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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.