RogerEbert.com Publisher Chaz Ebert will appear at FACETS this Thursday, December 4, alongside host Lee Shoquist, filmmaker Bing Liu (“Minding the Gap“) and critic Michael Phillips, discussing the best films of 2025. You can even vote for your favorite films and participate in an auction to support the FACETS mission. Get tickets here and check out the auction items here. Highlights include a special screening of the masterful “Ghostlight,” restaurant gift cards, a Siskel Film Center membership, and much more. Please see official information from FACETS below and get your tickets while you can!

What made the cut for the best films of 2025? Find out from the experts.

Join leading film critics, indie filmmakers, and Chicago’s vibrant community of cinema lovers at FACETS for Critic’s Cut 2025 — a one-night-only celebration spotlighting the year’s most unforgettable films and honoring 50 years of FACETS.

Hosted by Lee Shoquist (Film Critic, Chicago Film Critics Association), with special guests Chaz Ebert (RogerEbert.com), Bing Liu (Oscar-nominated Minding the Gap), and Michael Phillips (Writer, Talker), this expert group will reveal their top film picks of 2025 – afterward, stay for the reveal of the FACETS Audience Top Film Picks and to celebrate 50 years of FACETS. 

Enter the Critic’s Cut 2025 online auction and bid on experiences, restaurants, theater, museums and more! Bidding closes Thursday December 4, 2025 – 9PM. Proceeds support all FACETS programs for adults and youth. VIEW AUCTION

HIGHLIGHTS

• VIP “Meet the Critics” Pre-Reception Including Bites & Cocktails
• Live Experts Unveil 2025’s Best Film Picks 
• Prosecco Toast honoring FACETS’ 50th Anniversary 
• Reserved Seating for Sponsors and VIPs
• FACETS Audience Top Picks Reveal 
• After-Party with Dessert Bar, Raffle prizes, Live DJ set by Chelliah, and Film Trivia hosted by Raphael Jose Martinez
• Opportunities to Support FACETS’ Mission and 50-year Legacy 

Lee Shoquist – Film Critic 

Lee Shoquist is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and editor of ChicagoFilm.com. He leads a network of film discussion groups in Chicago, New York and Los Angeles, and is a frequent speaker at cultural and arts organizations including Facets, the Women’s Athletic Club, The Fortnightly of Chicago, Michigan Shores Club, Lake Shore Country Club, The Cliff Dwellers, the Casino Club, Google Headquarters and Cinema Chicago. His work examines artistic intent, social resonance and cinema’s place in contemporary culture. 

Chaz Ebert – RogerEbert.com

Chaz Ebert is an active producer of television and movies, and the CEO of Ebert Digital LLC—publisher of the preeminent movie review site, Rogerebert.com. For twenty-four years, she shared a life with Pulitzer-prize winner, Roger Ebert. In their work to foster empathy through cinema and around the globe, they established the Ebertfest Film Festival and the Roger Ebert Center for Film Studies at the University of Illinois. She is the author of the best-selling book It’s Time to Give a FECK: Elevating Humanity Through Forgiveness, Empathy, Compassion, and Kindness. 

Bing Liu – Director

Bing Liu is the director of Preparation for the Next Life and Minding the Gap, which was nominated for Best Feature Documentary at the 2019 Academy Awards, an Independent Spirit Award, an Emmy and won a Sundance Special Jury and Peabody Award. He was a segment director on Starz’ AMERICA TO ME and co-directed his second feature documentary All These Sons, which won Best Cinematography at the 2021 Tribeca Film Festival and the Maysles Award at the Denver International Film Festival. 

Michael Phillips – Writer, Talker

Before joining the Chicago Tribune in 2002 as drama critic, Michael Phillips worked as theater critic of the Los Angeles Times, the San Diego Union-Tribune, the St. Paul Pioneer Press and the Dallas Times-Herald. His work in other mediums includes co-hosting the long-running syndicated series “At the Movies”; on-air host for Turner Classic Movies; and appearances on the Chicago podcast “Filmspotting”. Michael has taught arts journalism for DePaul University, Columbia College, the University of Chicago and University of Illinois. 

A year-long wish of mine was granted this past weekend, and in the most thrilling of ways. Throughout the month of November, the fiftieth anniversary of “Siskel & Ebert” has been celebrated at the Chicago Cultural Center with special free programming held in its Claudia Cassidy Theatre. Most of them have been screenings of films beloved by the critics, followed by a conversation with key people involved in the show.

