"“I did this song for an installation at a museum in Montreal, I covered it in one of the rooms in his memory and it was really an honour. It was all of his life and achievements as pieces of art in the museum, and they asked artists to showcase his art so that people could see those that he influenced. “I really love this song. I know that he speaks of the Second World War and I think that’s not often spoken about, considering how much pain it brought the world. Also, in art and music we don’t really paint or sing much about it but it’s important that people talk about it, because it’s something we carry on our shoulders and we did it to each other as a species. “I think about it a lot, but it’s good to distance ourselves from the memory too. I have a few songs about the matter, though some are more obvious than others.”"

"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."

"Like Xanadu, it’s a phantasmagoria – but more menacing. A lone teenage gal and her dog hit the (yellow, brick) road and pick up a trio of men along the way. Try pitching that idea to a Hollywood studio! The only film in recent memory with a similar story was the lugubrious indie Wendy and Lucy, which I couldn’t even finish. Maybe a flying monkey or a smartly dressed munchkin might have perked things up."

"Quoting, from memory, one of the many questions posed by the multiple voice-overs by celebrity Marines who lined up to enlist in Malick’s comeback film as though Pearl Harbor had been attacked just days before: “Why is man pitched against man in eternal struggle?” Because it looks so good on-screen? Something to do with Heidegger? Darned if I know, but happy to watch repeatedly in the hope of finding out."

"After spotting a then-unknown Delphine Seyrig in a New York theater production, director Alain Resnais cast her as the female lead of his superb and enigmatic meditation on time and memory, then enlisted Chanel to transform his ingenue into a star. The exquisite gowns she designed are integral to the film’s highly influential visual design, and Chanel and Seyrig began a long-lasting friendship, united by mutual respect and their devotion to the cause of women."