Roger Ebert loved nights like this—a movie, some snacks, and a quiet, relaxing evening, just him and his thoughts.
Movies, like bridges, connected his present to his memories and rippled across his understanding of life.
In moments like these, watching a film wasn't just work; it was also an opportunity to reflect on life and its intricacies.
Unexpectedly, after watching The Butterfly Effect, Roger found himself thinking of Yi Yi. Two vastly different films with no obvious similarities collided in his mind in an inexplicable way.
"Of course, I'm not saying The Butterfly Effect compares to Yi Yi," he clarified to himself. "But both films, in their distinct styles, touch on similar themes: deconstructing the essence of life.
The difference lies in perspective—one through the eyes of a seasoned middle-aged man, the other through a young, inexperienced lens.
Different, yet similar.
Just like life, where everyone has their interpretations and views, but no definitive answers.
Behind Yi Yi stands a masterful director, breathing life into film with wisdom and craftsmanship. Behind The Butterfly Effect, an actor serves as its heart and driving force: Anson Wood.
His performance isn't just the film's core; it's the energy propelling it forward, keeping its narrative alive.
In a script bursting with overwhelming drama and relentless twists, emotions are straightforward and immediate, leaving little room for subtleties. For any actor, grounding a character with depth and complexity in such a storm of information is a daunting challenge.
Yet, Anson accomplished it.
Undoubtedly, Anson had a profound grasp of both his character and the narrative. His structured, well-rounded approach ensured that every appearance was on point, seamlessly immersing the audience into the young man's turbulent world.
His portrayal balanced precision, emotional nuance, and layers of complexity, ensuring the character's edges and colors shone through even amidst the script's chaos. By the film's climax, audiences felt the shockwaves of the story's emotional crescendo.
His eyes conveyed an inexplicable, powerful intensity.
Undeniably, this was a side of Anson Wood never seen before.
Surrounding Anson was a strong supporting cast, whose grounded and professional performances anchored the film's larger-than-life drama back to reality. Rachel McAdams and Heath Ledger both delivered standout moments, enhancing the film's credibility.
The movie, admittedly, had room for refinement. Yet, Roger found himself haunted by a particular scene:
Standing outside the doctor's office, eavesdropping on a conversation between his mother and the doctor, the camera zooms in on the protagonist's eyes. In that moment, he makes a decision—one that changes his life forever. And he shows no fear.
Could the film have been better?
Absolutely, without a doubt.
Roger wouldn't deny it. But, as he often emphasized, the quality of a movie is relative. It's unnecessary to measure a popcorn flick against a masterpiece, just as it's pointless to compare a parody comedy to an awards-season drama.
Compared to Yi Yi, The Butterfly Effect falls significantly short—like an unfinished student project. But when placed next to the Scary Movie series, it's leaps ahead.
Interestingly, in terms of pure watchability, Roger found The Butterfly Effect more engaging than Elephant and comparable to Catch Me If You Can.
Movies are fascinating that way, aren't they?
Exhaling lightly and looking around, Roger decided he needed to get home quickly and jot down his thoughts before they faded.
Nearby, small groups of young people were enthusiastically chatting, their gestures animated. To them, 2 a.m. still felt like the night was young.
"...Three endings. I've seen three endings now, but I can't imagine there being any more."
"That's why you're not the writer or director."
"Hey! I'm serious. What other possibilities could there be?"
"I don't know—destroy everything, become a supervillain, use the journal to end the world and take everyone down with him."
"Haha, if that's true, that would be epic. I'd beg for a sequel."
"And then, he turns into some evil Spider-Man or something..."
"Haha, hahahaha."
Their laughter echoed boisterously in the cold night air.
"I'm planning to look for the other two endings tomorrow..."
"Hard. Didn't they say even the theaters don't know which version they're showing?"
"But the rumors are spreading all over. I bet by tomorrow—no, today—there'll be more detailed info…"
The chatter faded as they walked away.
Roger stood watching their retreating figures with growing interest.
When they sat in their offices reading newspapers or browsing the web, the media was flooded with headlines about Master and Commander. Twentieth Century Fox's aggressive marketing had convinced half of Hollywood that The Butterfly Effect had no chance. Critical reviews seemed to confirm that sentiment.
From every angle, Anson's career appeared to be heading for its first major setback. Whether this would escalate into a failure or a disaster remained to be seen.
Yet, stepping into the theater, Roger discovered a completely different reality.
Suddenly, Roger realized that perhaps the "stupidity" of The Butterfly Effect might be its secret weapon.
Don't get him wrong—Roger still liked Master and Commander. He firmly believed it was one of the year's best-crafted films. Russell Crowe, lingering on the outskirts of Hollywood's A-list, had delivered an eagerly awaited performance. This film was a critical step for him.
Success here would elevate Russell to the "$20 million club."
By all accounts, it seemed inevitable that Russell's breakthrough would come, likely at Anson's expense.
Roger hadn't given Master and Commander a perfect score lightly. Even after days of reflection post-premiere, he stood by his opinion that it was one of the year's best films.
But then Roger asked himself: How watchable was it?
Out of four stars, he'd given Master and Commander three. Highly watchable, but not perfect.
As always, Roger's ratings separated artistic merit from entertainment value. A 100-point artistic piece might not be worth watching, while a 20-point popcorn flick could still be enjoyable. The gap between art and commerce was an unavoidable reality.
So, how did The Butterfly Effect fare?
What about its entertainment value? Its score?
Roger pondered as he walked, letting his thoughts roam freely under the quiet night sky. Whatever conclusions he reached, one thing was clear:
The real winners were the audiences.
The variety of choices in theaters was undeniably a good thing.