What made the “Siskel & Ebert” anniversary event held last Saturday, November 22nd, particularly special was the fact that it was a live performance. Local actors Stephan Winchell and Zack Mast appeared on the Claudia Cassidy stage as the landmark critic duo in a new show devised by Paul Durica’s public history project, Pocket Guide to Hell. Seated in chairs that would’ve felt right at home in Siskel and Ebert’s balcony, the critics watched filmed reenactments of various key moments from the evolution of their show as it gradually became a cultural phenomenon. They then discussed and debated the contents of the footage, as they would the merits of the films they reviewed on their show. An amusing running gag centered on Ebert’s insistence that his name should’ve been placed first in the title of their show, considering that he won a Pulitzer Prize, leading Siskel to flip a coin (as he did in real life) to ensure that his name would remain before his co-host’s.

It was last July when I initially saw the actors inhabit these roles in Katlin Schneider’s play, “Siskel/Ebert,” at Chicago’s Bughouse Theater. Watching the show was akin to getting as close as I ever could to observing Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert debate the merits of cinematic works in person. There was no question in my mind that the actors’ performances deserved two very enthusiastic thumbs way up. Winchell was spot-on and very funny as Siskel, while Mast captured Ebert’s look, mannerisms and cadence so impeccably, it was downright eerie. The episode they lovingly and ingeniously reenacted was from June 1987, where the sparring colleagues famously argued about “Full Metal Jacket” and “Benji the Hunted,” complete with hysterical recreations of the selected movie clips. Siskel’s widow, Marlene Iglitzen, was in attendance, and the show got her seal of approval as well. From that moment on, I was determined to have Roger’s widow—my former boss and dear friend, Chaz Ebert—see the show as well.

When I learned that Winchell and Mast were reprising their roles for the fiftieth anniversary festivities, I knew it would be a show I could not miss. In attendance for the sold out performance were numerous Windy City legends who had key roles in Siskel and Ebert’s legacy, including Marlene Iglitzen and Chaz Ebert; the show’s invaluable producer Thea Flaum; Michelle McKenzie-Voigt, assistant director of the show in its iteration entitled “Sneak Previews”; and former Chicago Sun-Times film critic and columnist Richard Roeper, who was selected as Ebert’s co-host following Siskel’s passing in 1999. This distinguished group participated in a lively onstage panel discussion moderated by veteran Chicago newspaperman Rick Kogan following the performance, though it was earlier in the evening when Chaz audibly gave her review of the show. As soon as Mast turned toward the audience, his resemblance to her late husband was so uncanny that it caused Chaz to exclaim, “Oh my god!” Later in the show, when the actors had an animated argument onstage in character, it was so evocative of Siskel and Ebert’s unmatched banter that it garnered applause from the crowd.

Produced by Durica and Meredith Milliron, the show featured live performances from Jeffrey Thomas and his band of the various theme songs utilized by Siskel and Ebert, culminating in the “Sneak Previews” theme for which a band member heroically replicated the wall-to-wall whistling. Rachel Wilson and Tim Sozoko appeared in the reenactment footage as Thea Flaum and David Letterman, respectively, while Kenya Merritt, acting commissioner of the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, kicked off the event by reading statements from her as well as the city’s mayor Brandon Johnson. 

“By reviewing films through accessible, authentic conversation, they transformed the way the world engages with cinema,” Merritt said of Siskel and Ebert. “As we celebrate their 50-year legacy, we also honor the generations of filmmakers, critics, and audiences they inspired. Their influence continues to shape how we uplift storytelling and creative innovation here in Chicago.”

As Roeper noted during the post-show panel, Siskel and Ebert’s spirit can be found in every person you see engaging in impassioned conversation about the film they’ve just seen. The thumbprint of their influence can be found everywhere from Letterboxd and the Criterion Closet to even a show like ESPN’s “Pardon the Interruption,” which Roeper said was conceived as a sports-focused equivalent of “Siskel & Ebert.” Chaz hinted onstage that the critics’ legacy is the subject for several projects currently in development, including a documentary and narrative film—the details about both are confidential—and a stage production that is actively in development by her daughter, Sonia Evans. Whether or not Winchell and Mast will be involved in any of these future projects, they have set an enormously high bar for any performer seeking to capture the essence of these fiercely opinionated icons. 

