Oz
- Titanic
- Gone with the Wind
- Forrest Gump
- The Sound of Music
- The Shawshank Redemption
- Castaway
In Part Two, I’ll share eight of their more controversial reviews:
- The Little Mermaid
- The Muppet Movie
- Little Red Riding Hood
- Bambi
- The Little Engine That Could
- Dumbo
- Toy Story
- Mary Poppins.
I hope you enjoy them as much as I have. I’ll see you at the movies!
King Kong
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert” like it’s some big surprise you haven’t seen a million times before.
Today, we’re tackling “King Kong,” a movie that’s as big and clumsy as the ape himself. The story, well, it’s about this oversized gorilla who gets snatched from his home only to wreak havoc in New York City. But let’s face it, the real havoc is the mess of direction, screenplay, and the laughable attempt at acting. It’s a spectacle of the worst kind.
ROGER EBERT: Oh, come off it, Gene. Your critique is as oversized and clumsy as you claim the ape to be. But since we’re diving into this, let’s talk about the so-called spectacular direction. Merian C. Cooper seemed to think swinging the camera around like a racquetball was an artistic vision. And the screenplay? It’s as if they thought, “Why not let the actors ad-lib half the movie? It’s only dialogue, who cares if it makes sense?”
GENE SISKEL: Roger, your taste is as questionable as ever, but I agree. The direction had as much subtlety as a sledgehammer. And that screenplay—calling it a sleep aid would be a compliment. It’s a wonder the actors could deliver their lines without falling asleep.
ROGER EBERT: Speaking of the actors, let’s not pretend there were any standout performances. It was a parade of mediocrity. Sure, there were a couple of bright spots where Bruce Cabot almost convinced me he was more than just a pretty face. But overall, it was like watching paint dry, if the paint was also overacting.
GENE SISKEL: Overacting? That’s generous, Roger. It was more underacting if they were acting at all. And let’s not get started on the cinematography and technical execution. It’s as if they confused “special effects” with “let’s see how fake we can make this look.” It was a visual assault on anyone who appreciates the art of filmmaking.
ROGER EBERT: Oh, please, Gene. The technical side wasn’t all bad. There were moments of genuine brilliance—fleeting, yes, but present. It’s just a shame those moments were buried under a mountain of poor decisions and even worse execution.
GENE SISKEL: Artistic merit and innovation were as absent as your sense of humor, Roger. This film could have pushed boundaries and explored new territories. Instead, it chose to play it safe, trotting out the same tired tropes we’ve seen a thousand times.
ROGER EBERT: And yet, for all its faults, there’s something undeniably compelling about “King Kong.” Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of its ambition, even if that ambition is often misplaced. I’ll give it a reluctant Thumbs Up for effort if nothing else.
GENE SISKEL: A Thumbs Up? That’s as absurd as the film itself. It’s a Thumbs Down from me, Roger. This movie is a testament to wasted potential, a colossal misstep that could have been so much more.
Well, there you have it, folks. Another spirited debate, as always. Tune in next week when we’ll dissect “The Godfather,” a film that promises to offer a much richer topic for our discussion. It’ll be a show you won’t want to miss.
The Ten Commandments
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today, we’re taking a look at “The Ten Commandments,” a biblical spectacle that tries to tell the grand story of Moses leading the Hebrews out of Egyptian slavery. While the film attempts to dazzle with its epic scale, it falls short in delivering anything beyond surface-level drama and cheap spectacle. It’s as if the director thought unleashing a plague of locusts was enough to carry the entire movie.
ROGER EBERT: Oh, Gene, only you could miss the forest for the trees. Sure, “The Ten Commandments” has its grandiose moments, but let’s talk about the direction. The director himself might as well have been parting the Red Sea with how heavy-handed the storytelling was. It’s like, “Look at me, I can command an army of extras and use an overhead crane shot.” Big deal. The pacing was as sluggish as the Israelites wandering aimlessly through the desert.
GENE SISKEL: Speaking of heavy-handed, Roger, your critique is about as subtle as a massive infestation of frogs. But since we’re on the topic, the screenplay was a patchwork of biblical verses and Hollywood cheese. It’s like they were trying to win an Oscar for “Most Dialogue Delivered with a Straight Face.” And the acting? Charlton Heston as Moses was more wooden than the staff he carried.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, I think you’re confusing “wooden” with “commanding.” But let’s not gloss over the supporting cast, who seemed to be competing for who could overact the most. And the cinematography and technical execution? Please. The film looked like someone discovered Technicolor and special effects for the first time and decided to use all of them, all at once.
