"The lack of interest in Fassbinder’s work depresses the hell out of me. For me, he is the birth of the new. His high-concept stories, told in bold dramatic strokes and with vibrant colors, teach us about everything from class and racial politics to family responsibility and true love. His theatricality comes out of the Brecht mold, but it is new, it is melodramatic and involving and funny, often bitter and ironic, always with good humor, but, for me anyway, never cynical. He wears his heart and soul on his sleeve. He traverses the taboo, attacks intolerance, and loves his characters so much, even if at first they appear totally unappealing. Fassbinder is an original, and Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is one of his best films, made on the run like so many of his others. The world would be a better place if more people embraced movies like this one."

"This one is on the list for nostalgic reasons, plain and simple. I saw it on TV as a child (on my mom’s recommendation, if memory serves) and knew I was watching something completely different than the rest of the brainless fare to which most kids are exposed. One vivid memory I have is of being scared by the film, but in that really great way kids are scared by things like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz or the Pleasure Island sequence in Pinocchio. Though I’m sure I saw it in a pan-and-scan version, I was struck by the vivid colors of the film, and the scenes with little to no dialogue must have been as foreign to me as the beginning of Wall-E was for most kids this past summer. I’ve seen it a couple of times as an adult, and thankfully it stands up very nicely."

"I love, love, love this film. From the opening credits, with the sunflowers and jump cuts, to the sociopathically ruthless ending, Varda keeps me on her hook. This film represents my worst nightmare vision of the world. Its characters are, for me, the most terrifying types in existence: people so saturated with complacency and narcissism that they are blithely amoral in their pursuit of more and more joy. At the end, when François and his new wife/childcare-provider walk off in their matching autumn-colored sweaters, I’m on the floor in a fetal position. There are a lot of little gifts in the film to help counteract the trauma: the dissolves to primary colors, the jump cuts, the woman in a red dress kissing the man hello in the café, the bright green drink on the table. The Renoir-inspired design and peppy Mozart score make the nightmare pop in an unsettling way."