In the fall of 1981, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel fell in love with two men named Andre and Wally, and they told the world about it, thereby saving a tiny, eccentric, beguiling movie from a fast fade into commercial oblivion. I went to that movie, as did a few hundred thousand or more other people, because of that love. 

At the time their show went by the handle “Sneak Previews,” soon to be renamed “At the Movies” when the PBS success moved to a national syndication deal at Tribune Entertainment and then to Buena Vista Entertainment, aka Disney/ABC. The film about Andre and Wally, director Louis Malle’s “My Dinner with Andre,” made for perfect undergrad viewing, at least my undergrad viewing. Big ideas, elaborate anecdotes, two friends in real life: The struggling playwright and performer Wallace Shawn and the adventurous, restless experimental theater guru Andre Gregory, sharing a meal and a few insights. The movie feels like a play you’re watching from the next table, or from an ever-present waiter’s proximity.

When “My Dinner with Andre” opened, it was barely there. In Opposable Thumbs, Matt Singer’s book on the enterprising enterprise known as Siskel & Ebert, Shawn recalls the film eking out an unpromising handful of screenings at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema in New York City, before the film’s distributor started running miniscule ads saying, in effect, “closing soon in a theater near you, if it happens to be playing in a theater near you.” 

And then Roger and Gene’s “Sneak Previews” episode aired on a Thursday. The sellouts began, and “instead of closing,” as Singer writes, the film “stayed at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema for a year straight, and it wound up playing in more than nine hundred theaters all over the United States.” It cost a little under $500,000 to make it. It grossed roughly ten times that. 

I saw it at the Cedar Theater on the West Bank of the University of Minnesota Twin Cities campus, the same theater where I caught a midnight showing of “Eraserhead” as a freshman and never fully recovered. “My Dinner with Andre” was verbose in an easy-listening way, and exactly the sort of movie I wanted at that age, when I was discovering the joys of what the U of M theater majors (I was just a hanger-on) called “the pointless second dinner after rehearsal,” an excuse for hours of rudderless, ridiculous, eddying late-night conversation.

This is what Roger and Gene were about, in miniature, and without the “ridiculous” part, some of their sweaters aside. Before I read either of them, I listened and watched them converse, and debate, sometimes pissily, yes, more often thoughtfully, always engagingly. I saw “My Dinner with Andre” because it had champions in Roger and Gene, and my first film critic crush, Pauline Kael, whose essay “Trash, Art and the Movies” was excerpted in my seventh-grade textbook, Coping with the Mass Media. In its “Sneak Previews” era, the show was so, so simple and so right, one of those unassuming comets that comes around every 76 years or so. What they said, and how they said it, mattered to so many. 

The summer before “Sneak Previews” saved “My Dinner with Andre” from flopdom, I worked a part-time janitorial job at a machine parts factory in northeast Minneapolis. The guys in the shop talked about movies a lot. “Took my kid to see “Cannonball Run,” the friendliest of the guys told me over break. “Just, you know, stupid. But fun. And that Adrienne Barbeau. I mean! Cripes. Wouldn’t kick her outta bed. I watched ‘Maude” every week because of her, and I HATED ‘Maude.’ I kinda liked ‘Cannonball Run.’ (pause) (laughing) And Roger and Gene HATED that one!” 

My factory cohort watched “Sneak Previews” every week. He saw his first subtitled film because Roger and Gene recommended it. I wish I knew which film it was, but whatever it was, he took a chance on it based on loyalty to “my guys,” as he called Roger and Gene. Based on where most of the populist imports were coming from at the time, my coworker may have taken that chance because the film was either French or Italian, and one of the female leads may have resembled Adrienne Barbeau. But the nudge came from a couple of film critics.

This sort of thing happened a lot along the years of their TV run, the 50th anniversary of which Chicago celebrates this year. 

I never knew Gene; I knew Roger, and, through Roger, I have a valiant, good friend in Chaz Ebert. When Roger got sick, somehow, improbably, there I was, in 2006, in the Ebert chair (gulp) opposite longtime co-host Richard Roeper, trying to say something quick and interesting before wait the segment’s over already well better luck next segment. That somehow improbably turned into a steady rotation with A.O. Scott of The New York Times opposite Richard, and then Richard and me for a time before Richard left, and Tony and I ran out the syndication contract for the show’s final year. 

