An east European girl goes to America with her young son, expecting it to be like a Hollywood film.

Lines on screen: They say it's the last song. They don't know us, you see. It's only the last song if we let it be.
Selma: [singing] This isn't the last song, there's no violin, the choir is quiet, and no one takes a spin, this is the next to last song, and that's all...
Selma: You like the movies, don't you?
Bill Houston: I love the movies. I just love the musicals.
Selma: But isn't it annoying when they do the last song in the films?
Bill Houston: Why?
Selma: Because you just know when it goes really big... and the camera goes like out of the roof... and you just know it's going to end. I hate that. I would leave just after the next to last song... and the film would just go on forever.
Jeff: You can't see, can you?
Selma: What is there to see?
Selma: In a musical, nothing dreadful ever happens.
Jeff: [referring to Gene] Why did you have him? You knew he would have the same disease as you.
Selma: I just wanted to hold a little baby.
Selma: Clatter, crash, clack, racket, bang, thump rattle, clang, crack, thud, whack, bam! It's music, now dance!
Jeff: I don't understand. In musicals, why do they start to sing and dance all of a sudden? I mean, I don't suddenly start... to sing and dance.
Selma: There's no more to see...
Selma: I listen to my heart.
Selma: [talking about musical films] You know when the camera goes really big and it comes up out of the roof, and you just know that it's gonna end? I hate that.