With the rise of podcasting, long-form interviews have become nearly ubiquitous, but once upon a time there were few places where one could go to hear an extended conversation with a celebrity. For a period in the late eighties and early nineties, one of those few places was Later with Bob Costas, which catered to a crowd of night owls and insomniacs from NBC’s 1:30am ET timeslot.
This week on the Late-Night Time Machine, we travel back to 1992 and a two-part episode of Later with Bob Costas featuring Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel, the two Chicago film critics whose own weekly movie review TV show made them household names.
In his biography of the pair, Opposable Thumbs, Matt Singer summed up their charm: “Siskel and Ebert took the movies seriously, but they didn’t take themselves seriously.” This was never clearer than when the pair guested on late-night television. In fact, Singer writes, the pair were such a hit on the short-lived Pat Sajak Show that CBS had planned to bring in the pair to guest host. Sadly, the show itself was cancelled before the duo got a chance at the helm.
Starting in 1985, they became regular visitors to The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. The following year, they were joined on the couch by Chevy Chase, who mocked Ebert as the critic gave his honest assessment of the actor’s movies. They were also frequent guests of David Letterman, who welcomed them to Late Night on March 1, 1982, exactly one month into his reign. (Their hours-worth of appearances with Letterman have been diligently compiled into a six-part series by archivist Don Giller on his YouTube channel dedicated to the host’s work.)
But the duo was arguably never better than when they were on Later with Bob Costas. Following the Thanksgiving holiday in 1992, Costas dedicated not one, but two episodes to Siskel & Ebert, giving the pair a full hour of airtime to talk, bicker, and play around.
Their appearance began with a bit of archival footage from a prior visit to Later, in March 1989, when they demonstrated for Costas their pre-show ritual, in which the duo recited the nursery rhyme “Pease Porridge Hot,” while clapping their hands together.
On the 1992 show, Costas wanted another scoop, and Siskel was ready. “I don’t admire Roger for a whole lot of reasons,” Siskel began. But one thing he did admire, Siskel continued, was his co-host’s imitation of former presidential candidate Ross Perot, crediting him what he described as an “uncanny ability.”
Ebert was not too happy to oblige. Siskel had not prepared him to do the imitation, he says. But Costas and Siskel are insistent. “You’re great at this,” Siskel says, “I give you confidence.” So Ebert jumps into it, making Siskel and Costas laugh. Costas says Ebert has the cadence and verbiage down, but not the voice. Siskel says Ebert’s voice used to get higher. Ebert says he is nervous and then goes on the offensive.
“You ought to see him do his imitations. He doesn’t do any,” Ebert says. “It’s a very extraordinarily good day in the life of Gene Siskel when he can sound like himself.” A backhanded compliment if there ever was one. He goes on to say that he “just realized” that Siskel “set me up to fail,” before Costas had “even asked a single question.” Siskel breaks out into laughter, and the boys are off to the races.
Asked by Siskel to name his biggest fear, Ebert says it’s falling. Siskel says the thing he admires most about Ebert is his gift as a writer. Ebert says he admires that Siskel always seems to be one step ahead of everyone when it comes to being in the know. This leads Costas to identify the great harmony of the pair: one’s a reporter, the other an essayist.
Such exchanges reveal Costas’ skill as an interviewer. He asks sharp, incisive questions, a byproduct of his active listening to his guests. The show has a fantastic rhythm, striking a balance between the performative, yet wildly entertaining personal feuds of his guests, and the more substantive exchanges, such as when the pair bemoans the “television-ization” of modern movies.
At one point, Costas asks his guests to name the thing they dislike most about the other. For Siskel, it is that Ebert is too self-absorbed. For Ebert, Siskel’s most annoying trait is pointing out how he, Ebert, did something wrong. Siskel smirks.
This leads to Costas’ best question: “What do you eat at the movies?”
“Dots!” Siskel declares without hesitation.
“You know what the bad thing is about Dots, though,” Costas replies. “You can’t tell in the dark of the movie theater where the red ones are, and the red ones are the best ones.