GENE SISKEL: That’s rich, coming from you, Roger, a man who appreciates subtlety as much as a tornado in a trailer park. Yet, I must admit, the film’s artistic merit is buried somewhere beneath its overblown spectacle. It tried to innovate with its visuals, but ended up feeling like a Sunday school lesson on steroids.
ROGER EBERT: Artistic merit? The only thing innovative about “The Ten Commandments” was its ability to turn a profound story into a boring melodrama. As for its philosophical opinions, it’s about as deep as a puddle in the Sinai Desert. But, Gene, let’s not forget the real question here: does it push any boundaries? Hardly. It’s as revolutionary as matzo bread.
GENE SISKEL: Well, Roger, it seems we’re at an impasse, as usual. But if we must talk thumbs, I’d say “The Ten Commandments” gets a reluctant thumbs up for its ambition, even if it’s as misguided as Moses without a GPS.
ROGER EBERT: Ambition? More like ambition lost in the wilderness. It’s a thumbs down from me, Gene. The film is a testament to excess, not excellence.
And there you have it, folks. Tune in next week when we’ll be dissecting “The Godfather,” a film that promises to offer a bit more to chew on than today’s biblical fare. Don’t miss it—it’ll be a show you won’t want to miss.
The Wizard of Oz
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, and this is Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times. You’re watching “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert,” and today, we’re skewering “The Wizard of Oz.” This film, draped in the nostalgia of generations, takes young Dorothy and her dog Toto, from a Kansas farmhouse to a land beyond imagination, where she meets friends lacking brains, heart, and courage, battling witches and seeking wizards on her quest to return home. A tale of wonder? Perhaps, but beneath its glossy exterior lies a myriad of issues.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, your cynicism could cloud even the sunniest day in Oz. “The Wizard of Oz” is a marvel of its time, capturing hearts with its timeless story and pioneering visuals. But since you’re eager to tear it down, let’s start with Victor Fleming’s direction—innovative, not aimless. His vision brought a fantasy to life in a way that was unheard of.
GENE SISKEL: Innovative? Roger, it’s as if Fleming mistook ‘direction’ for ‘diversion.’ The story meanders like an inebriated Dorothy, staggering down the yellow brick road, lost without a compass. It’s a visual feast, sure, but the narrative coherence is as absent as the Scarecrow’s brain.
ROGER EBERT: A harsh take for a film that’s charmed millions, Gene. But since you mention the screenplay, let’s talk about it. It weaves a simple yet effective tapestry of themes—courage, love, intellect, and the quest for home. It’s not the Iliad, Gene, but it’s not trying to be. It speaks to the child in all of us.
GENE SISKEL: The child in us, Roger? Please, the screenplay stumbles over its own ambitions, turning potentially profound moments into pantomime. And the acting—let’s not even pretend Judy Garland and her motley crew deliver anything beyond surface-level performances.
ROGER EBERT: Are you kidding? Judy Garland’s Dorothy is an icon of resilience and hope. As for the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion, they bring warmth and humor. Their journey reflects our own insecurities and aspirations. But, I suppose, subtlety is lost on you.
GENE SISKEL: Subtlety? In “The Wizard of Oz”? That’s rich, coming from you, Roger. The film’s so-called “subtlety” is drowned out by its garish Technicolor and over-the-top set pieces. And don’t get me started on the ‘revolutionary’ effects. They’re as convincing as a cardboard cutout in a hurricane.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, those effects enchanted audiences and set a standard for fantasy films. But, I get it, you’re too busy being a critic to appreciate innovation. And as for artistic merit, “The Wizard of Oz” broke new ground, something I thought you respected.
GENE SISKEL: Broke new ground? More like broke the promise of what film could be—a medium for both spectacle and storytelling. It leans too heavily on the former, neglecting the latter. And for that, it’s a “Thumbs Down” from me.
ROGER EBERT: Well, Gene, for its heart, its courage, and its brains, it’s a “Thumbs Up” from me. “The Wizard of Oz” remains a testament to the power of film to transport us to worlds beyond our imagination.
