Hollywood, a night in 1969, the death of cinema - Tate was kind of sad that night, Dalton, one of the era’s greatest pupils, was saying goodbye to his career while getting drunk with his stuntman, a criminal hippie is ranting about how the media's violence shaped the society she lives in and there is some porn film premiering somewhere around the corner. The preservation of some ideals, or rather some images, can only happen in something like cinema, which can resist the unquenchable march of time, but in doing so you can also end up as a blind man with no memory in an old ranch, climaxing a small western film. Is there a way to reconcile reality and fiction? Reality resists fiction which resists reality, but a young racist girl gets burned like the nazis did in that film which an actor starred anyway.

There is a very touching scene midway here where Tate enters the cinema to watch 'The Wrecking Crew', a film in which she stars, and while she isn't recognized in the entrance of the theater and doesn't contribute much to the small scale film, she is happy to be able to pose for a photograph and especially to hear people laughing at what she represented in screen. It's great to be able to make other people feel something, it is so beautiful being able to preserve something that you believe in for as long as it lasts. Cinema, the only place where Lee can get beat up by Pitt in a fight, also the only place where we can see the latter smashing a young girl's head against the counter, the only place where we can preserve those ideals of masculinity and conservatism forever, the only place where Tate can continue smiling and dancing and drinking and living on. All the dreams and nightmares of the world.