The following was written by Ebertfest correspondent Colleen Loggins.

When I signed up to report on the movie “Underworld” for this year’s Ebertfest, I thought, sweet I love vampire movies and I like Kate Beckinsale. This should be fun! But that Roger Ebert is a tricky little fellow.
“Underworld” is actually a film from 1927 about American gangsters. A silent film. When I finally figured that out, I was a little nervous to watch it. I was also a little concerned that the special guests were merely members of an orchestra.
Oh how wrong I was to be concerned. While it was definitely a new experience to actually sit through an entire silent film, the Alloy Orchestra made it an enjoyable one. The three man orchestra used a variety of different instruments to create a musical score that made dialog unnecessary. Right away, the orchestra made me jump out of my seat when they created a loud explosion noise set to the scene of a bank heist. They were also able to capture the mood of the film which they later admitted was tricky because the film is not really a “shoot ‘em up” gangster movie, and is more of a psychological drama.
I was also surprised at the depth of the film and the fact that it was a psychological drama. I thought it would be hard to convey complex emotions without words and that there would be over-the-top acting, but the subtleties were impressive.
After the first explosion, I forgot that the orchestra was even there because they scored the film so well, and I got caught up in watching what was happening on screen.
It was also fun to take in the atmosphere at the gorgeous Virginia Theatre. There were so many people there, which was surprising to me at first (again, silent film), and all of the people seemed to be huge movie buffs who knew what were seemingly random facts about movies I had never even heard of before. It was very interesting to hear what some of them had to say, and if you have never been to Ebertfest before, you really should give it a try. It might even make you have a whole new appreciation for a genre you would have never watched before the festival.

The following was written by Ebertfest correspondent Tim Peters.

“Presently the discourse fell upon ‘feuds,’ for in no part of the South has the vendetta flourished more briskly, or held out longer between warring families, than in this particular region.”

-Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi
As he rode down the Mississippi, Mark Twain came across a man who told him of a feud between the Darnells and the Watsons. They forgot why the families started fighting – “Some says it was about a horse or a cow” – but whenever they met, they would shoot to kill. The Darnells lost, the last three heirs to the family picked off in a steamboat holdup.

This kind of chivalric senselessness, this proud, unending violence, is something I expect of a family feud. Something like the Montagues and the Capulets – so much unreasonable group hatred that it sprouts tangles of fate and tragedy. Of course, there are lighter variations – like Gogol’s The Squabble between Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich or the Simpsons against the Flanders, in which insults (“goose”) or contests (miniature golf) replace bloodshed.

Shotgun Stories – the opening Friday film of Ebertfest – wanted to tell of a serious and tragic southern feud, but more often felt like the anecdote Twain heard, making you cringe, shake your head, and forget about it. Director Jeff Nichols set the feud in Arkansas, near his hometown of Little Rock. He said in an introduction that, “It was real important for the film to show this place and these people as I saw it growing up.”

Nichols’ plot grows from the standard soil of independent films: the broken family. Three brothers – Boy, Kid, and Son – learn of their father’s death. He was an alcoholic and left them with a brutal mother, who actually seems quite congenial in her few scenes. Daddy started a new family, quit the drink, and found Jesus. The boys crash the funeral, starting a feud with their half-brothers.

Nichols tries to be laconic in dialogue – his characters speaking in terse monosyllables – and in photography – his camera gazes at the cotton fields and the silos, at Main Street and at the trailer park. Much of it evokes the Coen brothers’ No Country for Old Men.

However, it was a languorous beginning to a day of four films, evidenced by the man to my left who dozed off, and the one to my right who was checking his PDA. To tell a slow, measured story – as Nichols seemed to want – gives us time to look at the characters, to sense them as real people. This is a problem, though, when the characters either seem improbable or, worse, predictable, such as the brother who looks as out-of-shape as comedian Artie Lang, yet is a basketball coach, or the college student half-brother who, when he can’t fix a tractor, is told he isn’t taught anything at “that school”.

In his discussion after the film, Nichols stressed how he wanted to portray a place and people he knew. He also – inadvertently – revealed why this movie, despite it’s attempt at authenticity, felt hackneyed and forced. He said that, while he knew the town, the plot was foreign: “My family loves me, there the ones that helped me make this movie.”

Nichols may know the vernacular of the south, but it won’t help him write the words of murder and abandonment and revenge. After the film, the audience applauded warmly and the interviewers gave praise. My main thought while watching was: when are they going to get the shotguns?

Deceiving and manipulative as the “bad guy” in many of his films, Rufus Sewell is nothing but charming in real life. While buying water and waiting outside of The Virginia Theatre for the movie “Yes” to start, Illini Media Company Ebertfest correspondent Stephanie Poquette ran into the actor best known for his roles in “A Knight’s Tale,” “Tristan and Isolde” and “The Illusionist.” Politely agreeing to pictures and autographs, he was a crowd favorite. But, that didn’t stop one Virginia Theatre  worker from kicking him out for not having his VIP pass.

