Wow them in the end, and you've got a hit

The 10 best movie endings are delineated in today's Independent by Anthony Quinn. I've seen six of the 10, and I heartily agree with his inclusion of The Third Man (perhaps the best movie ending ever), The Conversation (a practically perfect ending to a practically perfect movie) and Chinatown, of course.

The inclusion of Chinatown allows me to address, for the first time, the title of Blog. "As little as possible" not only indicates my affinity for brevity but also serves as a tribute to an almost inaudible line at the conclusion of Chinatown. SPOILER ALERT. Jack Nicholson (as private eye J.J. Gittes, my namesake) has just witnessed the shooting of his lover by trigger-happy cops. He stands by the scene, blank-faced. You can see his soul shriveling up. After a moment, his mouth mutters, "As little as possible." The line is almost impossible to hear on first viewing, yet it makes the movie. People remember "Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown," but it has a fraction of the emotional devastation of "As little as possible."

Earlier, we learn that Gittes was once a detective in Los Angeles' Chinatown area, and that he left (or was forced out of) the business when a case went wrong and someone got hurt (presumably a love interest). When he's asked what he did on the Chinatown beat, Gittes wryly admits he and his colleagues were encouraged to do "as little as possible." Why fight corruption if it only results in strife? At the end of the movie, Gittes finds himself again in Chinatown. Again, his well-intended meddling has resulted in the death of someone he cares about. He doesn't scream or cry or rend his clothing; he simply chastises himself with a whisper. "As little as possible." It's a line that encompasses the futility of his existence. It's a killer.

What would you add to Quinn's list? My top pick would be David Mamet's House of Games, which ends on a seductively sinister note. Who knew the quiet theft of a gold cigarette lighter could be so damn delicious?

Update / 10.23.07, 6 p.m. / I forgot to mention that there is at least one other blog out there that takes its name from a line in Chinatown. This would be Bad for the Glass, a culture blog. "Bad for the glass" is uttered several times by Faye Dunaway's groundskeeper. It proves to be the clue on which the plot hinges.

The censors take on filters: casting a pall (mall) on the alluring, noirish coolness of the movies

The ditherbrains at the MPAA are now factoring the act of smoking into their rating considerations. Fine whatever. I don't have any use for the MPAA. (I don't have any bloody use for it!) If the wellbeing of the youth of America is at stake, then they should've slapped any of the Austin Powers movies with an R rating and made Requiem for a Dream a PG. It still boggles my mind that Almost Famous was an R. And that Whale Rider was PG-13 instead of PG or G. Whatever.

The point being: Yes, on rare occasions (i.e. when I've had a stinger, or four) I do pop a cigarette in mouth. I do this because I am drunk and therefore inured to the harmfulness of the product. And because I like to imagine myself as part of a movie. There, you have my confession. Movies can make smoking look cool. Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart were the parents of this coolness. (Of course, if you listen too closely, you can hear cancer in their famous voices.) But if I so deign to smoke a cigarette, I make sure I'm backlit. It's only proper.

Public service announcement: In real life, smoking doesn't make sense. I fail to understand how people get hooked on it. It tastes like garbage and sours your complexion and puckers your lips and stains your teeth. I'm less concerned about the health problems and the dying. All I have are my looks, and I'm not about to give those away. Especially to something that tastes like garbage. It doesn't make sense.

Anyway, the point of all this poopycock:

1) I want your favorite smoking moments from the movies, just in case we never see anyone smoking in a movie ever again. My favorite is when Faye Dunaway fumbles to light a cigarette in Chinatown, and Jack Nicholson informs her that she's already got one lit. Smoking in this case is aesthetically pleasing, contextually appropriate and serves a narrative purpose. Dunaway's character is clearly on edge about something...

2) If a studio wants to secure its film a PG-13 or PG rating but needs a character to convey a sense of alluring, noirish coolness, what should said character do instead of lighting up? My vote: snap into a Slim Jim.