Next week, we tackle “Gone with the Wind.” Let’s see if there’s any common ground to be found there.
Titanic
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today, we’re diving into the depths of “Titanic,” James Cameron’s monumental disaster film. But let’s not kid ourselves; the only disaster here is how this movie drowns in its own melodrama. Overblown sets, a love story that’s as soggy as a wet blanket, and don’t get me started on the pacing. It’s like watching paint dry, if the paint were on the side of an iceberg.
ROGER EBERT: Oh, Gene, your cynicism could sink ships faster than an iceberg. But you’re not entirely wrong. Let me tell you the thing about “Titanic”—it’s a spectacle, sure. But Cameron’s direction? It’s like he’s steering the Titanic itself with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Yes, he makes the camera swoosh and tilt, but where’s the soul? It’s all visual pomp with no narrative circumstance.
GENE SISKEL: Direction aside, Roger, let’s not paddle around the screenplay. It’s like Cameron found a history book and a teenage diary and couldn’t decide which to plagiarize. Every line feels crafted to be as memorable as my last dentist appointment.
ROGER EBERT: And the acting! Let’s talk about Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. Sure, they had moments where they weren’t just glorified props. Winslet shows more depth than the ocean they’re floating on, and DiCaprio, well, he was there, wasn’t he? But let’s not pretend these were groundbreaking performances. It’s like praising a lifeguard for swimming.
GENE SISKEL: Speaking of swimming, let’s dive into the cinematography and technical execution. I’ll give it this—the film looks good. Cameron knows how to make a scene pretty, even if it’s just a glorified sinking ship. The special effects were the real stars of the show, not that it’s saying much.
ROGER EBERT: Artistic merit and innovation, though, Gene? It’s like finding a lifeboat in a sea of mediocrity. Sure, “Titanic” broke box office records, but does it do anything new? It’s a retelling of a story we all know with expensive visuals. Groundbreaking? Hardly. It’s more like meticulously repackaging the past for easy consumption.
GENE SISKEL: Then there’s the philosophical drivel. Cameron seems to think he’s making some profound statement on human nature, class division, love, and tragedy. But it’s about as deep as a teaspoon of water. Thumbs down from me. It’s a cinematic spectacle that’s too busy being in love with its reflection to notice it’s sinking.
ROGER EBERT: Thumbs down for me too, Gene. “Titanic” might be unsinkable in terms of revenue, but in terms of storytelling and innovation, it hit the iceberg head-on.
Wrapping up, our bickering might be more entertaining than “Titanic.” But don’t let our clash of opinions stop you from tuning in next week. We’ll be tackling “The Big Lebowski”—it’ll be a show you won’t want to miss.
Gone with the Wind
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today we’re enduring “Gone with the Wind,” a film that’s essentially a masterclass in overindulgence. If you like your historical epics with a heavy dose of melodrama and a runtime that rivals actual wars, then, by all means, this is your film.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, your lack of appreciation for classic cinema is staggering. “Gone with the Wind” isn’t just a film; it’s an epic journey through the American South. But I wouldn’t expect someone who considers popcorn the pinnacle of film cuisine to understand its nuances.
GENE SISKEL: Epic journey? More like a slog through quicksand. And speaking of nuance, Victor Fleming’s direction is as subtle as a sledgehammer. I’m surprised he didn’t just film a parade float of the Old South and call it a day.
ROGER EBERT: A sledgehammer? Fleming paints a picture of an era with the finesse of a master. But discussing finesse with you is like trying to explain quantum physics to a cat. And the screenplay—Mitchell’s novel turned into a film that captures every emotion, every struggle. I suppose you’d prefer a Twitter thread for brevity?
GENE SISKEL: Emotion? Struggle? The only struggle here is sitting through four hours of Scarlett’s pining and Rhett’s smirking. And let’s not elevate the acting beyond what it is. Leigh and Gable are icons, sure, but the film’s reliance on stereotypes rather than characters is as outdated as its views on the South.
ROGER EBERT: Pining and smirking? That’s an oversimplification of complex characters navigating love and war. But oversimplification is your specialty, isn’t it, Gene? As for the cinematography, it’s revolutionary. The use of color, the framing—each shot is a masterpiece. But you probably think Instagram filters are the height of photographic achievement.
GENE SISKEL: It’s a Technicolor yawn, Roger. And speaking of Instagram, at least there I can scroll past the boring parts. Innovation? The only thing this film innovated was audience patience.