IMC: What brings you to Ebertfest this year?

RS:  Well, I came for my movie, “Hamlet,” even though I’ve seen it about a million times. This is my first time at the festival, and I am really enjoying it. I got straight off the plane and headed over here to sit and watch a four-hour movie (Hamlet), but I’ve also been watching some of the other films. 

IMC: So you just watched Tom Dicillo’s “Delirious,” what did you think? 

RS: I really enjoyed it. I’m a big fan of the directors. The performances were really good. It’s great to see a movie that addresses both the frenzy of being famous, and the frenzy to become famous. This is a dominant part of our culture (obsession with celebrities), and it’s interesting to see a movie that addresses the other side of it (what the paparazzi do). I also think Michael Pitt is just a wonderful actor.

IMC: You have been in a lot of period pieces.  Do you prefer acting in those types of movies?

RS: It’s not that I prefer or enjoy them; it’s just that you find scripts are quite unimaginative lately. If I find a period piece that I like, then fine, but I don’t have a preference for them. You also find that directors or people in the business are looking for certain people to play certain roles. I suppose I fit this role. But, as you can see from my dress, I am not that old fashion (laughs).

IMC: What movie or character did you enjoy working on the most?

RS: I really liked working on my latest film, “Vinyan.” It should be coming out next year.  But other than that I really enjoyed working on “Tristan and Isolde.” It was one of the times that I played a good guy, and I don’t regret that at all. 

IMC: Speaking of being the “good guy,” a lot of people would say that you always play “bad guys.” Do you gravitate towards these characters more?

RS: (Laughs) It’s not that I gravitate towards these characters. It’s just if I play a good guy, I guarantee that people won’t see the film.

IMC: Is there any director that you would like to work with?

RS: Well, I mean, there are all the obvious choices, but I would like to work with Mike Lee. And, I suppose I could give Scorsese a chance.

 The following was written by Ebertfest correspondent Dan Puzzo

At noon on Thursday the doors opened at the historic Virginia Theater in downtown Champaign. The first in the queue that wound around the block were welcomed to the 10^th annual Roger Ebert Film Festival, or Ebertfest. Nobody knew quite what to expect as the largely senior citizen crowd (this is a weekday afternoon, mind you) shuffled into the theater greeted by the peppy tunes of an organist.

 Most of the films in this festival are famously overlooked, and “Delirious,” a Tom DiCillo film initially released in 2006, is certainly no exception. Roger Ebert could not be in attendance due to numerous medical ailments, so his wife, Chaz, appeared onstage alone to introduce the film. After quickly welcoming the first audience of the day, Chaz exited the stage, the curtains were lifted and the film began to role.

“Delirious” deals with the coming together and growing apart of two lowlifes: Les (Steve Buscemi), a paparazzi who resists being identified as such (“I’m a licensed professional!”) and Toby (Michael Pitt), a young transient who volunteers to work for Les free of charge in order to get off the streets. The film is expertly cast, and one could easily devote an entire article to exploring the film’s intricacies, but suffice it to say “Delirious” takes a refreshingly mature look at matters like the bonds between men and the invisible pedestal that separates celebrities from the ordinary. While the themes may sound contrived, they are approached in a light rarely captured on the big screen.

Most impressively, the film was able to draw in all age elements of the audience and, thanks to strong comedic elements, laughter permeated the theater throughout the entire show. In fact, it has been quite a while since I’ve witnessed a theater audience so unified in their reaction to a film. The receptive audience made an already great experience all the better, and it’s unlikely any one person alone would have derived as much pleasure from the movie as the film devotees in the Virginia Theater got from the good vibrations of their peers.

Once the film ended and the roars of approval had died down, Chaz came back on stage with three golden “thumbs up” trophies for a post-film panel, which included director Tom DiCillo and Ebert’s fellow critic, Richard Roeper. Roeper opened up the discussion by analyzing the film from a critical perspective, and then handed the reigns to DiCillo, who elaborated on the 6-year-long struggle he went through to get this film made.

DiCillo was initially bitter about the lackluster distribution efforts behind the film, which had earned it an abysmal box office performance despite strong reviews. This is understandable, for nobody who has spent half a decade bringing a masterful film to theaters only to have next to nobody view it for reasons beyond their control could avoid feeling bitter. In fact, DiCillo was visibly disturbed when the panel’s discussion veered in the direction of the movie’s theatrical run and vowed to only discuss things in a positive light for the remainder of the session.

As the panel wrapped up its discussion and thunderous applause erupted from the audience one last time, DiCillo’s eyes grew misty and his voice began to waiver. At this point I understood the true magic of Ebertfest for the first time. Roger Ebert made it his mission to find an audience for great but ignored films, and as Tom DiCillo walked off stage, emotional but smiling, I realized Ebert had done it again. “Delirious” finally found its audience.