At first glance the symbolism is painfully apparent. On the set of his 37th feature film, in a makeshift studio 35 miles north of Los Angeles and a world away from Hollywood, the 80-year-old director sits in a chair, watching the action on a closed-circuit television monitor and rumbling orders into a microphone. The jauntiness of his warm-up suit is belied by the clear plastic tube that runs from his nose, behind his ears, down his chest and along his leg to an oxygen tank, a last-ditch defense against the emphysema that has plagued him for decades.
Hand-painted tiles, stained-glass windows...
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