ROGER EBERT: The only thing testing my patience is your cynicism. “Gone with the Wind” is a landmark of artistic merit. It’s a sweeping narrative that set the bar for every historical epic that followed. But trying to discuss art with you is like playing Mozart for a tone-deaf hedgehog.
GENE SISKEL: Landmark of artistic merit? It’s a landmark of excess and outdated ideology. But go ahead, Roger, bask in its antiquated glory. Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down?
ROGER EBERT: Without hesitation, Thumbs Up for “Gone with the Wind.” It’s a monumental piece of American cinema.
GENE SISKEL: And it’s a resolute Thumbs Down from me. Monumental, perhaps, but as a monument to all its era’s worst excesses.
ROGER EBERT: Well, viewers, there you have it. Tune in next week when we tackle “The Wizard of Oz.” Another timeless classic Gene will no doubt find too joyful.
Forrest Gump
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today, we’re dissecting “Forrest Gump,” a film that’s as simple as its lead character. It’s a whimsical journey through American history, seen through the eyes of a man with a low IQ. But honestly, the real simplicity here is thinking this saccharine story passes for profound cinema.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, your heart must be smaller than Gump’s IQ if you can’t see the beauty in this film. Directed by Robert Zemeckis, it’s an epic tale that combines drama, comedy, and romance with a finesse that apparently flew right over your cynical head.
GENE SISKEL: Finesse? More like it clumsily stumbles through decades of history, tripping over its own attempt to be meaningful. And let’s talk about the screenplay, shall we? It’s like they threw every significant event from the ’60s to the ’80s at a wall to see what sticks. Gump meeting presidents and stumbling into historical moments? A child’s view of history, Roger.
ROGER EBERT: Ah, but Forrest Gump is no ordinary child’s view, Gene. It’s a cleverly crafted narrative that brings a fresh perspective to pivotal moments in American history. The screenplay is witty, touching, and insightful. You’d know that if you weren’t so busy nitpicking.
GENE SISKEL: Insightful? It’s as deep as a puddle! And the acting—while Tom Hanks delivers a remarkable performance as Forrest, it’s like you’re so enamored by his charm that you overlook the film’s glaring flaws.
ROGER EBERT: Remarkable is an understatement. Hanks brings Forrest to life with a nuanced performance that’s both heartwarming and convincing. It’s a portrayal that transcends the film’s so-called “glaring flaws” you’re so obsessed with.
GENE SISKEL: Nuanced? It’s a one-note sappy melody, Roger. And don’t get me started on the cinematography and technical execution. Yes, Zemeckis uses cutting-edge technology to insert Gump into historical footage, but it’s a gimmick that grows old fast.
ROGER EBERT: Old? It’s innovative! The cinematography and special effects are groundbreaking, seamlessly blending Forrest into history. It’s storytelling magic, something I thought you, of all people, would appreciate.
GENE SISKEL: Magic? More like smoke and mirrors. And as for artistic merit and innovation, “Forrest Gump” is content to play it safe, rehashing familiar tropes under the guise of originality.
ROGER EBERT: This film pushes the boundaries of traditional storytelling, offering a unique take on history, love, and destiny. Its artistic merit lies in its ability to tell a universal story through the eyes of someone extraordinary in his simplicity.
GENE SISKEL: Universal or universally overrated? But fine, let’s see where your delusions take you. Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down, Roger?
ROGER EBERT: Delusions? I call it insight, Gene. “Forrest Gump” gets a resounding Thumbs Up for its storytelling, innovation, and Hanks’ unforgettable performance.
GENE SISKEL: And in the spirit of our never-ending debate, I give it a Thumbs Down. It’s a manipulative, overly sentimental piece that mistakes nostalgia for narrative depth.
ROGER EBERT: Agree to disagree, Gene. But folks, don’t miss our next cinematic adventure.
Yes, tune in next week when we review “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” It’ll be a show you won’t want to miss, as we continue our quest to find a film we both actually agree on.
The Sound of Music
Hello, everyone. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert with the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today, we’re diving into the beloved classic, “The Sound of Music,” a film that’s been warbling its way into hearts for decades, but let me tell you, it’s no symphony of cinematic brilliance. This saccharine tale of nuns, Nazis, and singing children may have captured the zeitgeist of its time, but upon closer inspection, it’s as shallow as a puddle after a drizzle.
