"In the number five position, I would — again, choosing among many possible candidates — I think I would put The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. There are John Ford westerns that are more picturesque, that are more sweeping, but that’s a movie that distills an idea of history and depicts — granted, in a kind of mythologizing way, but in a very astute and complicated way — the process of historical change in the American West. That movie is just fascinating to me, and it has sort of a dissertation’s worth of ideas in it, but they’re so well embedded and dramatized, and the performances are so interesting. Jimmy Stewart, to me, is such an interesting and in some ways misunderstood actor, because when you see him, he’s so angry so much of the time. In Winchester ’73 and even in It’s A Wonderful Life. When he comes back to the house in that movie, he says, “Why do we have all these kids anyway?” and he’s just furious."

"I’m desperately trying to find a way not to include His Girl Friday because it’s kind of been touted a lot. But it’s my favorite romantic comedy couple on screen. I think Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in that picture are roughly as great as Beatrice and Benedict in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. That’s how great they are. It’s my favorite Cary Grant performance because it combines the leading man side of his persona with this crazy farceur. I just love hearing people talk as fast as most people think. And I love the fact that they condense this three-hour play into whatever the running time is — ninety, ninety-two minutes — and they basically didn’t cut anything; they just got it all in. I adore this film. That first scene… You watch that first scene when she comes back to the office, and it’s 10 of the greatest minutes of romantic byplay ever, and it’s beautifully performed. I revere Hawks more highly than I do John Ford, and that’s saying something. For me, if you don’t have a Hawks film on that list, you’re lying."

"I’m not in love with John Ford’s movies. They are staples, and it’s like saying you don’t like bread—Ford’s films are in all filmmakers’ foundations, somewhere, it’s inescapable. But when it comes to being in love with movies, I’m more of an Anthony Mann girl. Having said this, Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln is one of the most beautiful films ever made. The images early in the film of Henry Fonda in his thick, unruly, natural environment of rivers and briars and brambles strike my heart in ways so deep I can’t even explain. The majestic landscapes Ford would be later known for are much more grounded here, more personal. What he shot reminds me of a home so far ago lost. And there is a feeling of that, deeper than nostalgia, running all through this film. It’s like a grand American ache. Henry Fonda explains on the commentary how he initially turned the film down, then the screenwriters went to his house and READ HIM THE SCRIPT! Out loud! What balls! I can’t imagine anyone doing that these days. Then he said yes to the part, did the screen test with the fake nose and flipped out when he saw himself as Lincoln and felt he couldn’t do it—he couldn’t play someone with that weight that Lincoln had and still carries and holds. Well—I won’t spoil it for you—you MUST hear what very simple ingenious thing grumpy old Ford said to get Fonda to do the role. Supporting Fonda’s performance is an incredible cast—Alice Brady in her final performance before her early death, Ward Bond, and Richard Cromwell (whom I had a real sweet thing for)! The booklet is just as poetic as the movie, with essays by Geoffrey O’Brien and Sergei Eisenstein between the pages of lovely quiet stills of a very accessible yet long-gone American landscape."