"This is Bruce’s first album and probably one of his best. There’s a richness and naïvety on this record that ends up in these lyrical paintings that speak something dear to my heart. It’s about my home, and it’s in a language I understand. I always felt like this was “our” record. The people like “us” who were outcasts growing up. It’s one part Dylan, one part Van Morrison, and then there’s this Marlon Brando part that encapsulates the beautiful losers. There aren’t any winners on this record, only people in “Lost in the Flood.” Even the brighter moments have a sadness to them. “Does this Bus Stop at 82nd Street?” says it well: “Drink this and you’ll grow wings on your feet.” Since reality is so hard, at some point the fantasy takes over. Fantasy, and die hard belief in a different life just over the horizon. It’s that fantasy of rock and roll that some people are too affected to believe in anymore. But this record helps me keep the faith in the childlike wonder of music, and rock and roll in particular. This was my rulebook starting out writing songs. It still is. For the lost, for the lovers, for the crazies, and everyone in between—""For You."" It was like he was saying to me and everyone I knew who lost but believed in spite of those losses, you could still win. “I came for you.”"

"When I watched Lulu Wang’s “The Farewell,” it was a bit like revisiting my own past, as the young director who made “The Wedding Banquet” (1993). Both works center on a family celebration that’s based on a fundamental lie. In “The Wedding Banquet,” the wedding itself is a sham, an attempt to hide the main character’s gay identity from his Taiwanese family. In “The Farewell,” the banquet masks the fact that the grandmother Nai Nai (Shuzhen Zhao) is terminally ill, something that is known to everyone except her: the family hasn’t told her, and so the joyous celebration is also a disguised, melancholy farewell. As a film by an Asian American writer-director, “The Farewell” operates between two cultures, American and Chinese. This awkwardness is embodied in the character of Billi (Awkwafina), who was born in China but moved to the States when she was 6 years old. Her feeling of displacement is at the heart of the film’s two most affecting scenes: first, when Billi reveals to her mother how much she missed growing up in China, how lost she felt as a child in America; and second, Billi’s farewell to her grandmother when she returns to the States. Such a scene could easily have been very sentimental; instead, it’s stoic and moving and quiet — a testimony to Lulu Wang’s control of her material, and a lovely ending to a very heartfelt and personal film."

"It is the most vexing challenge because I just find that, depending… I’m not so psychotic that my mind changes constantly on that subject, but it really depends on where you are in your life. You sort of have a rolling list of a few dozen that you cherish for different reasons. All you try to do is avoid interviews like this so you don’t get pinned down. [laughs] No, I always have trouble pinning anything to a fixed list. Why is it hard? Is it easy for you? You start thinking about the directors you leave off the list and your heart starts breaking. In chronological order, The Passion of Joan of Arc. The last time I saw that film, it struck as me as if it was an artifact from the period itself that it’s depicting. It was like a medium unto itself, and [Maria] Falconetti’s performance, it really cannot be compared to anything else. It’s beyond naturalism, it’s beyond melodrama, it’s beyond everything. It’s just coming straight out of her soul. But mainly, the last time I saw it I just had this weird time slip kind of experience where I felt like I was really seeing a mad visionary from the time who somehow invented the movie camera. [laughs] Putting on this intense pageant on this subject of intense religious devotion. I find that film a knockout. You can’t watch it lightly, but that’s all right."