When I was floundering, which was early and often, Roger more or less saved my ass with a couple of very simple tips:

One: Figure out the ONE THING you NEED to say about whatever you’re reviewing in the time you have on camera. Maybe two things. But really, one. Don’t try to cover the waterfront. You will drown.

Two: There are ways to interrupt or, more politely, interject, without speaking. Whatever physical thing you tend to do in real life when you hear somebody say something worth an argument—shaking your head or doing some “waaaaait a minute” thing with your hands—just do that, but bigger than you’d do it in actual life. Do that thing, and the camera will cut to YOU. And then you talk, quickly. 

“Time is short,” Roger told me. He was referring to the segment’s unscripted cross-talk, which made the show the show. Now that he and Gene have been gone a long time, even though they’re with us still, I realize he may have been talking about something larger than effective on-camera debate tactics. 

As Chicago marks the 50th anniversary of these two, let’s also remember why we watched, listened to, and read them in the first place. The thumbs weren’t the thing, really. What I remember about Roger and Gene talking up “My Dinner with Andre” was the excitement of discovery.

At their best, like Andre and Wally with a different, itchier sort of friendship underneath the double act, Gene and Roger made the connections and started new conversations (or arguments) about movies we’d seen–and the ones we’d be seeing that weekend, thanks to them.

Between the ages of 3 and 5, I fell in love with the movies after seeing my very first one, learned how to read and write, and discovered there was actually a job out there that combined all of those things into one: A film critic.

From that point on, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. And while my peers may have yearned to be doctors or firemen or the like, I wanted to watch movies and write about them, just like those guys I read in the Sun-Times and the Tribune that my father would bring home from work every day. (If all of this seems a little weird for someone whose age was still in the mid-single-digits, all I can do is agree that yeah, it was weird.)

Even better, about a year or so later, I discovered that those two guys, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel, had a TV program called “Sneak Previews” where they reviewed all the new movies. The show became an immediate must-watch for me. (If I recall correctly, it played on Saturday night in the pre-prime time slot and was followed by the equally delightful “The Muppet Show”). I delighted in the bickering, the movie clips, and even the segment at the end where they highlighted the week’s worst movies—usually trashy horror, Kung-fu, and sexploitation items—in ways that often made them seem more tantalizing than some of the films covered in the main section.

Even at an early age, I knew I wanted to be a film critic, but at that point, I was more than a little hazy about exactly what that entailed. In many professions, I could see people doing them and understand the various tasks involved. In film criticism, I knew I could watch a movie and put down my thoughts on the typewriter I was given for my 7th birthday (again, I was a weird kid). But I also knew there had to be more to it than that. I wasn’t sure of where to turn, and it wasn’t as if there were going to be any grade-school field trips to see a critic at work that would have helped to answer my questions. As it turns out, in early 1980, I actually got that field trip, more or less, via that very same favorite television show of mine.

Every once in a while, “Sneak Previews” would break from the usual format to do an entire episode based on a specific topic. They did one about some of their favorite so-called Guilty Pleasures, where I first learned about the delights of “Infra-Man” and “Emmanuelle,” and a controversial one about the then-current rage for slasher films. In the one I am referring to, the show actually took viewers behind the scenes to follow Siskel & Ebert going through the entire process of watching and reviewing a movie. It showed them at their respective newspaper office desks talking about their expectations for the film they were about to see (Harold Becker’s “The Black Marble”), followed them to the screening room housed within the iconic Chicago Theatre (with Siskel making a pit stop for popcorn at Garretts on the way) where they talked about things like seating preferences and taking notes before watching the film and then went back with them to their offices as they collected their thoughts and set them to paper.

Needless to say, I was mesmerized by all of this. In less than half an hour, pretty much all my questions about this admittedly odd profession were answered in a clear, concise, and entertaining manner. I loved getting a glimpse at the inner workings of a newspaper and the process of putting a review together. Since I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and visited the city with my family frequently, I was familiar with the locations the show took viewers to—I recall getting popcorn from that very same Garrett’s myself—and, in a strange way, that made it even more personal to me. For the first time, what once may have seemed like an impractical dream now not only seemed far more realistic but even potentially achievable. After watching that show, I was more determined than ever that this was what I wanted to do, and I would do whatever was necessary to make it happen.

