The face of this man (Jack Nicholson), who kills for love, or money, or some combination of the two. Or maybe it's just for kicks. Wherever people try to make themselves into something good and decent, wherever a man tries to make that one last score, wherever a woman feels like yielding to a fellow, he is there. In a town where the law is kill or be killed, die or die later, he is always watching, always waiting for his chance, and revealing himself only in the final reel, with the City of So-Called Angels spreading below him like a still-warm bloodslick. Forget it, Oscar. It's … somewhere. Pull back to reveal: a wild, unpruned lemon grove.
- THE END
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