The Human Rights Watch Film Festival 2013

The Human Rights Watch Film Festival begins this week in London, with a number of screenings and events taking place across the capital. The programme contains a diverse collection of films that aim to investigate human rights abuses around the world and bring these situations to a wider audience. Here is my take on four of the highlights from this year's festival.

Jai Bhim Comrade

Jai Bhim Comrade begins in 1997 with the killing of 10 unarmed members of the Dalit community, who were protesting the desecration of a statue of Dr Ambedkar, an inspirational figure for these people. A few days after this massacre, the poet and singer Vilas Ghogre visited the scene of the crime and he was so shaken by the events he committed suicide. This is where Anand Patwardhan – who used Ghogre's music in one of his earlier films – started filming, and over the next 14 years he continued to amass footage, which he has now edited into an engrossing and illuminating three-hour examination of caste discrimination in India. The Dalit people are regarded by many people in India as "untouchables"; they are fit only for the most degrading manual labour and are treated with disdain as they walk the streets cleaning up after those from more respectable communities. In Jai Bhim Comrade, Patwardhan explores the complex history of the country's societal distinctions and exposes the oppression that they face every day, while also telling the story of Vilas Ghogre and keeping tabs on the criminal trial of the officers who opened fire on the Dailts.

That Patwardhan can keep tracks of these various strands of his sprawling subject without ever letting the film feel baggy or unfocused is testament to his intelligent filmmaking. He has a patient, inquisitive approach that allows him ample time to investigate every aspect of the topic in eye-opening detail. He gives voice to a wide spectrum of people during the course of the film, whether they are politicians or members of the downtrodden Dalits, or simply upper-class citizens who don't think twice about airing their bigoted views. The film's most potent tool, however, is the soundtrack, as Patwardhan incorporates numerous protest songs into the film that tell the story with clarity and heartfelt urgency. One of the most striking scenes at the end of the film focuses on a group of young protest singers called Kabir Kala Manch. In a troubling postscript, we are told that they have been forced into hiding after daring to speak out. Jai Bhim Comrade is a brilliant film about politics, injustice, racism and social inequality, but above all it's a film that listens to people who most desperately need to be heard.

The Parade (Parada)

When the LGBT community in Serbia bravely attempted to stage the country's second Gay Pride parade in 2010, the result was a day of riots, violence and hatred as right-wing hooligans and the police (both of whom outnumbered the actual marchers by around 6 to 1) fought running battles. Srdjan Dragojevic's The Parade takes place one year earlier and details the aborted attempt to stage a Pride march in 2009, with his satirical take on the story focusing on a group of homosexuals and homophobes who are unexpectedly forced to work together. Prior to the opening credits, a glossary explains the various derogatory terms that Serbs, Croats, Albanians and Bosnians have for each other, before revealing that they all share the same word – "Peder" – for homosexuals. When Dragojevic introduces us to his four principle characters, they are painted in such broad strokes they initially appear almost cartoonish. There's ultra-macho ex-gangster Limon (Nikola Kojo), his trophy wife Biserka (Hristina Popovic), gay wedding planner Mirko (Goran Jevtic) and his partner Radmilo (Milos Samolov), who drives a pink mini and has to be taught to act like a man in a scene reminiscent of La cage aux folles.

These characters are all given depth by the expert performances from the cast and by Dragojevic's smart script, which takes every opportunity to skewer the codes of Serbian machismo and the thoughtless homophobia that is rampant in the region. The first half of The Parade is terrific fun, as it cleverly draws together the disparate characters and contrives a way to make them co-exist in an amusing manner. The picture loses a bit of its spark when Limon and Radmilo are forced into a cross-country road trip to recruit additional security from Limon's ex-army pals, and the longueurs of this segment push the picture unnecessarily close to a two-hour running time. Watching these initially antagonistic characters bond is still fun, however, no matter how predictable it may be, and the picture has a stirring finale, which epitomises Dragojevic at making us laugh while never letting us forget the very real threat of violence that gay people face in homophobic societies.

Salma

Kim Longinotto has spent years travelling the world and making documentaries about societies that oppress women, and in Salma she has another remarkable story to tell. Salma is the story of a Tamil woman in her 40s who is currently respected as one of India's most prominent poets and female activists, but the true magnitude of her achievement in gaining such a position is only revealed by examining her past. It is common practice in many Islamic Indian communities to withdraw a girl from society when she has her first period, and to keep her locked inside until a husband is found for her. This is what happened to Salma, who was imprisoned by her parents for years until she finally acquiesced to marriage, and then found herself locked up by her husband's family, eventually spending over two decades effectively under house arrest. Throughout this time, Salma was writing poetry about her experiences, and when she finally smuggled these poems into the outside world, the publicity they generated ensured her overdue liberation.

