In Gallipoli, the ending sequence mirrors the opening sequence to draw the viewer's attention to the destructive nature of war. This is emphasized by the film ending with a freeze frame of Archy being mowed down by gunfire. The use of a medium shot helps to emphasize his movements and facial expressions as he runs (5). This, along with the repetition of the sound of the whistle indicating the start of Archy's run, along with the simple sound of heavy breathing, reveals the similarity between the opening running scene and the final sequence of the film. In the opening sequence, Archy's run was seen as an act of freedom, created through the smile on his face and the warm lighting created by the sunrise. However, in the final scene, the prolonged, dark orchestral music and the abundance of cross-cuts between shots help to create suspense. Loud diegetic sounds of screaming and devastating war sound effects build up until the final sequence which in turn creates a sense of fear (6). The disparity between the two scenes is how Archy ends the race both times. The first time he is seen running, he wins the race and begins the journey that the viewer undertakes with him as the protagonist. However the second time he runs he is shot and the screen goes black and the film ends. While the viewer expects the protagonist to live, as happens in most films, his ideologies are questioned and he is left with the harsh reality of the destructive nature of war, without exception. Through the final sequence, along with its ties to the opening sequence, the destructive nature of war is evident as a key demonstration throughout the film. Peter Weir uses violence to emphasize the destructive nature of war as…paper…on his side, which makes them feel like they are doing the right thing (1). Explosions are also seen to differentiate Kotcheff's filmmaking style from Weir's as they are used continuously throughout the film. Julian Murphet explains that in the film “the suspension of disbelief” (2, p. 48) occurs, for example, when we witness an explosion. The viewer enjoys this suspended disbelief long enough to feel as if he or she is experiencing a thrill, but is free from the suffering of the thrill. They are comforted by this idea, and so these explosions become somewhat spectacular. As Monaco (2009) explains, it is only the viewers' perceptions that experience these moments, and yet they are so powerful. The audience is attracted both by this spectacular explosion and by the feeling of being close to the protagonist, which makes Kotcheff's film so seductive.