ROGER EBERT: Oh, Gene, always the cynic. But let’s not kid ourselves, folks. “The Sound of Music” is about as fresh as week-old bread. It’s like being force-fed a spoonful of sugar when you’re diabetic. Sure, it’s got its catchy tunes and picturesque Alps, but beneath all that charm lies a story so saccharine, it’ll give you cavities.
GENE SISKEL: Oh, come off it, Roger. You’re just bitter because you can’t carry a tune in a bucket. But let’s talk about direction. Robert Wise may have had a few Oscars under his belt, but his handling of this film is as clunky as a toddler in tap shoes. The pacing is about as graceful as a hippo in a tutu.
ROGER EBERT: Wise may have been wiser to leave this one on the cutting room floor. The direction lacks finesse, Gene. It’s like he’s conducting a cacophony of clichés, with every shot feeling as staged as a high school musical. And don’t get me started on the screenplay. It’s as flat as a pancake left out in the rain.
GENE SISKEL: Oh, please, Roger. You’re just upset because you didn’t get cast as Liesl. But let’s talk about the acting. Julie Andrews may have a voice like an angel, but her performance here is about as nuanced as a sledgehammer. And Christopher Plummer? He’s as wooden as a forest after a fire.
ROGER EBERT: Wooden? Coming from you, Gene, that’s rich. But let’s not overlook the cinematography and technical execution. Sure, the hills may be alive with the sound of music, but the camerawork is as static as a statue. And those special effects? About as special as a soggy biscuit.
GENE SISKEL: Oh, Roger, always so eager to rain on everyone’s parade. But let’s not forget about artistic merit and innovation. “The Sound of Music” may have been groundbreaking in its day, but in today’s landscape, it’s about as innovative as a rotary phone. It’s time to retire this old warhorse and make way for something fresh.
ROGER EBERT: Ah, Gene, the eternal pessimist. But let’s face it, folks. “The Sound of Music” is like a relic from a bygone era. It’s time to bid farewell to this tired old tune and make way for something with a bit more substance. So, what’s the verdict, Gene?
GENE SISKEL: Thumbs down, Roger. “The Sound of Music” may have its nostalgic charm, but it’s as out of tune as a kazoo at a symphony.
Be sure to tune in next week, folks, when we tackle another cinematic masterpiece or disaster. Don’t miss our take on “The Big Lebowski”—it’ll be a show you won’t want to miss.
The Shawshank Redemption
GENE SISKEL: Hello, I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, alongside Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’ve unfortunately stumbled upon “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert.” Today’s sacrificial lamb is “The Shawshank Redemption,” a film that’s about as enlightening as a flashlight with dead batteries. It’s a story about hope in Shawshank State Penitentiary, or as I see it, an excuse to parade every prison stereotype in the cinematic book.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, your cynicism could darken the sun. Frank Darabont’s direction brings a depth to this film that your shallow analysis could never fathom. It’s compelling, visually striking, and packed with emotional depth—qualities you might appreciate if you ever looked beyond the surface.
GENE SISKEL: Depth? If by depth, you mean as deep as a puddle in the Sahara, then sure, Roger. The screenplay, lifted from Stephen King’s work, feels like Darabont was ticking off prison drama clichés. I’m surprised you didn’t find it groundbreaking, considering your fondness for mistaking the mundane for the profound.
ROGER EBERT: Ah, Gene, always playing the contrarian. Let’s talk about something you can’t possibly dispute—the acting. Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman turn in performances that are nothing short of stellar. Freeman’s Red is an anchor, not just to Andy but to the entire film. I dare you to belittle their contributions.
GENE SISKEL: Stellar? More like a faint glimmer in an otherwise dim sky. Sure, Robbins and Freeman do what they can, but it’s like praising the chef for a meal when all he did was microwave the dinner. And before you accuse me of culinary blasphemy, let’s not pretend the rest of the cast isn’t just background noise to these two.
ROGER EBERT: Your palate wouldn’t know gourmet if it was served on a silver platter, Gene. But since we’re dissecting, let’s carve into the cinematography and technical execution. The film’s visual language is poetry in motion. It captures the essence of Shawshank’s oppressive atmosphere, something I thought even you might appreciate.
