I grew up in a South Central L.A. ghetto neighborhood — on the corner of 59th Street and Slauson Avenue, to be specific. Every day seemed as trivial as the last. I was never aware of the constant danger surrounding me. I didn't even have an inkling of my family's own poverty, though I had my suspicions that, crammed as we were, three to a room (in a cold apartment that only had two bedrooms and one bathroom for 6 people), we were not exactly middle-class. Even though my parents could tell I was going ... somewhere (and even though they fought to get me where I am today), it was all behind-the-scenes for ten-year-old me. As far as I…

Nothing happens. It's perfect.

I think everyone, at some time, has fantasised about making a film like Killer of Sheep. Not necessarily when they were in a creative mood, just when they were hanging out with friends or walking through their neighbourhood and just observing life, and thinking "Why does no-one make a film that's like this?" The thing is, it's almost impossible to make - unless you're Charles Burnett.

Burnett opens with a sterling example of Derek Cianfrance's rule about a great opening shot teaching you how to watch the movie. A young man, in close-up, shot in lustrous high-contrast black and white, with what seems to be an angry inner voice berating him. Then Burnett pulls out a…

the power is in the images, not the movement. there is no set story or plot. this is a piece about a community and a mindset and a family just trying to survive. the weary, slumped shoulders of the slaughterhouse worker is contrasted with children leaping from roof to roof. a motor that could have brought prosperity breaks and sheep are led to slaughter. the images are discordant but related- they stare into your soul as the (outstanding) soundtrack plays in the background.

brutally neo-realistic, it's spare enough to become harsh poetry. burnett does not editorialize. he does not explain so much as he lets you feel. the camera meanders around and strings day to day life together, letting the…

I think we have watched this film as much as anyone. It surprises me when people write that they don't see a storyline. Yes, the film is primarily a poetic vision of children and how they experience life: the games, the danger, and the tears. But life's harshness has led to father Stan's inability to sleep, his numbness to everything around him, even his beautiful wife. Yet he retains his integrity throughout it all, and keeps trying, past the failings, such as with the engine. Even after a failed trip out of the neighborhood, there's a new pregnancy that gives hope for the future. And at the very end, he sees his wife and daughter, and there's finally a slight…