As Salma revisits her past, Longinotto is an unobtrusive observer, with the director always being alert to particularly telling moments. We see her subject telling teenage girls that they have to stay in school, but her advice is contradicted by the many women who repeatedly tell them that this is simply the way things are, and that women of this faith have a role that they have to play. The way in which Salma has overcome the obstacles in her life is truly inspirational, but Longinotto plays that sense of emotional uplift against the backdrop of so many women who never find such a way out. In one haunting shot, she films a wedding, in which a teenage girl is being married to a much older man. As celebrations go on around them, Longinotto's camera moves in to the girl's face; she looks so vulnerable, so afraid, so young.

War Witch (Rebelle)

Many films have explored warfare from the perspective of a child, but perhaps it makes most sense for a film set in Africa to take that approach, considering the way children are regularly forced to take up arms on that continent. Canadian director Kim Nguyen's War Witch is the story of Komona (Rachel Mwanza), a 12 year-old girl abducted by rebel forces from her home in the Democratic Republic of Congo and forced to kill her own parents as she is turned into a soldier. Nguyen augments the horrors of what Komona witnesses and experiences with a magic realism that allows him to create some striking images, notably the white ghosts that walk the land in front of Komona after she has killed. This careful balancing of contrasting tones is a vital component in War Watch's success, and Komona's romance with fellow soldier Magicien (Serge Kanyinda) gives the central section of the film a tenderness that is all the more moving for being surrounded by such horror.

This focus on their relationship also gives dimensions to characters who might have existed as little more than symbolic figures in a lesser film. Nguyen also draws sensitive and convincing performances from his cast of non-professional actors, with Mwanza in particular being an extraordinary discovery. She brilliantly depicts the gradual hardening of Komona's soul in the face of conflict and the atrocities that are inflicted upon her, before her relationship with Magicien allows her to reconnect with her humanity. Nguyen's direction is excellent, attuned to both the emotional journey of his characters and the world they exist in, which is defined by its violence and belief in magic as an everyday part of life. Given how many shoddy and manipulative films we've seen about African troubles, It's easy to be suspicious of western filmmakers who travel to the continent seeking sensationalist fare, but Nguyen has delivered a portrait of an African child soldier that is surprising, nuanced and ultimately very moving.

The Human Rights Watch Film Festival takes place from March 13th - 22nd

"I'm sure a lot of people think women like me threaten their society or their values, but that's not the case." - An Interview with Haifaa al-Mansour

Under any circumstances, the release of a debut film as engaging, confident and moving as Wadjda would be a cause for celebration, but Wadjda was not made under the usual circumstances. This is a film from Saudi Arabia, a country with no cinemas, and it has been written and directed by a woman in a country where women don't even have the right to drive a car. Haifaa al-Mansour's film tells the deceptively modest tale of a independent young girl who desperately wants to own a bicycle, and through this story it exposes the everyday oppression faced by women in Saudi society. The release of Wadjda feels like a watershed moment in Arabian cinema, and I met Haifaa al-Mansour to discuss it.

Can you tell me how you first discovered cinema?

I was one of 12 siblings. My parents are very much Saudis so we have this big family, and I think they wanted to show us something just to keeps us calm, so that was the first time I got introduced to films. As a little kid I grew up in a very small town in Saudi Arabia and I saw the world through films, they taught me that there were other things like great mountains and rivers that we didn't have in Saudi. They were not intellectual films, they were all mainstream Hollywood, Bollywood and Egyptian cinema, which is all that we could access in Saudi Arabia as we didn't have a culture for film or art in general. But they had a power, these films, especially the American films that took me on an emotional journey.

Did any of those films influence your directorial style? In Wadjda your filmmaking is very simple and observational.

To shoot a film in Saudi I feel it has to be this way. Saudi Arabia is a very closed country, people don't know how other people live or the politics inside the home, so I wanted to just put a camera in there and let people experience that and I felt that neo-realism cinema was the best approach. I don't pretend to be philosophical, and if you can bring in reality and show how it is then the complexity is already there, you don't have to reinvent it.

Is that why it was important for you to tell this story through the eyes of a child?

