A Raw, Warm, Deep‑Cut Dive Into the Films That Shaped Him
In this latest episode of Criterion’s cult‑favorite series “Closet Picks,” the fantastic one‑of‑one Steve Zahn lets everything spill — in that loose, funny, totally unpretentious way only he can. Pulling titles from the Criterion Collection that have inspired, challenged, and moved him throughout his career, Zahn steps out from behind the characters he’s embodied and speaks directly to the films that shaped his artistic consciousness.
Steve Zahn turns movie nerdery into pure character-actor gold
From indie-film awakenings to cult-classic picks, Zahn brings that one-of-one warmth that makes the Criterion Closet feel less like shopping and more like story time.
He kicks things off with a grin: “Hi, I’m Steve Zahn and I’m in the Closet. And this is really exciting.” And from there, it’s pure cinephile joy.
Zahn talks about growing up a “suburban kid” who listened to “the top 20 songs” and watched whatever everyone else watched — until cinema cracked him open. He remembers seeing Straw Dogs, then Birdy, the first independent film that truly shifted his perspective. Suddenly he wasn’t renting The Outlaw Josey Wales “for the 15th time” — he was wandering Blockbuster asking, What’s that?
Then comes the big one: Richard Linklater’s Slacker — the film that turned him on to independent cinema. Zahn calls Linklater “one of the greatest filmmakers of our time. Period.” It’s the kind of reverence that tells you exactly how seismic that first viewing was.
From there, he pulls Jim Jarmusch’s Mystery Train, then reaches for Paris, Texas, immediately pivoting to the soundtrack: “You got to listen to the soundtrack… Ry Cooder. It’s one of the best.”
He grabs Miller’s Crossing, spiraling into a classic Zahn riff about disappearing for ten years, going fishing, and then having the Coen brothers suddenly go, “Hey, what happened to Steve?” It’s charming, self‑aware, and very him.
His comedy picks are just as heartfelt. He calls Some Like It Hot “genius” and places it in his personal top five. Then comes Being There, where he gushes over Peter Sellers — “frickin’ genius” — before laughing at himself for momentarily forgetting Hal Ashby directed it.
And then he pulls George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, remembering how off‑kilter and shocking it felt as a young viewer. He even contextualizes it against 1968 and Vietnam, marveling at how wild it was that someone made that movie then.
By the end, Zahn steps back, looks at his stack, and signs off with: “That’s it. That’s my picks right there. Over.”
Closet Picks has long been a cinephile’s treasure chest, spotlighting actors, musicians, and cultural figures as they trace the films that shaped their craft. But Zahn’s installment stands out as a raw, reflective, deeply cinematic journey — a rare glimpse into the mind of a creator who has been captivating audiences for decades.
