"I got four, and there’s one more. It’s a biggie. And again, this is one that’s maybe a little bit of a stretch in terms of it being a con man movie, but I actually don’t think so. It’s F for Fake. If I was numbering these, this might be number one. It’s a movie that’s really hard to define. It’s pretty commonly termed a filmic essay by Orson Welles on the subject of fakery, but it’s a lot more than that. It’s so many things. I don’t even know how to start talking about it. At its essence, it is about what we were just talking about. It’s about the charlatans and fakery and the notion of fake versus real, and the notion of the con versus legitimacy, I guess. And he just digs into that pretty deeply. And also in a way that’s so incredibly entertaining. The way that the movie’s cut, also, you would think that, today with our shorter and shorter attention spans and our notions of fast cutting, you would think that the way that Orson Welles, the style in which he cuts this film, would be easily absorbed by us. But I actually… You know, I have friends of mine who are much, much younger than me. You know, it actually took a second viewing to kind of absorb the film. I mean, it really is still pretty insane, the abstract way that Welles cut this whole thing together and made the whole together work. I feel like he’s absolutely self-aware; that’s part of the act. That’s what’s fun. And that’s why that opening sequence in the train station, you see him putting on that character and very much doing the… You know, I think he’s aware of it. I think he’s also aware that it’s kind of funny, that that’s part of the gag, you know, is pretending to be somebody you’re not, putting that on. Putting on that big cape and that big hat, and being that guy. And, you know, if you’re Orson Welles, you can pull it off."

"Well, I think one thing is I love seeing the 15th century in black and white, in the 20th century. The physical imagery… that scene in the balloon at the beginning of the movie, the way that it’s cut together and the way that it functions and what he’s looking at. The sound, the music. Tarkovsky is one of my favorite directors and I think there’s just a great abstract quality in his films, where you see something and, as you’re looking at it, it transforms in front of your eyes. Things happen that you can’t believe you’re looking at — a horse falling down a flight of stairs; all of a sudden there’s a moment where you’ve got Christ, in the snow, carrying his cross up a hill. The kind of subliminal violence that occurs — when this guy gouges the eyes out of one of those journeymen, artisans that are leaving the reconstruction of a church; the apathy in the violence reminds me of the W.H. Auden poem, “Musee des Beaux Arts.” The old masters, they really knew about human suffering. And I guess in that particular film, what I’m thinking about is the length of the takes, and the surprise of what you actually see being filmed. The way slow motion is used in that movie also; the way that movies are not like that anymore. The scale and the depth of field of what you’re seeing is vast. So there’s a poetic quality to that. I’d have to mention The Passenger also, because there’s a moment when Antonioni has Jack Nicholson sticking his arms outside of a cable car, and for that moment you just have this sense of observing observation — that’s a big part of moviemaking to me, or painting. That kind of filmmaking, where the camera is still but everything around it is moving, and moving at different speeds, is something that I’m attracted to."