A paragon of cinema criticism for decades, Roger Ebert-with his humor, sagacity, and no-nonsense thumb-achieved a renown unlikely ever to be equaled. His tireless commentary has been greatly missed since his death, but, thankfully, in addition to his mountains of daily reviews, Ebert also left behind a legacy of lyrical long-form writing. And with Two Weeks in the Midday Sun, we get a glimpse not only into Ebert the man, but also behind the scenes of one of the most glamorous and peculiar of cinematic rituals: the Cannes Film Festival.More about people than movies, this book is an intimate, quirky, and witty account of the parade of personalities attending the 1987 festival-Ebert's twelfth, and the fortieth anniversary of the event. A wonderful raconteur with an excellent sense of pacing, Ebert presents lighthearted ruminations on his daily routine and computer troubles alongside more serious reflection on directors such as Fellini and Coppola, screenwriters like Charles Bukowski, actors such as Isabella Rossellini and John Malkovich, the very American press agent and social maverick Billy "e;Silver Dollar"e; Baxter, and the stylishly plunging necklines of yore. He also comments on the trajectory of the festival itself and the "e;enormous happiness"e; of sitting, anonymous and quiet, in an ordinary French caf And, of course, he talks movies.Illustrated with Ebert's charming sketches of the festival and featuring both a new foreword by Martin Scorsese and a new postscript by Ebert about an eventful 1997 dinner with Scorsese at Cannes, Two Weeks in the Midday Sun is a small treasure, a window onto the mind of this connoisseur of criticism and satire, a man always so funny, so un-phony, so completely, unabashedly himself.