"A miracle of discontinuity and absurd tomfoolery, but with the help of a fantastic music track and a great measure of talent from everyone connected—including the costume designer—it took off and never touched ground again. I first saw it in France, with no subtitles, and thought it was a wonderful story. When I saw it later with subtitles, I realized I’d gotten it all wrong. It was a completely different story. But it turned out not to matter. It’s simply a wild film ride. And the joke for me was that I thought I understood French."

"It’s a French movie, pretty recently that I just – and I’m not alone, it was, like, the biggest movie of the year around the world – but I just love it so much. It’s so great. It’s about a friendship between two guys: one who is a super rich guy who is a paraplegic and his caretaker, and the friendship that comes of that working relationship. It’s funny, it’s real, it’s sweet, it’s moving. I cried, l laughed — it’s just a brilliant film. And I’m not surprised it did as well as it did. It’s so good, it’s so good."

"Even with a nod to some of Hollywood’s best navel-gazing films, I will make a case that this is the best film ever made about filmmaking—made by one of the most self-referential of all filmmakers. Visually lush to the point of a Powell and Pressburger surfeit, Godard’s film lays bare a marriage in crisis. The long apartment sequence between Bardot and Piccoli is a dystopian analogue to the hotel room playful casualness of Seberg and Belmondo in Breathless. A back-to-back viewing of the two sequences constitutes a minihistory of the French New Wave. Raoul Coutard’s cinematography and Georges Delerue’s score give the Greek myth parallels of the film’s story line (and of the film-within-a-film trope) a sensuous subtext—music and image caressing the body of the star of And God Created Woman. It’s great to see Fritz Lang and Jack Palance, two polar opposite cinematic icons, in a room watching dailies. Below the screen is a running legend that reads, “Cinema is an invention without a future. Louis Lumière.” The film’s opening long shot over verbal titles—as the BNC anamorphic camera approaches the viewer along tracking rails, then pans and tilts so that Coutard’s lens points right at you—is one of those great “gotcha” cinematic moments."

"Jules Dassin was an American filmmaker who moved to Paris to escape Joseph McCarthy, Roy Cohn, and the rest of the HUAC thugs. In the City of Lights he managed to make the most French gangster film and best heist movie ever. The actual break-in and robbery scene (based on a real burglary in Marseille at the turn of the century) happens over an astoundingly tense twenty-six minutes of silence. It is unforgettable. Dassin himself plays the role of the Italian safecracker Cesar under the pseudonym Perlo Vita and showed himself to be as adept in front of the camera as he was behind it."