Smoking in films is cool because they don’t have to go outside to do it. If every time Clint Eastwood wanted to smoke a cigar he had to leave his whisky on a makeshift shelf, shut a fire door behind him and stand under a corrugated plastic canopy with a sixteen year old girl and a man lying in his own sick, I doubt he would have starred in anything after A Fistful of Dollars. Not so much to do with the fact he had to follow stupid laws which liken smokers to leppars, but because while he was outside a man would have slipped a Rohypnol/Valium cocktail into his drink. 
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