I was both watching, and innocent-bystandering in, a movie. It was about a young supermodel "throwing her life away on drugs". In the penultimate scene, the model, in her fancy digs, receives a visit from her agent, who is attempting to confront her about her multi-drug habits. The model's response is to disappear into some room, get high on something(s), and reappear, face covered in Mimi makeup, visage scrunched à la Jenny McCarthy-style mugging for the cameras (it looked just like that -- Jenny in Mimi's grotesque blue mascara, etc.), and do a parodic, bumbling, defiant, runway "walk" in the kitchen.

The last scene, and the young supermodel, for some reason, is suddenly now a male model (still super-), and he's outside his apartment building in Boston after the visit from the agent. It's a winter morning, slush on the ground and streets. The model's with a couple of buddies, and they're about to go off joyriding or something, with the young John Goodman-looking member of the trio behind the wheel. The Goodman figure attempts to start off by doing a donut, but the car barely budges, stalling in the middle of the street, where it gets rear-ended by another car.

Then the cars, and the two buddies, are inexplicably gone. We're left with the model, and a narrator's voiceover (speaking for, or as, the director of this docudrama), with the text of the narration also scrolling up the screen, in part explaining what I already knew -- the model, in real life, had had a wisdom tooth knocked out in the collision, and his failure to find it in the slush of the streets had left his face disfigured, ending his modeling career. And here, I'm no longer a fly on the fourth wall, but I'm in the street, bending down to pick up the lost wisdom tooth behind the model's back, as he goes walking away, and I can feel that my own mouth is missing the tooth. The narrator/director continues about how the model walked several miles through the city that morning, barefoot in the slush, in search of the lost tooth, failing to find it; the model's now offscreen, and there's this first-person view -- the camera ambling down the slushy sidewalks of the Back Bay, circa 1968, the pavement briefly interrupted by a picture of Red Auerbach in the Herald. The narration ends with an apology for having to end the film in this way, rather than being able to report that the model had, in fact, found the tooth and had it reinserted, saving his career.