"When I first this record I thought, ""What's wrong with the singer's voice?"" The second time I heard it I thought, ""Fuck, that guy looks like he's a savage killer!"" By the third time I'd heard it and seen the video, I thought, ""I like these guys…"" You need the right amount of exposure to these kinds of possibilities. People have certain prejudices against certain bands based on how they look but unless you're open-minded, you never know what you're missing out on. On top of the actual music, Motörhead embodied a lifestyle too. If you looked at Phil 'Philthy Animal' Taylor, may his soul rest in peace, he looked like a punk. He was the embodiment of cool. The only other guy who ever had that for me was when Chris Cornell had long hair! You just thought, ""That guy has got it going on."" Looking at Lemmy, who looked like a badass biker, and then Fast Eddie's darkness, Motörhead was all so cool. People ask me so often to comment on Lemmy's death and I always try to switch it to a comment on his life. How about we celebrate his existence? I saw a picture of him the other day and I found myself just staring and missing him a lot. Lemmy never hurt anyone or anything as far as I know. He never had to back up that dangerous attitude with anything else, like some of the things you're seeing on the internet just now with people shouting offensive things from the stage. That's an interesting breed of frontman and Lemmy was never like that. He knew who he was. It's hard when you can't understand when someone you know is gone. They're here, then they're gone and it's final. One of the most important lessons in that is to love people that are important to you and just be nice to people. You never know how long they'll be around."

"""Alright, I’d say the first would have to be Goodfellas. I know that’s probably one you get a lot, but I remember it came out, and I was probably in about the 8th grade. Me and my buddy Dougie Thornel probably saw that at the theaters 30 times. I mean we would just go, and we would watch it, and then sit in the theater and watch it again. I can’t say enough good about it. It’s horrifying, it’s hilarious, it’s so unbelievably honest. Look, I mean, Scorsese is my favorite filmmaker. You know, the fact that I got the chance to work with him [on The Wolf of Wall Street] was sort of the mountaintop, the kind of crowning achievement of my career, and I don’t mean that in sort of how I’m perceived by the world. I just mean in terms of experience. My brief time on that movie really changed the way that I work as an actor. He’s one of these guys that makes you feel that anything is possible. I’ve studied in the Russian theater, and one of the main ways that we study was you get a scene and then you do a big improvisation about the scene and what the scene could be. That’s precisely how he worked. Each one of these scenes, you create this unbelievably vivid reality, you really take yourself to the place, and everybody feels like they are one hundred feet tall. It doesn’t matter whether you are background or whether you are craft services or anything, but everybody is so full of ideas. You make it on the day, and then he just sort of takes what he wants from that. I feel like that method of filmmaking that’s so Scorsese, so uniquely his, shines brightest in that movie. That sense of anything can happen at anytime, it’s happening right there in the moment. I think it really, really just shines brightest in that film, and that’s why it’s my favorite film."""

"A lot of Todd Haynes’ “Dark Waters” is shot from a distance. Lots of squared-off rectangular compositions, lots of corners and windows, lots of flat tracking shots. The colors are muted, greenish-gray and black. In contrast to the imagery of other films in the good old American David vs. Goliath tradition, Todd sets his hero’s very human struggle with the giant corporation DuPont in a visual framework that always looks a lot more corporate than human. It’s a really interesting choice. The handheld camera-work and bleached deserts of “Erin Brockovich” are as far away as the lighted ceiling squares and shadowy parking garages of “All The President’s Men” — the two most-famous exemplars of this genre. Instead, “Dark Waters” looks expensive, angular, and soft-edged. Even the interpolated closeups of Mark Ruffalo as he uncovers one terrible secret after another never break or mottle the movie’s palette. If it’s not stretching the point, “Dark Waters” looks a bit like it was shot on, well, Teflon. It’s a chilly, chilling approach to a drawn-out, turbulent, often soul-crushing struggle. But it makes perfect sense, considering the size and character of the corporate culture Mark’s Robert Bilott both works in and pits himself again. He’s not building a lawsuit house by house from behind the wheel of a pickup truck; he’s a corporate lawyer pursuing a huge corporation from expensive corporate offices. And whenever the movie does linger over the human costs he’s trying to redress, the effect is as gruesome as a mutilated body on a slab in a very clean morgue. These choices are a stark reminder that ultimately, even Bilott’s spectacular, hard-won legal victory is a drop in DuPont’s bucket. And it speaks to the pervasive character of the problem (not to mention the chemicals in our drinking water) that even when the good guys gain some ground, the world Todd captures in this movie is one of cold grays, smooth edges and gleaming surfaces to which nothing ever sticks. Not yet, anyway."

"I think the greatest film of all time. It doesn’t even care about anything. It has the best MacGuffin. The audiences in the west — if you’re going to transfer somebody from one place to the other, you want to spend all the money on the big gadgets that do all of the — as Monty Python says “the machines that go BING” kind of stuff. Whereas in La Jetée, just two guys lie down on a hammock, they drug intravenously, and they go, “Voila! We’re in the future.” I just love that. It’s just a Macguffin in a different culture, the different time — they’re used to different things. And for me, having traveled a lot, I always have to find out — when you show a movie to people they just say, “Would you buy this?” That’s one of the reasons you have origin films — like Superman or whatever — that takes so long in the west whenever you start to originate one, because you have to set up that this guy can fly because he is from another planet, has a nemesis, you can make him grounded when you give him kryptonite, and all that stuff. You watch a Hindi movie, and they just say, “Hey this guy can deflect a bullet with his ring because he is [Indian film actor] Amitabh Bachchan, so next question.” Literally, it is all about what each culture takes — to take as a MacGuffin and where they want the money spent. And La Jetée just doesn’t care. It’s got the greatest story and the movie — the images don’t even move except in one particular instance — I don’t want to spoil it for someone who hasn’t seen it. But it is just one of the greatest. It was made the year I was born, I was obsessed with it forever and when Terry Gilliam made 12 Monkeys I knew it was done."

"There are many compilations of Greek Rembetiko music, but I chose this one because it has some classics on it that I’ve been aware of for a long time. In the early 20th-century, after the First World War after Kemal Atatürk came to power in Turkey, there was an exchange – to put it politely – an exchange of population between Greece and Turkey and was extremely unpleasant at the time for both countries. At that time, a lot of Greeks who had lived in what’s now Turkey for a really long time, moved over and came to Piraeus as refuges and brought this music with them which was a mixture of Greek central European and Asian or western Asian sort of music and it evolved into this form of street music played by these guys called Mangas – the wide boy, gangsters, hoodlums of Piraeus in the 20s. It’s funny in Greece still today; some people don’t like to be reminded of that side of Greek history. It’s seen as anti-bourgeois – it’s the only way I can put it. The songs were about whores, smoking dope, stabbing your mates or being done over or sticking up for your mates – these classic themes – but because they were sung not only in Greek but in an impenetrable dialect that most modern Greeks would find hard to get their head around, though it didn’t really get that far past Greece itself. The history is fascinating but the music is like nothing else that I know. Also, even though I grew up in Scotland, I still feel this strong connection to the Greek side of my background, and when I listen to this music I feel I can connect with this history that I know preceded me and I don’t have a direct contact with myself, it’s a way I can understand a little bit of where I came from."