It is common sense, you know? When we grow up we lose our fresh eye to reality and when things are wrong we often just accept them. When you are little you have this kind of innocent questioning where you don't accept when things are not right because you have not yet been programmed that way. Of course I wanted to bring that fresh eye to Saudi Arabia because it can be really crazy [laughs]. I don't really mean crazy, just different. There are things that don't make sense and we really need to put them in context.

I was struck by the contrasts in the film. We see Saudi girls having to conform to the codes of society when they're out in public, but when at home we see Wadjda in her bedroom listening to pop songs. The difference from one side of the front door to the other is remarkable.

Yeah, absolutely. Privacy in Saudi Arabia is a big deal and there is a huge difference between what is on the streets and what is inside the homes, especially when it comes to women, because women can exist semi-normally behind closed doors but outside they have to be covered and cannot express themselves. But I feel now that Saudi Arabia is changing a lot, because young girls don't want to be put into that rigid form. They want to break away, they want to find their own voices, they have the internet, they have Twitter. Waad Mohammed, the main actress, she came to the audition and was rocking an 80s style, with this great hair and jacket and Hi-Tops, and I could not believe it. She doesn't speak a word of English but she still listens to Justin Bieber and is part of this big world. Many of the old boundaries aren't there anymore.

How does the Saudi government feel about those disappearing boundaries?

I think they want to push the country towards modernisation. They want moderate voices. They are of course still part of the Arab world and I understand the politics there, but they do not want extremists. They are starting a lot of kids on scholarships, I'm sure you have seen a lot of them in London or in the US, and they want them to be exposed to the world, to be accepted and not be part of this hostility towards other cultures. So they are trying to push things forward and not to maintain the status quo.

I guess that tension between the old and new ways can be seen in how you shot the film. You were granted permission to make the film by King Abdullah, but you still had to hide out of sight when on location.

In Saudi Arabia there are TV dramas happening all the time. They shoot TV series, and they have no problem with the authorities because they get permission, but it's the conservatives who tell them "You can't go there." The people who live in this conservative culture think that TV is corrupt and women should not appear on TV, they should stay at home. So if they don't accept that, then for sure they won't accept a woman coming into their neighbourhood to make a film. Other neighbourhoods are more tolerant, but yes, Saudi Arabia is still a conservative country and it's hard for them to see a woman working. So while I wanted to make the film I also wanted to respect the culture, because the ultimate goal is just to make a film, not to create conflict with people. I want Saudi people to see this film and understand that I am trying to give them a human face, through the story of this little girl.

Do you feel that positive changes are now being made in Saudi Arabia?

There is a gap between religion and culture, and people are changing a lot. Five years ago, people were so strongly against any kind of culture or entertainment, and now the percentage of people shifting towards wanting films and theatre is increasing day by day. A lot of it is down to young people, I think Saudi Arabia is 65% or 70% young, so those people are responsible for making a change.

As well as this film, you have made TV programmes and short films tackling the issues of a woman's place in Saudi society. Is it important for you to be a feminist filmmaker?

I don't try to be a feminist, but if I am a feminist then that's good! [laughs] I don't try to make a film for a message, I make a film for a story. But for sure, women's rights and women's issues in Saudi Arabia is a big thing, and as a woman living there I want to tell stories about myself and my sisters, and I want the situation to change. I have a daughter and I want her to have a better life, I want people to respect her, I want her to feel she has ownership of things, and I feel Saudi Arabia still has a long way to go for that to happen. Women still need to fight more, to stick together, to voice their demands, and making films is one of the ways to do that. But I just want to make films that I feel and relate to, stories from my world, rather than making a film that is feminist.

Do you think the exposure of this film will embolden other female Saudi artists to make their voices heard?

Not only female artists, because Saudi Arabia's conservative culture can affect men and women. For example, if a man falls in love it can be hard for him to be with that person, so I would love to see all young people to feeling strong enough to make a film. It takes a lot of courage to make a film, to put yourself out there, especially in a place like Saudi Arabia which has such peer pressure and is so tribal and collective. It is very hard for someone to think as an individual.

As a very prominent and outspoken Saudi woman, what kind of reputation do you have among the public at home?

It's a very mixed reaction. [laughs] A lot of people like and respect what I'm doing and have liberal voices, they are pro-women and want to see people like me coming forward and speaking for them. But a lot of people are still very conservative and they don't like that I appear on newspapers or TV talking for women. I am a moderate voice so I feel that there is a little bit of respect there, because I am also trying to engage them in a dialogue, I don't try to push them aside. I respect them and I want them to respect me so we can talk, and we can influence each other. I'm sure a lot of people think women like me threaten their society or their values, but that's not the case.

