If I could get myself in an editing room, that'd be trouble. I mean, that's how it works, you know? You leave everything on the field. I would pick apart - I do, even on the first time. More than once is just too much self-destruction. I don't need that.

In tragedy, it's hard to find a good resolution; it's not black and white: it's a big fog of gray.

I try to leave my work at the door when I leave the set. It's almost like summer camp. You go in hard, then you leave, and it's done.

I think carrying your gut, or your instincts, through all the learning, is one of the most important things. You learn to prepare for a part in different ways, you learn to experiment, what you do for the character - you try working in different ways.

I was constantly surprised by how things took shape, whether it was something that was funny or [sharp] or some of these more simple, quiet moments in the woods. Honestly I would say everything and nothing. I honestly don't think it's different than on any other film [Swiss Army Man]. I think I would probably ask questions of everything always.

It's a constant learning process - not just what you need to learn for the character or as far as good actors - but as an actor, there's no limit. Every time now, you're learning so, I think that's a good thing though.

Reading the script [Insane Farting Corpse], by page two or three, I felt that way. I thought, I'm in. It was so beautiful and insane and funny and I wanted to see it happen.