Maybe ten years later, I am in my freshman year of college, and I have been hired at the school’s fledgling newspaper as its film critic. This involved contacting local publicists in hopes of getting on the various lists to gain access to advance screenings of the latest films. One of them was for, of all things, the original “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” and when I asked if there were going to be any screenings, I was invited to one at 10:00 AM on a Monday morning at a location that held private screenings and ran dailies for films shooting in the area. At the appointed day and time, I turned up (I won’t say whether I skipped any classes) for my first-ever press-only moviegoing experience and found that no one else was there.

For a few minutes, I am slowly becoming convinced that I am either in the wrong place or I am inexplicably being pranked. Then I hear the door open, and a voice asks, “Is this the right room?” It is none other than Siskel & Ebert themselves entering and settling into their seats.

As it happens, we were the only three people watching “TMNT” that day. After a couple of minutes, the film began—a good thing since I was, for one of the very few times in my existence, absolutely speechless. I have only the haziest memories of the movie itself, but I remember that screening like it was yesterday. It was one of my first real steps in this oddest of professions, but I was hooked.

Over the next few decades, I would continue to stick with it, even in the face of the gradual devolution of both that particular job and the profession of journalism in general, and there was even a brief flirtation with being part of a locally-produced television show involving people talking about current movies—like virtually all flirtations in which I played an active part, it ended quickly and bitterly (Fellow critic Nathan Rabin, who lasted longer with the project than I did, wrote about it in his lovely book The Big Rewind: A Memoir Brought To You By Pop Culture, even mentioning my glancing association with it.)

Would I have been able to accomplish all of this without having seen that particular episode of “Sneak Previews” for inspiration? I don’t know, but what I do know is that it made that dream seem viable, if perhaps not exactly practical, and for that, I will always hold it deep in my heart.

Before I was a friend and colleague, I was a fan.

In my early and mid-teens in the 1970s, I was a loner jock/pop culture nerd who was obsessed with these pursuits:

Playing and watching baseball and football and to a lesser extent basketball, and consuming issues of Sports Illustrated and Sport and Baseball Digest, and reading books such as Roger Kahn’s The Boys of Summer, Jim Bouton’s Ball Four, David Wolf’s Foul! The Connie Hawkins Story and George Plimpton’s Paper Lion.

Watching late-night and weekend TV, especially talk shows such as “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson,” “The Tomorrow Show with Tom Snyder,” ABC’s “Good Night America,” wherever Dick Cavett had landed in a given season—and the Chicago-based “Kup’s Show,” with the legendary Chicago Sun-Times columnist Irv Kupcinet presiding over an eclectic group of guests engaging in “the lively art of conversation.”

Movies. Movies movies movies.

Then came a program that merged two of those three passions: movies and talk shows. At some point in late 1975 or early 1976, I became aware of “Opening Soon at a Theater Near You,” a monthly review program on WTTW-Channel 11. The show featured Chicago Sun-Times film critic Roger Ebert and Chicago Tribune film critic Gene Siskel talking about new releases in the low-key but instantly engrossing style that made you feel like you were eavesdropping on your two favorite teachers as they verbally sparred between classes. (Roger was 33 when the show debuted; Gene was just 29.)

It was great. I watched every week. I took notes. (I had piles of spiral notebooks back then, filled with scribblings about everything from stats comparing the 1927 Yankees to the mid-1970s Big Red Machine, to my ratings of various episodes of “The Tonight Show.” Like I said: nerd.) Conventional wisdom has it that Roger and Gene were awkward, unpolished and slightly geeky in those early years—and while there’s some truth in that, they were also pretty comfortable in their respective personas from the get-go, clearly knowledgeable and passionate about films, and respectful of each other’s opinions, even when they vehemently disagreed.

When I had the cash to see a movie at the Dolton Cinema or the River Oaks in Calumet City, I based my choices largely on Roger’s reviews in the Sun-Times (we were never a Tribune family, no offense)—and what Roger and Gene had to say on “Opening Soon at a Theater Near You.” It was a well-produced show from the start, but it also had a quirky, almost no-budget, enormously charming local public television vibe. The guys delivered insightful and sobering commentary on major films such as “Taxi Driver”—but they never took themselves too seriously, as evidenced by segments titled the “Dog of the Week” (with Spot the Wonder Dog) and later the “Stinker of the Week” (with Aroma the Educated Skunk), shining a harsh but playful light on terrible movies. As memory serves, in both cases, real animals were supplanted by plush toys. Easier to wrangle, I would imagine.

