When you actually see it, it is quite strong, but there's nothing really pornographic about it. They are high-impact yet very short moments of sexuality, which makes it very confusing for the censors. If censors were merely human beings who watch a film ["Aquarius"] and come out with a conclusion about what they saw, then there wouldn't be a problem.

When was it that people decided as a society that your body is in one place and your sexuality in another place, something like a hat, or a coat, that when you leave home you hang it and when you come back home you say, "Ah! Let's wear my sexuality! I might wear it tonight"? It is something that belongs to your body.

I think the relationship [in Aquarius] with her nephew shows that she's not nostalgic. She just wants to preserve what is important to her - her records, her books, even some furniture. She doesn't want to leave that house because it is her home. That is where her kids were born. After moving so much in my life, I was touched by Clara's need to stay in that apartment. I love her life, and that may be why I connected to her so strongly. We are the most alike when we are fighting for our rights.

The only thing I know is that we came from the stars, and that we have the same material as the stars. That's all that I know. Everything else I don't know.

It's like I'm stuck in a time bubble. Memories keep coming back, and of course, memories are a huge part of literature and cinema, from "Stand by Me" to "Blade Runner."

It always surprises me when I see the director's versions of films released separately, long after the film's theatrical run.

If you take away money, if you take away the houses and things, who are we really? What is love really about? What is it to love each other? Why do we stay together, and why do all the kids split? All these questions I have really deep inside of me.