Legendary director Paul Mazursky explains the endings to four of this year's Best Picture nominees

So many of my friends, all of them movie buffs, have been complaining that they just don't get the endings of some of this year's Oscar nominees. They feel cheated, let down, and confused. So, I decided to reexamine some of the films and make sure that I, at least, understood them.

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There Will Be Blood

A great, sprawling near-masterpiece by Paul Thomas Anderson, starring the divine Daniel Day-Lewis. The film describes the pains and hardships, and the ultimate success, of an oil baron. However, as his power grows, his inner demons grow worse. The last scene, which my friends found so puzzling, is actually quite simple to figure out: Both Anderson and Day-Lewis are huge bowling fans, and Blood can be read as powerful advertisement for the sport. Bowling, they tell us, can be cathartic. When you get the blues, go bowling. When your interpersonal relationships go awry, try visiting your local bowling alley. And, let's face it, if you're really in trouble and want to murder someone—try whacking him on the head with a bowling pin!


Michael Clayton

A brilliant, incisive, and thrilling film about the struggles of a decent man who stands up to fight a corrupt system at the risk of his own life. The picture features a devastating performance by George Clooney, and brilliant writing and directing by Tony Gilroy. But what the hell does that great last shot in the back of a taxicab mean? It's a medium close-up of Clooney staring straight ahead, and it goes on and on and on. My friends were pissed off by this ending. Not me. It's simple. Michael Clayton (Clooney) is wracked with ambivalence. How much should he tip the cab driver? After all that Clayton has been through, he doesn't want to take it out on the innocent man driving the taxi. For me, a perfect conclusion, reflecting the ambiguities of life. Perhaps it's a bit obscure, but why do movie endings have to hit you over the head?


No Country for Old Men

The Coen brothers have given us the perfect translation of Cormac McCarthy's great book. Superb performances by Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, and Javier Bardem, and stunning photography by Roger Deakins. Bardem scared the hell out of the audience as a crazy killer with a pageboy haircut who knocks off his victims with an air gun. Brolin was spot-on as the guy who finds a fortune in drug money and tries to steal it. And Tommy Lee nearly broke our hearts as the cop who is on the edge of finally retiring. But what does the last scene mean? Brolin is killed by Bardem, but the picture goes on and on. Tommy Lee, now retired, is visiting an old cowboy named Ellis (nicely played by Barry Corbin). The two codgers seem to mutter most of the time. Mutter and grunt. Grunt and mutter. What does it all mean? After a second viewing, I finally figured it out. Why was I so dense as not to get it the first time? The scene tells us that Tommy Lee has Alzheimer's disease and the possibility exists that the entire movie was a bad dream, a nightmare the old sheriff remembered from a dozen old cases he worked on. Once I got it, the entire film not only made more sense, I found it thrilling as an indictment of our treatment of that awful disease. Bravo, Coen brothers!


Atonement

A ravishing romance based on the fine novel by Ian McEwan. The story is told in flashbacks and quirky jumps in time and place, all done with great beauty and wonderful acting. A jealous little girl tells a devastating lie that ruins the life of a decent young man. At the end of the film we are suddenly presented with an elegant old woman, played by the incomparable Vanessa Redgrave. She is the old woman that the young girl has now become. But what does it all really mean? Why the scene at all? Are we missing something? Some of my peevish friends found it unnecessary, a too-obvious spelling out of the real meaning of "atonement." But the rationale for the scene was perfectly obvious to me on first viewing: That scene is there because Vanessa Redgrave is the greatest actress we have today and she must appear in every British film. Her performance, as usual, is astounding. The moment I saw her on the screen I began to tear up. Then, when she spoke, I was finished. I ask you, what better ending could any film have?

And there you are: Four films that I will always treasure for their perfect endings.

Paul Mazursky is the director of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, Harry and Tonto, Enemies: A Love Story, and 16 other movies, the endings to none of which he understands.