I Was Very Surprised That For A

What If I Told You Insane Was Working Fifty Hours A Week In Some Office For Fifty Years At The End Of Which They Tell You To P*ss Off; Ending Up In Some Retirement Village Hoping To Die Before Suffering The Indignity Of Trying To Make It To The Toilet On Time? Wouldn't You Consider That To Be Insane?

My Favorite Review Described Me As The Cinematic Equivalent Of Junk Mail. I Don't Know What That Means, But It Sounds Like A Dig.

I Hope I Don't Make It Sound Like It's This Big To-do, But Even Putting On Real Cufflinks Takes Work.

I Guess I Don't Think About Age Too Much. I've Always Felt Older Than I Really Am Anyway. I'm Not Dreading Getting Older. I Don't Miss The Anxiety Of Being Younger And Not Knowing What You Want Or Where You’re Going.

In The Beginning, It Wasn't Even A Question Of Deciding I'm Going To Do Independent Film And Not Commercial Films - I Wasn't Being Offered Any Commercial Films, And There Wasn't An Independent Scene.