My absolute favourite film. Apichatpong is an alchemist: desire draws you into the reality of what you desire, and that reality devours you. It reminds me of Snake on my mother’s Nokia 3310. The final scene is a spell.

The aura of this cast… I keep coming back to the arcade scene, which ends with a circular tracking shot on the character’s gaze. The lyricism of the mise-en-scène, laid over people who could explode at any moment, makes the intensity of these teenagers feel all the more sensitive. I feel very close to that tension.

I’m deeply moved by Lain. She lives entirely on a threshold and eventually loses herself there: a ghost in the cloud, a virtual soul while still alive. There is something about that adolescent loneliness that makes you slip into another reality. I find that idea endlessly inspiring. The atmosphere of the anime is so good, and so are its silences.

I remember being struck by this film before I had even seen it. There is something in the way memory seems contaminated, like the premonition that something is already happening, somewhere between vision and reality. Everything seems to belong to the same world. This is definitely my language.

One of my obsessions: separate lives ending up touching, connected by an invisible thread, by technology or by the earth. The film seems to pass through matter and emerge somewhere else, as if the world were continuous. It feels almost physical. The first time I saw it, it brought back the same excitement I felt as a child watching Casper travel through the electrical wires of a TV.

Chris Cunningham is so sharp. I just love the intensity he puts into every detail. It brings me somewhere else.

This film feels like ambient music to me. I’m deeply inspired by the meditative and metaphysical vein of Gakuryū Ishii’s 90s work (Angel Dust, August in the Water, Labyrinth of Dreams), and by the way he transforms consciousness into a physical space you can enter. I experience these films very instinctively, and I find them strangely feel-good. I had Mirrored Mind in me when I went to China to shoot In My Head with Estelle Chen.

I find the way Park Chan-wook uses visual effects as emotional extensions incredibly inspiring, as if they were the exact form the characters’ emotions had found in order to exist.

The way imagination emerges within everyday life without ever breaking away from it.