Nana Muazin
In the landscape of 20th-century film criticism, few voices carried the weight, authority, and genuine affection of Roger Ebert. A man whose career was defined by an unrepentant, infectious love for the medium, Ebert often found himself at odds with the growing cynicism of the industry. In 2012, responding to accusations that he was a "pushover" who handed out too many four-star ratings, Ebert offered a disarmingly simple defense: "I like movies too much."
Ebert’s relationship with science fiction was particularly complex. As a teenager in Urbana, Illinois, he founded his own sci-fi fanzine, Stymie, and was an active participant in the literary community of the genre. He did not merely watch science fiction; he engaged with it as a lifelong enthusiast. While he was famously ruthless toward blockbuster failures—such as his scathing takedown of the 1998 disaster flick Armageddon—he possessed a unique capacity for intellectual growth. Several of his most iconic "perfect" reviews were not instantaneous reactions, but rather the result of years, sometimes decades, of reconsideration.
The Chronology of Re-evaluation
Ebert’s trajectory as a critic was marked by his willingness to admit when his initial assessment was flawed. For many of the films on this list, the "perfect" rating was not bestowed upon their theatrical release, but rather during his later "Great Movies" series. This shift illustrates a fundamental truth about cinema: certain films are so ahead of their time that they require the audience—and the critic—to catch up. From the silent era’s Metropolis to the cerebral hauntings of Tarkovsky, Ebert’s journey toward these perfect scores provides a masterclass in how critical appreciation evolves alongside personal maturity and the shifting tides of technological progress.
The Films: A Study in Perfection
1. Dark City (1998)
Alex Proyas’ Dark City arrived during a pivotal moment in sci-fi history, caught in the shadow of the burgeoning Matrix phenomenon. The film follows John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell), a man who awakens in a hotel bathtub with no memory and a mounting body count. He soon discovers his reality is a construct, manipulated by pale, parasitic entities known as the "Strangers."
Ebert was arguably the film’s greatest champion. He was fascinated by its central ontological question: "If we are the sum of all that has happened to us, then what are we when nothing has happened to us?" His review was so thorough that he revealed he and other film scholars spent four days at the Hawaii Film Festival deconstructing the movie "a shot at a time." Ebert ultimately declared it "one of the great modern films," famously noting that it achieved the philosophical depth The Matrix aspired to, but with more soul and visual ambition.
2. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)
The path to A.I. was fraught with historical weight. Originating from a project Stanley Kubrick had held for decades, the film was finally brought to fruition by Steven Spielberg after Kubrick’s passing. Upon its initial 2001 release, Ebert gave it three stars, finding the ending emotionally manipulative rather than intellectually resonant.
However, a decade later, Ebert revisited the film and upgraded it to a perfect four-star rating. His retrospective analysis captured the core of the film’s tragedy: it was never meant to be a human story, but rather a cold, profound look at the limitations of programming. "A.I. is not about humans at all," he wrote. "It is about the dilemma of artificial intelligence." In an era where AI-driven content is now a standard, albeit contentious, part of our daily lives, Ebert’s corrected assessment feels more prescient than ever.
3. Blade Runner (1982)
Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner is perhaps the most famous example of a film "rehabilitated" by time. Originally a box-office disappointment that received mixed reviews for being "all style, no substance," the film was criticized by many—including Ebert—for allowing its production design to overwhelm its narrative.
In 2007, 25 years after his original review, Ebert sat down with Scott’s Final Cut. He did not hide from his past errors. Instead, he wrote, "I have been assured that my problems in the past with Blade Runner represent a failure of my own taste and imagination." By finally awarding it four stars, Ebert acknowledged the film’s status as a seminal work that fundamentally altered the visual vocabulary of science fiction. It remains a testament to the idea that a masterpiece might need to wait for its audience to grow into it.
4. Alien (1979)
When Ridley Scott’s Alien was released, it was largely treated as a B-movie creature feature. Even the legendary duo of Siskel and Ebert initially dismissed it on their show as an "intergalactic haunted house thriller."
However, as the decades passed, the sheer technical mastery and psychological density of Alien became impossible to ignore. In 2003, Ebert revisited the film for his "Great Movies" collection. He lauded it for avoiding the "space opera" tropes of Star Wars in favor of "hard" science fiction. He praised its dark, frightening intensity, noting how it vibrated with a visceral dread that few other films have managed to replicate. By placing Alien in his personal pantheon, Ebert helped cement its legacy as one of the most influential films in cinematic history.
5. Solaris (1972)
Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris is often cited as the antithesis of the Hollywood sci-fi epic. Slow, contemplative, and deeply metaphysical, it tells the story of a psychologist sent to a space station orbiting a planet that manifests the repressed memories of its inhabitants.
Ebert’s journey with Solaris began at the 1972 Chicago Film Festival, where he was initially bored by its deliberate pacing. He gave it three stars, but admitted he was "balking." By 2003, his perspective had shifted entirely. He began to view Tarkovsky’s "long, slow" takes not as a hindrance, but as an opportunity for the viewer to process their own life experiences. His retrospective review wasn’t just a critique; it was a meditation on the nature of art itself. He concluded that the film was, in fact, perfect, because it functioned as a mirror for the viewer’s own soul.
Implications for Modern Criticism
The critical history of these five films serves as a vital lesson in the longevity of art. Roger Ebert’s legacy is defined not by his infallibility, but by his malleability. He understood that a critic’s job is not to provide a final, static judgment, but to participate in an ongoing conversation with the work.
In today’s digital landscape, where the "Rotten Tomatoes" binary often reduces complex films to a simple percentage, Ebert’s approach offers a much-needed alternative. The "perfect" rating, in his view, was not a badge of commercial success, but a mark of a film that continued to give back to the audience every time they returned to it.
Conclusion
Whether it was the existential dread of Blade Runner or the emotional programming of A.I., Ebert’s four-star selections highlight a specific type of sci-fi: one that dares to ask what it means to be human. By revisiting these films, Ebert proved that criticism is a living process. He taught us that it is never too late to change one’s mind, provided the work of art is deep enough to warrant that second look. As we look toward the future of science fiction, we would do well to follow his lead: watch with an open heart, think with a critical mind, and never be afraid to admit when a film has finally, truly, moved you.
Evan Lee Salim
Lina Hope
