The Maverick Critic: Roger Ebert’s Unlikely Love for *Hollywood Homicide*
There’s something deeply satisfying about a critic who refuses to play by the rules. Roger Ebert was that critic. While most reviewers were busy trashing Hollywood Homicide, Ebert sat back, smiled, and gave it three out of four stars. Personally, I think this says more about Ebert than it does about the film. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Ebert’s take wasn’t just a contrarian move—it was a genuine appreciation for something others couldn’t see. In a world where critical consensus often feels like groupthink, Ebert’s willingness to stand alone is a breath of fresh air.
Why Ebert’s Take Matters
Let’s be clear: Hollywood Homicide is no masterpiece. It’s a buddy-cop comedy with a lukewarm script, a meandering plot, and Harrison Ford looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. But Ebert saw something in it—something others missed. In my opinion, what Ebert loved wasn’t the film itself but the potential in its flaws. He praised Ford’s grumpy performance, calling it ‘gruffly likable,’ and found charm in the film’s focus on its characters over its plot. This raises a deeper question: Do we judge films too harshly for what they’re not instead of appreciating what they are?
Harrison Ford: The Grumpy Straight Man
One thing that immediately stands out is Ford’s performance. Critics called it ‘lugubrious’ and ‘humorless,’ but Ebert saw it as a masterclass in deadpan delivery. Personally, I think Ford’s grumpiness was the film’s saving grace. It wasn’t just a character trait—it was a meta-commentary on his own career at the time. Here was a man who had defined action hero roles in the 80s and 90s, now playing a cop who seemed as tired of the gig as Ford himself might have been. What many people don’t realize is that Ford’s comedic timing, which later shone in Shrinking, was already there, just waiting for the right lens to capture it.
The Buddy-Cop Dynamic: A Tired Trope or a Hidden Gem?
The pairing of Ford and Josh Hartnett as mismatched cops felt like a cliché, but Ebert found it endearing. From my perspective, this speaks to Ebert’s ability to find joy in the familiar. He didn’t need innovation—he just needed authenticity. The film’s dialogue, which other critics dismissed as dull, was for Ebert a highlight. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a reminder that sometimes the simplest things—like two actors bouncing off each other—can make a film work, even if the script is a mess.
Ebert’s Legacy: The Critic as Maverick
What this really suggests is that Ebert wasn’t just a critic—he was a storyteller. He saw films as living, breathing entities, not just products to be dissected. His love for Hollywood Homicide wasn’t about ignoring its flaws but about celebrating its quirks. In a world where criticism often feels like a sport, Ebert’s approach was refreshingly human. A detail that I find especially interesting is how his reviews often felt like conversations, not judgments. He didn’t just tell you what to think—he invited you to think with him.
The Broader Lesson: Why We Need More Ebert-Like Critics
If there’s one takeaway from Ebert’s defense of Hollywood Homicide, it’s this: We need more critics who are willing to see the forest for the trees. Films aren’t just about technical perfection or plot coherence—they’re about moments, performances, and the intangible magic that sometimes happens on screen. Personally, I think Ebert’s review of this film is a masterclass in how to appreciate art without losing sight of its humanity.
Final Thoughts
Hollywood Homicide will never be a classic, but Ebert’s review of it will always be a classic example of thoughtful criticism. It’s a reminder that even in the most unlikely places, there’s something worth loving. And in a world where everyone seems to agree on what’s ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ Ebert’s maverick spirit feels more important than ever. As I reflect on his take, I’m reminded that the best critics don’t just tell us what to think—they teach us how to see.
