At the end of the movie, a man walks into a well-appointed apartment. The scene is in very dim color, almost black and white. There is no music or artificial ambiance. There is only the noise of the room, rustling and background noises. The scene is gritty.
He is a muscular man, sweaty and grimy. He looks exhausted and injured. The tatters of his shirt hang loosely from his shoulders. His tan cargo pants are torn and blood-stained on the front of the leg, revealing a large gash on the muscular thigh underneath. He has numerous cuts, bruises and abrasions on his torso and face, but not so many as to obscure his rugged good looks. He slings the gunbelt that's draped across his shoulder onto the couch and starts to shed clothes as he heads for the bath.
Entering the bathroom, he glances in the mirror but looks quickly away from the discouraging sight, letting out a low grunt of disapproval. The tub is a large, round, jet pool, luxurious and welcoming. He starts the water - hot - and continues to undress. When his clothes and boots are discarded, he slides into the bath with a sigh. For a few minutes he just sits and relaxes, eyes closed, soaking up the soothing warmth. Opening his eyes, he slides down below the suface, wetting his face and hair. He stays down, eyes open, for almost a minute, and then calmly surfaces, breathing deeply but not quickly. Wiping the water from his eyes, he reaches into a small box on a low shelf nearby and brings back a cigar. He sniffs it deeply, bites a small hole in the end, spits the paper onto the floor, and reaches back to the shelf to retrieve a silver Zippo lighter. Pressing the cigar to his lips with one hand, he draws air through it as he holds the flame to the end for several seconds, getting a good burn. Once it's lit, he places the lighter back on the shelf and settles back into the bath, taking a deep draw from the cigar. He closes his eyes again.
Now the camera focuses on his mouth, the cigar gripped between his teeth on one side. Slowly, the corners of his mouh stretch into a smile. The smile becomes a chuckle. The camera remains focused on just the man's mouth as the chuckle swells into a huge laugh. Then the screen goes dark, and credits, simple white type on a black field, begin to roll silently up from the bottom of the screen.
Most of the audience is annoyed or pissed. They hated the ending. The good guys were all dead. The bad guy was laughing. Some music may have made them less uncomfortable, but the words passed by in irritating silence.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
