"As a piece of modern cinema, I would love to mention Alex Garland’s Ex Machina, which I thought was a brilliant, brilliant film. I think in a year that saw Oscar Isaac and Domhnall Gleeson have another science fiction film out as well, it was such a great reminder of how smaller, more thoughtful, more intense, grown-up… It’s an example of the combination of those things, in a way, a kind of more science fiction in the vein of 2001, a more cerebral, literally cerebral kind of science fiction film that was and just how beautifully performed it is. Alicia Vikander is amazing in that film. It’s a film that I’ve watched many times because I just, I don’t seem to tire of it. I think it’s excellent."

"Anchored by Gena Rowland’s titanic performance, the Cassavetes opus was a watershed film for me. When her character waits for her kids at the bus stop I started crying and couldn’t stop. One of the movies’ greatest portrayals of the complexities of being female and interesting in a man’s world. Jeanne Dielman is the ultimate punk-rock statement in cinema. It’s feminist, female, utterly subversive—and clocking in at three hours and twenty-one minutes, it plants a flag of absolute confidence. It is a masterpiece of the first order, every shot purposeful, every moment freighted with intent. Akerman was twenty-five when she made the film, and she redefined our limited notions of a cinematic wunderkind. If anyone wants to argue with me about this, I’m happy to rumble."

"Anchored by Gena Rowland’s titanic performance, the Cassavetes opus was a watershed film for me. When her character waits for her kids at the bus stop I started crying and couldn’t stop. One of the movies’ greatest portrayals of the complexities of being female and interesting in a man’s world. Jeanne Dielman is the ultimate punk-rock statement in cinema. It’s feminist, female, utterly subversive—and clocking in at three hours and twenty-one minutes, it plants a flag of absolute confidence. It is a masterpiece of the first order, every shot purposeful, every moment freighted with intent. Akerman was twenty-five when she made the film, and she redefined our limited notions of a cinematic wunderkind. If anyone wants to argue with me about this, I’m happy to rumble."

"I love pretty much everything Jarmusch does, and Down by Law is as good an introduction to his work as any of his many wonderful films. Now that I think about it, be sure to also check out Mystery Train and Night on Earth, probably before watching Down by Law because they’re a bit more accessible. Then come back to Down by Law and watch it again, and see how it gets better each time, and how you want to relive it like a nice dream. The world of Jim Jarmusch is a truly wonderful place, like a little corner café for cinema lovers to spend their days in. Bonus: Roberto Benigni is just incredibly delightful in Jarmusch films. Hey, Criterion, can we get a nice Ghost Dog set?"

"I’m going to cite probably a really odd one: The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Catherine Deneuve – it’s a musical in the 1960s, and I think that’s the best example of utilizing color and production design in a film that’s been done in the history of cinema. Basically it’s stunning and it’s a really delightful, buoyant film about love and friends. It’s just a beautiful, beautiful movie and probably not what your readers would have thought I might have picked. I use The Umbrellas of Cherbourg as an example of how color can inform a character’s internal head space. I’ve used that many, many, many times in my projects — I’ve pointed production designers, writers, and cinematographers to that film as an [example of how to use] color. It’s a cool movie."

"The Mirror was the closest cinema came to poetry. Tarkovsky abandoned narrative and mixed up different perspectives, stitching together the personal and the historical in a totally unique way. He made some other powerful films, but for me The Mirror is the one I keep going back to for air and inspiration. Its collage, fractured-mirror approach and refusal of anything literal and linear make sure the film will always keep its power and mystery, not unlike Eliot’s Waste Land. I have a problem these days getting through Tarkovsky’s more linear films, with these long, slow tracking shots that have spawned so many imitators (mainly male directors who love to exercise their power over a captive audience for hours). The other Tarkovsky film I can watch repeatedly and keep discovering anew is Ivan’s Childhood."

"I would say my third one would probably be The Black Cat, 1934. Lugosi, but with Karloff, who also is demented, as a Satan worshiper. David Manners, who is in Dracula, again giving another bizarre, stiff, wooden performance, except this time it’s more obvious, because you have two guys who are amazing surrounding him. It’s always weird watching these sort of straight-up leading men being destroyed by these freaks. I don’t know, it’s kind of weird. I guess these guys don’t really get the credit that they deserve for their acting, because they were always in horror movies, but Lugosi and Karloff are just incredible. I mean, they create these iconic moments that define what cinema is, and they’re sort of brushed off. But I guess that’s the way it goes"