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I don’t want to situate my heroes in time; I don’t want the action of a film to be recognizable as something that happens in 1968. That’s why in Le Samouraï, for example, the women aren’t wearing miniskirts, while the men are wearing hats—something, unfortunately, that no one does anymore. I’m not interested in realism.
All my films hinge on the fantastic. I’m not a documentarian; a film is first and foremost a dream, and it’s absurd to copy life in an attempt to produce an exact re-creation of it. Transposition is more or less a reflex with me: I move from realism to fantasy without the spectator ever noticing. Jean-Pierre Melville

Citação retirada de Old Hollywood, a minha melhor contratação em 2009. À conta da qual aprendi que afinal Herzog nunca apontou uma arma a Klaus Kinski durante a rodagem de Aguirre: The Wrath of God:

He said: ‘No, I’m leaving now’. I told him I had a rifle and by the time he’d reach the next bend in the river there’d be 8 bullets in his head and the ninth one would be mine. And he had enough instinct to know that this wasn’t a joke anymore. (...)

e onde aprendi também que Faye Dunaway atirou uma caneca de mijo à cara de Polanski durante a rodagem de Chinatown:

(...) Then she threw a coffee-cup full of liquid in Roman’s face. He said, ‘You cunt, that’s piss!’ And she said, ‘Yes, you little putz,’ and rolled the window up. We were all speculating that maybe Jack peed in the cup for her. [Or maybe] she had a small bladder or something.

(Enfim, ali aprende-se muito todos os dias.)