Robert Altman
February 20, 1925 – November 20, 2006

“I watched Bob shoot a scene and he had a big wide smile on his face—and as the scene went on and on and on and the actors strayed from the script and got better and better, he turned and said, ‘This is the way. Good disintegration.’ […] From his work, I began to realize that I didn’t need any of the things I’d learned in the ‘How to Make Movies Book’. There didn’t have to be lessons or a moral to the story; things could drift in and out and stories could ramble and be more effective in glimpsing moments of truth rather than going for the touchdown. They could be long, they could be musicals without people singing, and they could be dirty and smart at the same time. Beginnings, middles and ends could all flow delicately together in any order, and weren’t even needed to be a great film. Things could just happen without explanation or too much fanfare, and the results would take care of themselves. This has been Bob’s great contribution: it doesn’t have to be spelled out. If it’s there and an audience wants to take something, they are free to. And we are lucky audiences because of it. Bob lets his mind wander and allows us to enjoy it. He’s nice to us because he’s good to his instinct. It’s hard to find heroes in Bob’s movies. Most of his characters are just folks trying to move along without too much fuss. Bob’s films taught me to trust that the most interesting thing—the only interesting thing on screen—is the people.” — Paul Thomas Anderson