How do you go about making a film in a country with no cinema culture?

That was really the hardest thing. I am very grateful to the producers from Germany, Roman Paul and Gerhard Meixner, because without them the film would never have been done. I had to co-produce with Europe because we don't have cinemas in Saudi Arabia, and it is very hard to find funding in that unique place, they were very reluctant to put money into the film. So it was very hard, and nobody believed that we would be able to go to Saudi Arabia and shoot there, they felt it was a huge risk. But having producers who believed in a first-time director and were willing to take that risk with such commitment makes me feel I was so lucky to find these producers. We went through some very weak moments when the film was in danger of not happening, and it got saved at the last moment. Because Saudi Arabia does not have a film history people would rather fund films from Egypt or Lebanon because they are more established, they know how to market the films and where to put it, and for us it's a bigger risk. We went up against that a lot, and if this film is a success I hope it encourages more production and funding in more local talent.

And what about the actors? Were they a mixture of professional and amateur actors?

Most of the actors didn't have any experience and it was very hard to find actors. For a lot of people in Saudi Arabia being in front of a camera is very immoral and exposing. We saw a lot of girls but we didn't find many who could capture the spirit, and we were looking for girls who perform in local theatre and Waad was one of those girls, but she never had real acting experience and her learning curve is amazing. From the first day, second day, third day she just knew how to capture the camera and how to give all the emotions. We developed this understanding because it was really hard for me sometimes to direct from inside the van, but if I would just talk to her she would understand, and it was really important that we established this intimate relationship between director and actor. Reem Abdullah, who plays the mother, is a very established TV actress. She is very famous, she's the "it girl" in Saudi. But it required a real transformation from her because TV acting in Saudi is very different from film, and she did an amazing job. It took her a little bit of time in the beginning but after that she really transformed and it was amazing to see how hard she worked in rehearsal. She was crying on the roof for real, I said "Action" and she had real tears, so she gave a lot emotionally and exposed all her feelings. It was an amazing thing for a Saudi woman.

Has Wadjda been shown for audiences in Saudi Arabia?

Not yet. We are hoping to show it on TV for sure and we will try to push it for a cultural screening in the museum, or some kind of screening for the public. We are trying to push it here and there and we'll see how it goes.

Review - To the Wonder

The first startling thing about Terrence Malick's To the Wonder is the very fact of its existence. After The Tree of Life was released in 2011, we might have expected that to be the last we heard of the director for a number of years, given the extended periods that tend to elapse between his films. Instead, To the Wonder appeared just over a year after his previous picture – by far the shortest gaps between two Malick films – and even as this film arrives in cinemas, Malick is already at work on two other pictures (given the proximity and cast overlap of these films, they may yet form a loose stylistic/thematic trilogy). All of which begs the question – who are you and what have you done with Terrence Malick?

The second surprise is the first thing we see. The images are grainy, indistinct, and a far cry from the breathtaking imagery that a Malick film normally consists of. It soon transpires that these shots have been captured on a mobile phone, which is wielded by an American named Neil (Ben Affleck) as he and his lover (Olga Kurylenko) enjoy a train journey. This opening immediately establishes To the Wonder as a film set in the here and now, and while one strand of The Tree of Life took place in modern times, this is the first entirely contemporary film that the director has ever made. In making this move, it's hard to deny that Malick's filmmaking has lost one of its most potent qualities. The films he has made since ending his two-decade exile from filmmaking have played out on increasingly epic canvases; the Second World War, the birth of America and even the creation of the universe itself. Perhaps it was inevitable after The Tree of Life that the director felt the need to scale back his focus, to tell a more intimate tale, but in doing so he has lost the mythic element of his previous work, and made a film that risks feeling insubstantial and flimsy. But To the Wonder does feel like a natural progression for Malick, in that he continues to push his filmmaking style further into abstraction and impressionism with every film he makes.

The characters in this romantic drama barely exist as characters; I don't believe they are even named within the film, and I only learned that they are called Neil and Marina from the closing credits. Malick is making a romantic drama here but he has chosen to omit the details that most films of this type would include as default. We are given little information about the central relationship, and instead we have to divine clues from the way they interact through their movement and body language, and the whispered ruminative voiceover that accompanies the typically sumptuous visuals. This is bad news for Ben Affleck, who has never been the most subtly expressive of actors, and in To the Wonder he often appears lost; timid and unsure of what exactly Malick wants from him. He barely even gets to share his thoughts on the voiceover track, and in a movie in which he is ostensibly the "star" (although this status is a slippery notion in Malick's films) he ends up looking like a confused passenger, while the lithe and luminous Kurylenko literally dances circles around him.

