"I was really into musical theatre. I was the dorky kid who listened to Evita on my walkman as I walked down the street smoking, thinking I was so cool. A couple of my favourite records from that era really speak to that. This is a super theatrical record. The songs are stories and portraits of characters. The music doesn't suggest it, but you can totally see that shit onstage. I just loved it. I loved the immediacy of Marc Almond's vocals. Again, just a totally believable singer, not phoning it in."

"The masterpiece. I keep an American Cinematheque membership; they do an amazing job of regularly screening classics (including many from the Criterion Collection) at two great theaters in LA. Bronwyn and I had the privilege of attending their screening of Seven Samurai at the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica last year. Seeing this on the big screen, among the more talked-about aspects of this film, the unexpected humor really shines. It was the shortest, most engaging three and a half hours I’ve ever spent in a theater."

"This is a song that mixes humor and sadness beautifully. My wife and I went to see Jason in Red Bank, NJ at the Count Basie Theatre a couple years ago and this was a song I wasn’t familiar with a the time but it immediately registered with us both. I went home and found the record it was on and I think it’s a heartbreaking song with a little bit of laughter to ease the blow. It will also make you think twice about covering Hendrix… you never know who’s watching."

"This is the only book on the list you don’t actually have to read. PBS and Masterpiece Theatre are already filming the umpteenth version of it. Unlike Gatsby, Pride and Prejudice is always ready for its close-up. Austen’s characters have a charisma that make actors want to play them. But her prose is pretty terrific, too, and the sheer fun of reading Jane Austin is a good reason to curl up with one of her books, especially this one. You’ll fall in love with Mr. Darcy, too. And then you can dream cast him in the next re-make."

"When I was in my early twenties, I worked as an usher at London’s National Film Theatre. They showed L’avventura with an earphone commentary instead of subtitles, but because I was working I couldn’t listen to the translation. Of course, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand a word of Italian—it blew me away regardless. The power of the compositions, the rhythm of the editing, the tone that is established from the opening frames. I decided for a while that if I was going to make films, they should all feel like Antonioni’s. I soon realized I wasn’t up to that challenge."