“Dots don’t have a distinctive flavor,” Ebert declares matter-of-factly. “If you’re blindfolded, you can’t tell one Dot from another.”
“Not true,” Siskel immediately replies.
Ebert says this is only true for Chuckles, which causes Siskel to, well, chuckle.
“I can’t believe the mistakes that are being made here,” Siskel says. “I guess, I do do what he says. I’m now going to correct you both.”
Siskel says red Dots are too sweet. “I would argue that if you would sensitize yourself to the orange Dot,” he advises, “you will have a far better dining experience.” Siskel says this with a grin on his face in full acknowledgement of the silliness of the matter at hand, but with the sincere conviction of a character out of Wodehouse or Wilde. It’s marvelous television. “The red Dot is juvenile,” he adds.
Ebert chimes in that Red Hots are great. Siskel agrees, but he is not done with Dots. “To get back to his mistake,” he says, touching Ebert on the arm. Siskel insists that Ebert is wrong in saying that one cannot tell the flavor difference between the varied colors of Dots.
The pair bicker some more before Ebert comes up with an idea: have someone run down to a store, buy some Dots, and the pair will conduct a blind taste test. Costas loves it. But ever the broadcaster, he knows they’re running short on time and decides to plug the taste test for part two of the program, which will air on the following broadcast, Monday, November 30. The critics are game.
Costas begins the second episode by introducing a “couple of burning issues.” He teases that later in the show, Siskel will “prove” that he, “unlike Roger,” can tell the difference between each Dot. “All Dots tase the same,” Ebert insists.
The previous program ended with Ebert and Costas, to Siskel’s astonishment, insisting that Chuckles were far superior to Dots. Costas begins the new program by testing a claim made by Ebert that he can name the color alignment of the Chuckles in the package by memory. Ebert passes the test. “Unbelievable. Isn’t it, ladies and gentleman?” Costas asks, as if Ebert has just pitched a no-hitter in the World Series.
Siskel then instructs viewers on how to properly eat a Chuckle. He advises sucking off the sugar first, then, “you can do the ridge-thing, as Roger was talking about, where you divide them up in ridges in your mouth.” This, he insists, will result in “a different textural sensation. You’re getting more entertainment value per Chuckle that way.” “You look like Bill Mazeroski with a wad of tobacco,” Costas says as Siskel sucks sugar.
The trio then get into a discussion of the year’s movies, talking about favorites, dislikes, and examples of films reviewed throughout their careers in which they were in the minority opinion. They discuss Ebert’s negative review of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, which Ebert (wrongly) predicts will stand the test of time and that the masses will eventually come to agree with him.
But the big show comes at the end. Returning from a commercial break, Costas reintroduces the Dots dispute. The camera shows the duo seated in their respective armchairs, with Siskel wearing a necktie as a blindfold. A glorious image. “Girls, this is Daddy,” he says to his daughters through the camera. “He’s not being held captive by Bob and Roger.”
As Costas prepares the dots, the pair’s trademark competition and conspiratorial thinking sets in. Ebert warns that Siskel may be able to look down at the Dots as they enter his mouth. Siskel assuages concerns by pressing the tie up against his eyes, with Costas placing each Dot right on Siskel’s tongue.
While Siskel chews, the color of the Dot flashes on the screen. “That would be your basic green Dot,” Siskel says without hesitation. Costas congratulates his guest, but says “scientifically, that has not convinced us.” Ebert hands Siskel a glass of water to cleanse his palette. Costas then jams an orange Dot into Siskel’s mouth. Siskel, on the brink of choking, gets it right again.
“The tie is probably transparent!” Ebert declares. Siskel raises his hand to God that he cannot see.
Then things get tricky. After correctly identifying a third, red Dot, Costas jams two Dots together and places them in Siskel’s mouth. “It’s a split Dot,” he declares immediately.
Before they go to commercial break, Ebert insists on examining the tie. But Siskel, the reporter, is proven right once more.
Watch the complete video of Siskel &Ebert’s two-part 1992 Later with Bob Costas appearance at the top of this post.
Get stories like this in your inbox: Sign up for LateNighter’s free daily newsletter.
