"I always defend this movie. Some people hate it. I love it, although I am not in a rush to watch the first half again… There is a scene near the end of the film where it is just Monica Bellucci and Vincent Cassel lounging around their apartment. One of those lazy days you have with a partner. They were a real life couple and that chemistry shoots through to the film. You can tell they are madly in love. I always break into tears at this moment. It puts everything you’ve seen prior into heartbreaking context. The film is a tragedy told in reverse. I think it’s brilliant because by the design of its structure, it makes you think about the tragedy more than if you were just experiencing it in chronological order. Instead of getting to the end of the film and rooting for our protagonist to bash this guys head in, we get to the end of the film and think about how pointless all that pain and violence was and how heartbreaking it is that the violence destroyed this pure love."

"I forget who turned us on to this, but it came out in the era of films like Shaft and Superfly. The guy from Harlem is supposed to be this cool suave detective fella’ who found that there were too many cool, fly detectives in Harlem and moved to Florida. That’s the whole thing. Honest to God, it’s the kind of thing — if Tim Meadows saw this, it could have been one of his characters, because nothing ruffles him but he acts like a spaz and an idiot so many times during the film that you can’t help but laugh. He’s always trying to be super suave at the same time, though, so it’s amazing. I think that it’s one of those films where the producers hired a lot of friends and family members to do onscreen performances, because there’s at least one moment when you can tell the guy on camera, he doesn’t know a single one of his lines. And yet he flubs his way through what you think is ostensibly what he’s supposed to say, and then gets to the end and that’s all he does in the film."

"After Adrian and I broke up, and I moved into my new house, I bought myself a record player. Or, actually, if either of my kids are reading this, Father Christmas bought it for me [laughs]. Not that I think they'd be reading The Quietus yet – they're six and eight – but start them young. My mum brought me some records, and this is one she used to love when I was really small, although I only vaguely remembered it. I've always loved Maddy Prior and June Tabor's voices, though – do you know June Tabor's Abyssinians? That's an amazing record, full of depth and darkness, both in the singing, and the material. But listening to this…it made me think I'm sure it subsconsciously affected the way I make music. The way the women's voices interweave to tell their stories reminds me very much of the way Becky and I sing together, although she didn't remember the record at all! The band's also fantastic, including Martin Carthy, Nic Jones and Andy Irvine. The effect of this record on me is what I'd love to do every time making music."

"In high school, I worked at The Video Room in Oakland, California. It had the largest selection of laser discs in the Bay Area. One guy owned all of them. I was smugly aware that most people were watching movies entirely wrong, and would tell them so. I’d explain aspect ratios and assure my friends they’ve never even really seen Jaws until they’d seen it at my house on the Pioneer, hooked up to my dad’s concert amplifier and massive stadium speakers, my own rig. I watched more movies during that time than I did in film school. The Manchurian Candidate was one of them, and it was just [on a] different level. I went in thinking it would be a masterfully directed political conspiracy thriller, which it was, but was also completely bananas. I couldn’t believe some of the choices made. That film gave me permission to get a little bit weird in my storytelling. Once you’ve seen an old lady execute a Korean POW while Frank Sinatra looks on in complacency, you know you can go to crazytown and the audience will stay with you. It’s not easy, but it’s possible."

"I included this one because sometimes you can read things into records that aren't necessarily there. In the mid-80s I had my first proper girlfriend, we had an on/off thing for ages and then we finally split up. On the Thursday before, she gave me this Marianne Faithfull LP, so in the aftermath of the split I listened to it and heard lots of like 'ooo she's sending me a message through the songs'. I got to know the record quite well, I wallowed in the self-pity. I happened to meet her in Sheffield about 20 years later, was speaking to her and I mentioned to her about that record and she just said 'I knew we were going to split up and it was on offer at WH Smiths, it was only three quid so I just thought I'd get you that'. She'd never listened to it and wasn't making any points or comments to me at all. It shows how you as a listener bring a lot to any record. I didn't tell Marianne Faithfull the story when I worked with her... I should do shouldn't I?"

"Corky Romano. I love that film. Literally, that’s one of the only films I’ve pissed my pants at. Like, I actually pissed my pants. The first time I was in L.A. I was watching it on TV. The scene where he’s on coke…was literally the only thing that they advertised, it was like the only point of the whole movie! I love that character. I love how Chris Kattan just stripped his whole career in one movie. The only guy off Saturday Night Live who just messed it up! It’s like, what happened? The only guy. That’s why I think it’s so great. I also love the behind-the-scenes stuff on the DVD where none of the crew are laughing; the director’s [hiding] and he’s telling Chris Kattan, “Just do something funny, just make Chris Penn laugh,” and none of the crew think it’s funny at all. And you can tell Chris Kattan is just freaking out. Also, he had that vein, which I have [Pattinson points to his forehead] which pops out of his head. I can really relate to him."