"I would say Kes by Ken Loach. It’s a story about a 12-year-old kid in the middle of England in a very poor area. He finds a kestrel – it’s like a small eagle – and tries to tame it. He goes to the library and steals a book about how to tame and educate a kestrel. And there is this scene – he’s always dismissed in class; he has nothing to say – and one time the teacher asks each pupil to tell a personal story. Every pupil has something really flat to say, and suddenly he stands up and he tells his story about his kestrel, and he becomes animated and he’s completely inspired, to the point that his teacher comes to see his bird."

"Apart from increasing the level of actual synchronicity in my real life, reading Carl Jung's Synchronicity has been a pleasant stroll down subjectivity lane. In it, Jung subtly introduces the concept of a woven fabric of time and space that brings us together — past the laws of causality and the physical world — a mutual resonance between individuals beyond our understanding. As we each reflect the grandiose forces of the universe on a micro level, repelling and attracting events and other individuals, the solar system simultaneously plays the backdrop to our personal dramas on this planet, sweeping us up in greater cycles. All I gotta say is I'm a fan of attributing meaning to this process; I'll take Jung's ‘meaningful synchronicity’ over ‘pointless coincidence’ any day."

"Satrapi grew up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution and its aftermath; Persepolis is the story of her childhood. Through Marji’s youthful (though not-always-innocent) eyes and mind, we see a turbulent moment in history unfold, and we witness the tremendous impact that local and global events and politics can have on even the most intimate moments of personal lives. We experience with Marji her day-to-day dreams and struggles, from family strife to wrestling with religious faith and custom. We’re swept up in her parents’ anxieties and her grandmother’s memories of an utterly different era. And we get a very real sense of what it was like to be a woman in Iran during this intense time of cultural and political transition."

"A truly inspiring movie. Kurosawa is one of those rare directors who knows how to tell a story in the compelling way we all like to see them told on-screen. In Ikiru, we, as individual viewers, so identify with the moment-to-moment experience of the main character (played by the great Takashi Shimura) that somehow it becomes our own story. As we watch this movie, we progressively go through bouts of fear and guilt and then, by movie’s end, achieve a sad satisfaction coupled with the personal conviction that we must somehow do better as human beings. This one becomes even more moving as we get older and the story becomes closer to our own reality. This one puts me through the ringer every time."

"A extraordinary document of letters, written by a man in jail under extreme duress, as he resists the Communist regime, trying not to crumble, struggling to maintain his integrity in the face of the physical and mental punishments set upon him. These letters are not particularly romantic in spite of being addressed to his wife Olga, and in many places not even personal, but they clearly show his wit and will to survive, and in the end, they outline the tenets of his philosophy. The fact that we know he ends up as the President of Czechoslovakia and then the Czech Republic, adds to the pleasure of the reading. The many requests for tea and chocolate strike me as particularly poignant."

"It was a struggle for me to choose just one Louis Malle film, so I chose two to count as one. This one is particularly exceptional, thanks in part to the amazing performance by Maurice Ronet. Pushed by Malle to lose forty pounds, Ronet gave a hard, hopeless portrayal of a despondent and suicidal man saying good-bye to his disdainful and shallow youth. Though he originally shot the film in color, Malle switched to black and white to more accurately depict the subject matter. Listening to the commentary, I learned that Malle used this film as a sort of exorcism for himself, feeling that he had already done everything at such a young age. Deeply personal, it was his favorite of his own films."

"An American man walks across Afghanistan by himself, equipped with nothing but a rucksack, a walking stick and an enormous Kurdish dog. Who hasn’t dreamed of setting off into the unknown? Of risking certain danger to explore the other side of the earth, both geographically and metaphorically? Few people have the guts to trek unarmed through hostile, war-torn foreign territory, relying upon the aid of often isolated, tribal communities, but the rewards of seeing a landscape from that personal and vulnerable perspective are manifold. It heartens the soul to believe that we can depend upon one another as human beings, that we can subsist upon such accessible and un-rarified values as family, hospitality and respect. Be prepared to cry, though."