"The next one is a Carl Theodor Dreyer film, The Passion of Joan of Arc, which is just an astounding film. Another film that is so powerful in its representation of human emotions. The film traces the trial of Joan of Arc, but it does so in a way that really gets us to focus on the ways that she’s processing this experience and transcends it through her feeling of connection to God. The lead actress in the film, Maria Falconetti, delivers a performance that… I don’t think anyone has ever delivered a stronger cinematic performance than this one. Dreyer is relentless in his closeups on her; I think 95% of the shots of her are in closeup. The nuances of facial expression that she manages to perform in itself, to give us a sense of all these things that she is feeling that you can’t really say out loud, absolutely remarkable. He does lots of other things in terms of really candid camera angles and disorienting kind of editing patterns that make us feel what her consciousness is experiencing. It’s just one of the classics of world cinema."

"I love European cinema. I made a proviso that you have to watch it with the Swedish subtitles on, not dubbed in American. It’s terrible when it’s dubbed in American. It’s really a drama. It’s the story of a young boy who meets a young girl who just happens to be a vampire. But the editing, the way they show the bleakness of the world, the way that they show a period in time which is nondescript — they say it’s the modern world, but it feels like the modern world that has gone by somehow. Very beautiful part of the world, it’s sterile and full of snow. I watched that one night; a friend recommended it to me. I was in my house on my own, at night, was very scared of it, and fell in love with it. I’m not a huge fan of horror movies, to be fair. There’s no reason for me to bring that into my life, that horror element. But with Let the Right One In, it was worth it because the performances and the story were both so brilliant."

"Next movie, I have to put a [Takeshi] Kitano film in there somewhere. I get torn between two, but it’s always between Sonatine and Hana-bi for me. They’re both incredible, but I tend to always veer towards Hana-bi, because as much as I love Sonatine, what Hana-bi has is heart. The emotional resonance of that ending is probably one of the most subtly heartbreaking moments in cinema. I just think the film’s an absolute masterpiece. His nonlinear storytelling in that movie, I don’t think he’s ever kind of done that better. It’s just so incredibly well put together. The fact that he can go from these moments of horrific, brutal violence, but then, within a few minutes, have a scene as playful as when he’s playing “guess the card” with his wife in the car, and he can see the cards in the rear-view mirror. To have a scene that’s as playful and as funny and as contemplative as that… I just think he’s a master filmmaker, and I’ve pretty much watched everything he’s done. So, that’s high up on that list then."

"I had the legendary film critic Andrew Sarris as a professor during his later years. At the time, he’d gab about the auteur theory (it was his theory, you know?) and talk about Hitchcock, Wilder, and Ford. But when pressed by his sycophantic students (myself included), he’d actually declare a 1955 Max Ophuls movie “the greatest movie ever made.” It was the first time I had ever heard of Lola Montès, so I immediately blind-bought the Criterion laser disc. I eventually graduated to the Blu-ray, which I’ve now seen countless times. Lola Montès is a beautiful, virtuoso piece of cinema. It’s an old-fashioned woman’s picture. It’s a study of loneliness. It’s structurally daring and technically masterful. It’s also really fun. It’ll make you want to devour every Ophuls movie you can get your hands on. The Criterion disc also features a really lovely documentary on Ophuls, made by his filmmaker son Marcel (I find this extra touching as my father is a filmmaker too.) After watching Lola Montès, New Yorkers can check out the grave of the real-life Lola Montès in Green-Wood Cemetery, an unlikely burial place for this nineteenth-century globetrotter."

"Mizoguchi is one of the greatest masters who ever worked in the medium of film; he’s right up there with Renoir and Murnau and Ford, and after the war he made three pictures—The Life of Oharu, Ugetsu, and Sansho the Bailiff—that stand at the summit of cinema. All of his artistry is channeled into the most extraordinary simplicity. You’re face-to-face with something mysterious, tragically inevitable, and then, in the end, peacefully removed. I love all three of these pictures and many other Mizoguchi films as well (including Princess Yang Kwei-fei, The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums, and Miss Oyu, to name only a few), but Ugetsu has the most powerful effect on me. There are moments in the picture, famous ones, that I’ve seen again and again and that always take my breath away: the boat slowly materializing from out of the mist and coming toward us . . . Genjuro collapsing on the grass in ecstasy and being smothered by Lady Wakasa . . . the final crane up from the son making an offering at his mother’s grave to the fields beyond. Just to think of these moments now fills me with awe and wonder."