"So it’s only appropriate that by 1969, when Mick Jagger steps out of a helicopter at Altamont Speedway, in the brilliant rock doc Gimme Shelter, he is promptly punched in the face by a rabid fan. It’s all downhill from there. Here is Mick at his best and worst—decadent druggie, preening queen, rock ‘n’ roll showman, heart-of-gold hustler, unsuccessful snake charmer. David Maysles, Albert Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin are there to beautifully capture the idealism of Woodstock melt and turn into this bad acid trip."

"You know, I think love the antihero a little bit. The one that you just end up going, “Come on, you can make it. You can turn yourself around.” I loved Dead Man Walking. One of [Sean Penn’s] most brilliant performances. The fact that he manages to get you, by the end, wanting him to live, even after the most heinous crimes, is jaw-dropping to me. You start hating him, and you’re like, “You’re despicable.” And then… I just find it amazing. Only Sean Penn could do that. I think he’s amazing."

"The brilliant chemistry between Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal uniquely and poetically captures a black man and a white man’s friendship and the competing social standards that they each must live by. Diggs plays a man who cannot afford to make the mistakes that his best friend can, and lives in waking fear of a terrible threat that his best friend will never have to confront. The final encounter with the police officer beautifully captures the pressures of carrying a gun (police) vs. the pressure of fearing that gun (black Americans)."

"Terrence Malick is the preeminent practicing metaphysician of the cinema. In his brilliant and haunting first feature, he tells the story of a vicious young serial killer and his impassive underage girlfriend, both perfectly rendered by Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek. The violence unfolds in the context of a vastly uncaring natural world and is relayed to us by the girl through a detached narration utterly innocent of emotion. The result is not a moral inquiry into human action but rather a compelling meditation on the nature of being itself."

"I discovered the film on TV in Spain and still like the Spanish title, Rufufu—signaling it as a travesty of a Rififi-style clever caper. The original Italian title—I soliti ignoti (Persons unknown)— also becomes very good once you’ve seen the film. Just the way the characters eat food in the movie is delightful, and the filming style classic and brilliant—a comedy of great elegance. The only two autographs I’ve collected are Mario Monicelli’s and Diana Ross’s (whose “I’m Coming Out” greatly aided the Last Days of Disco soundtrack)."