[on his last day's work, in November of 1990, on "Hudson Hawk" (1991)]: To top this day of release, upon landing at Heathrow, the euphoric headlines smashed out across every London paper declare that "Thatcher Is Out!". Me too, Margaret. And none too soon. She, no doubt, "out of her mind", and me, equally unhinged with joy to be FREE! Of Hungary, "Hawk" and HER!!!

[on Wah-Wah (2005)] Because it took so long writing it, directing it, and getting it out in the cinema, it was very satisfying to do. Being able to address my pretty dysfunctional childhood from the safety of middle age proved to be a very rewarding experience.

I did Hudson Hawk (1991) with the best of intentions. It had a great cast and looked great on paper and my agent said it would be a big success. You go into something thinking it's going to be the next big thing. You're wise in retrospect but I regret doing that.

Hollywood is fear-filled. You only need to be there when the sun is not shining to notice the grim determination and the need to be on every billboard. Every meeting has some agenda. People smile in case you might be of use 10 years down the line. If you are successful everyone is your friend. God forbid that you are in a movie that's a clunker.

When I see actors talking about world peace, it makes my sphincter weak. There is a difference between Emma Thompson talking about a world catastrophe and--God!--Demi Moore talking about it. Goldie Hawn talking about the elephants has a different impact than Joanna Lumley. Sometimes Hollywood doesn't seem a million miles from a Miss World contest. I just don't have strong enough mental furniture to withstand it.

You finish a movie and you think, there, you've done it really well, or best you can. But if you watch it, you see it was just bollocks. You have to look at the discrepancy between what you hoped and imagined and the reality of yourself and all your shortcomings. You only see your own failure. I'd rather stick with the first idea--just have the experience of working--and leave it at that. You've got to protect the old bravado.

What is there now? Famous people running away from explosions. That's it. They call it production values. Audiences will queue round the block to see an unimaginably highly paid film star running away from a fantastically expensive explosion. They think it's their money's worth. I despair that's what people have to do.

Hollywood is on what they call a shit tide, meaning a tide where stuff comes in and goes out very quickly. People come in, get a part in something, get in a magazine, then they go away and you never hear of them again. The sun shines, the level of paranoia is bottomless, and everybody you meet has an agenda. And that's it. Show business, 24 hours a day. If you're doing well, you're a target, nobody's interested in you except how you can be of use to them. And you can't engage with anyone, you can only engage with their agenda. It is all very antisex.

It's a chicken-and-egg situation: You've got to get name actors in order to get the finance, and in order to get the name actors you've got to bullshit that you've got the finance, while all the time you feel the whole thing could just unravel, the wheels come off the pram, everything conspires to make you sink into a pit of self-pity and despair.

When an actor asks you to read his script, your heart sinks. The number of scripts I've been given by actors that are so unbelievably terrible! It's well known that actors are lousy writers.

I'm still star-struck. I'm thrilled to say that hasn't changed. I think it has a lot to do with coming from nowhere and going somewhere. Where I grew up all there was in live entertainment was a drive-in cinema. I'm very aware of the leap from there to here. Ultimately, I think I'm too curious and enthusiastic to take any of it for granted.