Fast forward to the 1980s and 1990s, when Roger and Gene were syndicated across the country. The review show was still must-see television for me—but as a talk-show geek, I was also a big fan of the Siskel & Ebert chat show appearances, including the grandaddy of them all, “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.” (Years later, Roger told me that when he and Gene were backstage at “The Tonight Show,” a producer told them Johnny was going to ask about the best movies currently playing in theaters—and they both drew a blank. From that point forward, whenever they taped a talk show appearance, a producer would be at the ready back at the Chicago offices in case they needed to make a call.) 

They were great with Regis and Kathie Lee, with Oprah and Johnny and Jay and Arsenio, but best of all were the appearances with David Letterman, who recognized comedy gold in these fellow Midwesterners. Roger and Gene would come on and mostly talk about movies (the running joke was that while Letterman would have only one guest on at a time, he always kept two chairs on the set “for Siskel & Ebert”) —but they were also featured in comedy bits. They made quick cameos, gave their concession stand recommendations at a makeshift snack counter, and perhaps most famously, filmed a segment where Dave, Roger and Gene went door to door in New Jersey, cleaning the gutters at one woman’s house, playing a game of basketball in a driveway court, and even stopping in to pay their respects at a funeral home in West Orange. They had become such household names that when Michael J. Fox was on with Letterman to promote his movie “The Hard Way,” nearly an entire segment was devoted to Fox’s feelings about Gene and Roger and their respective reviewing styles.

It’s nearly impossible to overstate the impact Siskel & Ebert had on the careers of filmmakers, and on the popular culture. When they championed films such as “Hoop Dreams,” or did an entire show in black and white to decry the horrific practice of colorizing films, when they touted the works of Spike Lee and Errol Morris and Werner Herzog and the Coen Brothers, millions were watching and taking heed. At times, Hollywood players would take not-so-thinly-veiled shots at the lads. Roland Emmerich’s “Godzilla” had the incompetent “Mayor Ebert” (Michael Lerner) and his advisor, Gene (Lorry Goldman). In “The Ref,” where Richard LaGravenese had J.K. Simmons playing a deviant character named “Siskel” because Gene had said LaGravenese’s screenplay for “The Fisher King” was the least deserving of the Oscar nominees in that category in 1991. Gene and Roger were on “Saturday Night Live,” lampooned in Mad Magazine, on the Howard Stern Show, and were depicted in animated form on “The Critic.” They were as famous as the movie stars and directors they talked about.

Through it all, though, the Roger and Gene we saw in the balcony every week were the same guys who popped up on Channel 11 back in 1975. They never moved the production from Chicago to Hollywood. They never added unnecessary bells and whistles or gimmicks. It was two smart guys who loved movies sitting across the aisle from one another, speaking with passion and knowledge and savvy about the movies that would be opening that weekend at a theater near you. It was magic.

At the 2025 Cinema Femme Short Film Festival that took place at the Music Box Theatre earlier this summer, filmmaker and multidisciplinary artist Lauren Melinda was honored as the first recipient of the Chaz Ebert Phenomenal Person in Film Award. The award recognizes filmmakers whose work embodies empathy, compassion, and a commitment to amplifying underrepresented voices, values central both to Cinema Femme and to Chaz Ebert’s philanthropic vision.

During the ceremony, Sonia Evans, Vice President of Development at Ebert Digital LLC and daughter of Chaz Ebert, selected Lauren Melinda for the honor, and shared why she chose Lauren and her film “Before You”:

“I chose Lauren Melinda and her film “Before You” because it invites the viewer into a world where forgiveness, empathy, compassion, and kindness are not only present but essential for survival. These principles are woven throughout the film’s emotional arc and are reflected in Lauren’s own artistic mission. Lauren’s work across film photography and mixed media installation serves as a powerful form of advocacy that speaks not only to personal truth, but to shared humanity. For these reasons, I believe Lauren Melinda is the deeply deserving recipient of the 2025 Chaz Ebert Phenomenal Person in Film Award.”

