What she wants him to see are the people—the gaffers, the carpenters, the wardrobe mistresses and the staff at the canteen and the nameless odd-jobbers who keep the whole bag of dreams running under the notice of the stars. He calls them "units" when he first comes to Colossal, thinking in terms of production, as in a factory. She makes him see her.

And her job makes the issue of visible/invisible work splendidly literal -- she puts in what we're shown as rather gruelling physical work in order to then step out of the way and be replaced by the immaculate image of the star.

The last entry in his datebook is "Propose to Miss Plum," which he does with no finesse and a great deal of heartfelt. They don't even end the film on a kiss or an embrace, just a shy grinning at one another, hands fumbling closer: "Oh, Miss Plum . . . I'm sure we're going to be very happy." You suspect he's right, too.

His breathless little hand-to-mouth gesture after they kiss is a joy. He looks so wasted (and not just because of having recently been trampled by a large crowd).

Also I love the fact that she EMPTIES THE ASHTRAY FOR HIM, and it's that which prompts the wonderstruck "Oh, Miss Plum . . . I'm sure we're going to be very happy" in the last moment of the film.