This week, however, he deftly beats the tar out of The Village in such a way that makes me want to give the chubbly Chicago curmudgeon a big hug.
Of the film's Big Shockeroo Twist Ending, he notes "to call it an anticlimax would be an insult not only to climaxes but to prefixes." Sure, it's no "She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B" (thanks, Dorothy) but it's a whole lot better than those clueless half-wits who just had to make a "kitty litter" joke in their Catwoman reviews. (Ebert mentions a litter box in his, but not for snarky soundbite purposes.)
There's life in the ol' codger left.