Kurylenko is an ideal muse for Malick, as she is so adept at using her body to exhibit her feelings. The manner in which her character pirouettes through fields, streets and supermarkets made me think of Pocahontas, whom Q'orianka Kilcher played in Malick's The New World, and who was similarly uprooted from her home life to try and settle in a vastly different environment. This film is far less narrative-driven than that picture, however, and it can be hard for us to get our bearings as we see episodes from this couple's alternately loving and turbulent relationship gliding before our eyes. The only hints of a plot emerge when Neil briefly begins a relationship with a childhood friend (played by an affecting Rachel McAdams) and when the film focuses on Javier Bardem's priest, whose desire to help those in need is stymied by his struggles with his own belief.

These disparate elements don't always cohere but director finds numerous ecstatic, intimate and moving moments as he and his team of editors piece them together, while Emmanuel Lubezki's cinematography remains one of the wonders of the cinematic world. Of course, if the more outré elements of Malick's style tend to leave you cold, and if you yearn for the cool, streamlined approach of Badlands, then this is not the film for you. So much of To the Wonder finds Malick indulging in the kind of filmmaking that leaves him open to ridicule – his use of dance as an expressive tool, his soft-voiced internal monologues, his unswerving commitment to finding beauty in all things – but his sincerity, inclusiveness and curiosity is still enormously touching and inspiring to me, and I find it impossible to imagine that anyone but the most cynical of viewers could find nothing to connect with in his latest picture.

After finally making The Tree of Life, it feels as if a particular chapter in Terrence Malick's career has ended and a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders, with To the Wonder marking the first step in a more experimental, relaxed and prolific direction. Malick's constant evolution as a filmmaker searching for a newer and purer style of cinema, exploring our relationship with the universe around us, and questioning the boundaries of our faith, marks him as one of the most fascinating and precious artists working in cinema. To the Wonder is perhaps the most problematic film he has yet made, but its images and unusual rhythms have already got under my skin to the point where I'm itching to see it again. Terrence Malick can still create a state of wonderment like few other filmmakers.

Review - Cloud Atlas

David Mitchell has said that he had the thought "It's a shame this is unfilmable" as he was writing Cloud Atlas. Less than a decade later, Lana and Andy Wachowski, with the help of Tom Tykwer, have taken up the challenge, although the question of whether or not the book really is unfilmable probably depends on what you think of their finished product. Mitchell's acclaimed novel tells six stories spanning centuries, beginning in the middle of the 19^th century and building up to a passage set in a far-off future, before then working back and completing the tales in reverse chronological order. It would be an enormous undertaking to adapt this book into a single coherent film, and the filmmakers certainly deserve some credit for pulling it off to the extent that they have.

I wish I could give them more credit than that, but actually getting Cloud Atlas to the screen is as far as their achievement goes. In tackling Mitchell's complex narrative structure, in which the self-contained, tangentially linked stories are nested within one another, the Wachowskis and Tykwer have chosen to tell the tales in parallel and cut frequently between them. Each of these threads is connected in some way to the next, and the filmmakers attempt to further unify the whole piece by having the same core group of actors play the key roles in each segment, with their performances transcending age, race, nationality and gender. All of which means that Cloud Atlas is a film unlike any other, but not necessarily in a good way.

Chronologically speaking, Cloud Atlas begins on a ship heading for the Pacific Islands in 1849, where American notary Adam Ewing (Jim Sturgess) is being poisoned by a nefarious doctor (Tom Hanks). Over 80 years later, we find young gay musician Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw) leaving his lover (James D'Arcy) to travel to Edinburgh, where he acts as an amanuensis to veteran composer (Jim Broadbent) and works on his Cloud Atlas symphony. In the 1970s, Halle Berry is an investigative journalist who unearths corruption at a nuclear power plant and finds her life in danger as a result. In modern-day London, Broadbent again appears as a publisher landed in water when a gangster-turned-author (Hanks again) demands payment for his unexpected bestseller. We're in the future now (keep up!), 2144 to be precise, and Neo Seoul is a dystopian society where a female "Fabricant" played by Doona Bae may be the chosen one to lead an uprising against an oppressive regime. Finally, in a post-apocalyptic time described only as "106 Winters after The Fall," Hanks and Berry reunite as two tribe members trying to unlock the secret that lies at the top of a mountain, and spouting a lot of incomprehensible gobbledegook as they do so.

