data gaps

Yes, I love [my] movies. And they’re honest movies. Whether they’re good or bad is another story. But at least they’re movies that tell what I know. […] It doesn’t make any difference whether it’s a crappy film or a good film. Anybody who can make a film, I already love – but I feel sorry for them if they didn’t put any thoughts in it. Because then they missed the boat. […] As an artist I feel that we must try different things – but above all we must dare to fail. You can fail in films because you don’t have talent, or you have too much humility, or you lack ferociousness. I’m a gangster! If I want something, I’ll grab it. […] I don’t want recognition. Recognition is a pain in the ass. But having a good time is not fruitless. Or having a bad time is not fruitless. Making something indelible is what I want. Something concrete. There are no rules. Just get together with good, decent, artistic people and value them – because they’re the only ones who will help you.

Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.

[…] Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself, the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another’s soul.[…]

.’Death’ is our only dirty word. And King Lear is about death and the approach of death, and about power and the loss of power, and about love. In our consumer society we are encouraged to forget that we will ever die, and old age can be postponed by the right face cream. And when it finally does come, we’re encouraged to look forward to a long and lovely sunset. ‘Old age,’ said Charles de Gaulle, ‘old age is a ship wreck’—and he knew whereof he spoke. The elderly are even more self-regarding than the young. To their dependents the elderly call out for love, for more love than they can possibly receive, and for more than they are likely—or capable—of giving back. When old age tempts or forces a man to give away the very source of his ascendancy over the young—his power—it’s they, the young, who are the tyrants, and he, who was all-powerful, becomes a pensioner.