When asked about Evan’s words, Melinda reflected on how deeply they resonated:

“I so appreciate that’s what she saw from the film. And I think that’s always been my goal—to bring humanity to a conversation that’s so politicized and isn’t really seen in that light. For her to reflect that back was incredibly meaningful to me. In all of my work—my artwork, writing, filmmaking—it’s always been about finding the humanity and the connection we share, and creating an open dialogue.”

Melinda emphasized that her art often delves into subjects many people shy away from discussing. “My husband sometimes asks me, why do you talk about things people aren’t supposed to talk about?” she said with a smile. “But the truth is, so many of us live with silence, shame, or guilt. We don’t need to be alone in that. Sharing our own humanity allows others to bring their stories into the light.”

Her film “Before You,” currently screening at festivals nationwide—including at the Alabama School of Fine Arts—has sparked conversations across audiences in unexpected places.

“What surprised me most was how many red states have been playing my film,” she noted. “I expected it to find its home in blue states, where the conversation is maybe more normalized. But actually, most of the festivals have been in very strict abortion states. It’s been fascinating to see how audiences there have received the film and the idea that love and pain can exist together.”

That duality, Melinda explained, is at the heart of “Before You.” “I talk with my daughter about being able to hold two feelings at once. For me, this film is about holding the immense love I had for my daughter who was born alongside the pain and loss of the one who never came to be. Many of us—women, men, parents—have lived with loss. The film is about shifting expectations and opening space for those emotions to coexist.”

About the Award

The Phenomenal Person in Film Award was inspired in 2019, when Chaz Ebert praised Cinema Femme’s Executive Director, Rebecca Martin Fagerholm, as “a phenomenal woman” during a public event. That moment sparked the creation of an award to recognize filmmakers whose work advances empathy, representation, and inclusion.

This year marks the first time the Cinema Femme Film Festival has presented the award under Ebert’s name. Each recipient is interviewed for Cinema Femme Magazine and invited to meet Chaz Ebert, continuing her mission of mentoring and uplifting new voices. Past honorees of the original Phenomenal Person Award have included Veronica Miles, Katrine Weber, Anna Fredrikke Bjerke, Mazdey Snob, Tiffany Tenille, and Claudia Lee.

Cameron Bailey, the CEO of the Toronto International Film Festival (“TIFF”), announced that at its 50th edition, TIFF will present acclaimed filmmaker Guillermo del Toro with this year’s Ebert Director Award, as part of their TIFF Tribute Awards gala.

Del Toro, the Academy Award-winning director of films like “Pan’s Labyrinth,” “Nightmare Alley,” “Hellboy,” “Crimson Peak,” “The Devil’s Backbone,” and “The Shape of Water,” will be presented with the award (which recognizes filmmakers who have exemplified greatness) at the TIFF Tribute Awards gala, in Toronto, Sunday, September 7th at the Fairmont Royal York Hotel.

The director will also premiere his latest film, “Frankenstein,” at the festival.

Chaz Ebert, Publisher of RogerEbert.com, said: “I am absolutely thrilled that Guillermo Del Toro will receive the Ebert Director Award at TIFF in acknowledgement of his excellence as a filmmaker. In his conversations with Roger, he confirmed that his films often explored the depths of the psyche, both of his own and of our collective fears and desires. His attention to cinematic detail is exemplary.”

Alongside del Toro, other Tribute Award recipients this year include Jodie Foster, who will receive the Share Her Journey Groundbreaker Award for her pioneering work as a female filmmaker; Japanese writer-director Mitsuyo Miyazaki (aka Hikari) will receive the Emerging Talent Award, and South Korean star Lee Byung-hun (“Squid Game, “this year’s upcoming “No Other Choice”) will receive the Special Tribute Award. Brendan Fraser is returning as the Chair of the event.

Previous Ebert Director Award recipients include Martin Scorsese, Ava DuVernay, Agnes Varda, Wim Wenders, Spike Lee, Mike Leigh, Claire Denis, Taika Waititi, Chloé Zhao, Denis Villeneuve, and Sam Mendes.

TIFF will take place September 4th to September 14th, with its opening night film being the documentary “John Candy: I Like Me,” about the late comic actor.

Watch the teaser for the TIFF Tribute Awards below.