Phew! The first thing to say about this collection of narratives is that it's too much for a single film to contain. There are too many competing storylines, too many clashing styles and tones. The best part of the film is the 1930s segment, in which Whishaw and D'Arcy manage to find moments of wistful tenderness, and it might have made a decent standalone film in its own right, but chopping this story up and throwing it into the blender with five other films of varying quality only diminishes them all. The romantic yearning of Frobisher's tale rubs uncomfortably against the Matrix-style trappings of the Neo Seoul sequences, the visually dull and dramatically inert '70s business, or the excruciating broad comedy of the 2012 sequence. The manner in which the film hops between these underdeveloped storylines is erratic and the editing fails to illuminate the parallels between the film's disparate strands in any kind of interesting way, only causing a long film to feel baggy and bloated. I've watched four-hour movies that feel shorter than Cloud Atlas because the film is never allowed to build a natural flow or momentum. Every time I started to get drawn into one of the narratives the film would suddenly cut away to another storyline, and this sense of stunted rhythm, of consistently having to readjust, made it impossible for me to connect with the drama.

The other distracting element of Cloud Atlas is the cast. The actors all seem to be having the time of their lives, and why wouldn't they be? It's not every day you get asked to play characters young and old, male and female, and of varying races, all within the same movie. Tom Hanks throws himself into every part with admirable gusto (his Irish gangster has to be seen to be believed), but we never forget that we're looking at Tom Hanks behind that ridiculous prosthetic nose or set of false teeth. When we're required to be scared of a marauding cannibal, the effect is neutered by the fact that said marauding cannibal is played by Hugh Grant, and asking Jim Sturgess to don Asian eye makeup in order to play a heroic Korean freedom fighter is simply asking for trouble. I understand what the filmmakers are trying to do here; the multiple performances speak to the film's idea of connectivity, of souls or a consciousness existing across time, but by the time we see Whishaw disguised as a woman for a single shot, or Broadbent as a Korean beggar barely noticeable in the background, it starts to look like nothing more than a flashy gimmick.

It gives me no pleasure to criticise Cloud Atlas. Independent films this ambitious, sincere and inclusive will have viewers in their corner by default, all willing it to succeed so we can applaud the audacious gamble. There is disappointingly little to applaud in this film, though. It seems as if all of the filmmakers' imagination was expended on the conception of their adaptation, and nothing was left for the execution of it. For all of its spectacle, Cloud Atlas has very few memorable shots, and few moments when the filmmakers express something visually rather than hammering their themes home through the incessant narration and trite homiletic dialogue ("My life exists far beyond the limitations of me." "What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?"). The Wachowskis and Tykwer set out to make the modern Intolerance – a grand statement on love, freedom and the human condition – but the only truth we are left to ponder at the end of it all is an uncomfortable one for the filmmakers to face. It looks like Cloud Atlas really was unfilmable after all.

Paul Thomas Anderson on Robert Altman

When Robert Altman made his final film A Prairie Home Companion, a standby director was required as no insurance company would cover the film without one. Paul Thomas Anderson acted as Altman's backup on the set, saying, "Any hesitation? None. None at all, because I knew he wasn't going to die." Here he describes Altman's last moments as a director.

"The last day we shot the last scene, the one with Kevin with the garbage falling and him playing piano. That was the last thing we shot. And Bob definitely had a melancholy feeling about him, in his face. Because of the way the shot was, we were shooting the whole stage, so Bob was tucked over in Guy Noir's office. Sometimes you get in these horrible places where you just have to be for the shot. And he had a Starbucks coffee in his hand and his coat was zipped up because it was kind of cold in there and he had his glasses on. He was staring at the monitor and he just looked really sad that it was ending. I think we only did the shot twice. I remember sitting there thinking, "Fuck, do it again, do it...do more, do more." I wanted to do more – not cause it wasn't good, but I wanted to keep shooting."

"Oh, I didn't figure on this making me sad. I thought, "Oh great, I get to talk about Bob." But it's making me feel like I'm sure everybody feels – they really wish they could call him up. Yeah, fuck! Horrible, sad. He was so indestructible for so long."

Quotes taken from Altman: The Oral Biography edited by Mitchell Zuckoff