GENE SISKEL: Poetry in motion? I didn’t realize we were at a ballet, Roger. Sure, the cinematography has its moments, but let’s not act as if we’ve discovered a lost art form. It serves its purpose, nothing more, nothing less.
ROGER EBERT: It’s clear, Gene, that your purpose today is to play the curmudgeon. But on artistic merit and innovation, “The Shawshank Redemption” transcends its genre, offering a meditation on freedom and the human spirit. It’s a narrative triumph that you dismiss at your peril.
GENE SISKEL: Meditation on freedom? I think the only thing that’s freed is my time, knowing I’ll never get back the hours spent watching it. Its so-called narrative triumph is as predictable as your overzealous praise.
ROGER EBERT: And yet, amidst your relentless barrage of negativity, I find ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ to be a beacon of cinematic excellence—a Thumbs Up for its enduring message and impeccable execution.
GENE SISKEL: A beacon of excellence? More like a lighthouse warning us of the rocky shores ahead. It earns a Thumbs Down from me, for failing to deliver anything beyond a well-worn path through the prison genre.
ROGER EBERT: It seems, Gene, our eternal debate rages on. But fear not, viewers, for next week we tackle ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail.’ Perhaps Gene will find the humor he so desperately lacks.
GENE SISKEL: Humor, Roger, is knowing we have to do this all over again. Tune in next week, folks, if you dare.
Castaway
Hello. I’m Gene Siskel from the Chicago Tribune, along with Roger Ebert with the Chicago Sun-Times, and you’re “At the Movies with Siskel and Ebert” like it’s some big surprise we haven’t seen a million times before.
Today, we’re tackling “Castaway,” a film that somehow manages to turn a gripping survival story into a drawn-out FedEx commercial. Our man Tom Hanks spends more time talking to a volleyball than delivering any real emotional depth, leaving us wondering if the real castaway isn’t the audience, stranded in their seats.
ROGER EBERT: Gene, I think you’re being too generous calling it a FedEx commercial. That implies it delivers, which “Castaway” certainly does not. Let’s dive into the direction. Robert Zemeckis thinks swiveling the camera around Tom Hanks and his bearded buddy Wilson constitutes cinematic genius. Please. The man has confused motion sickness with emotion.
GENE SISKEL: That’s rich, Roger, coming from someone who probably thinks the screenplay’s endless monologues to a volleyball represent the pinnacle of human drama. The story limps along like it’s got a splinter that it can’t quite reach, never deciding if it wants to be a tale of survival or an extended metaphor for loneliness and FedEx’s global reach.
ROGER EBERT: Speaking of limping, let’s not forget the acting. Hanks might carry the film on his back, but it’s a thankless task, like being the only sober person at a party. He oscillates between despair and madness with the finesse of a sledgehammer. And let’s not even get started on Wilson’s performance—clearly a case of typecasting.
GENE SISKEL: Oh, come on, Roger. At least Wilson kept his lines crisp. But if we’re discussing technical execution, the film’s cinematography is as stranded as its protagonist. Sure, there are pretty sunsets, but it’s like putting lipstick on a pig. The film is visually stunning in the same way a postcard is—nice to look at but ultimately shallow.
ROGER EBERT: Shallow? That’s the screenplay. It’s as if they found the first draft in a bottle washed ashore and decided, “Yep, good enough for us.” Innovation? The only boundary it pushes is the audience’s patience. And as for artistic merit, if by “art” you mean painstakingly detailing the many uses of FedEx products in a survival scenario, then sure, it’s a masterpiece.
GENE SISKEL: I knew you’d find a way to admire its commercialism. As for philosophical depth, “Castaway” wades in the kiddie pool, masquerading existential angst with beachside chats with a volleyball. Profound or pretentious? It’s like choosing between a sunburn and a mosquito bite—either way, it’s irritating.
ROGER EBERT: Profound irritation, indeed. But here comes the moment of truth. My verdict? Thumbs down. “Castaway” drifts aimlessly in a sea of its own making, a cinematic S.O.S. that sadly, no one should bother answering.
GENE SISKEL: And with a heavy heart but little surprise, I too must go thumbs down. “Castaway” is a shipwreck of potential, leaving us all stranded with disappointment.
Tune in next week, folks, when we dive into “The Godfather”—a film that, unlike “Castaway,” knows how to deliver a message. Don’t miss it.
