Warning: Discussion of domestic violence and abuse.
Spoilers for It Ends with Us ahead.
I didn’t go to “It Ends with Us” at 3 p.m. on a Monday by myself to dunk on it. That being said, I certainly didn’t expect to like it.
Natasha Jokic
I’m no movie critic, but I had reason to be cautious. Of course, I’d heard of (but not read) the Colleen Hoover book of the same name. It follows flower shop owner Lily Bloom through her abusive relationship with Ryle Kincaid and the rekindling of her first love, Atlas Corrigan. I knew the plot’s broad strokes and that some have accused it of glorifying abuse. So I went into the movie with one question: As an audience member, does the Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni adaptation depict domestic abuse well?
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I’m not pretending to be an expert, but I have extensively written about domestic violence and sexual abuse in pop culture, interviewed licensed therapists on the matter, and have my own personal experiences. Part of what drew me to It Ends with Us is knowing how badly our culture understands intimate partner violence — we’re still within spitting distance of the catastrophe of misinformation that was the Depp/Heard trial. Conversely, I know that meaningful depictions of trauma can literally change lives — I’ve felt it myself.
The promotional material for the movie immediately raised alarm bells. I saw advertising that stressed the friendship aspect of the movie: “Grab your friends, wear your florals,” as the official TikTok account puts it. Had I not known that the novel was about abuse, I doubt I would have understood it beforehand. As someone with PTSD, I like to be warned before being exposed to content that depicts sexual or gender-based violence and make the decision that’s best for my health.
Natasha Jokic
Director Baldoni said he made this movie for the real-life Lily Blooms. While he isn’t in charge of how the movie is marketed, is a film with no content warnings or helpline information best serving this?
The depiction of the beginning of Lily and Ryle’s relationship felt incredibly moving to me. The warning signs are there from his first appearance — he kicks over a chair in an angry outburst — but we are encouraged to look past it, given his looks, class, and charm.
Sony Pictures Releasing / courtesy Everett Collection
Unlike her first love (more on that later), Lily is the one who is then pursued, and her boundaries are gently eroded at every step. She wants to be friends, but she suggests a kiss after much drinking and pestering. She tells him to stop multiple times before they are together. She’s even explicitly warned not to date him by his own sister, played by Jenny Slate, who tells her that “a normal person would just leave.”
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These moments are played as romance, which is where I think the read of this movie as romanticizing abuse comes from. To me, it’s a surface-level interpretation of what’s happening here. While Lily, the POV character, is treating this as playful, it’s the start of the long degradation of her boundaries, which we know happens over time in abusive relationships. As an audience member, I felt wholly uncomfortable when Ryle said that he’s “not a stalker” on her roof — only to be told by Lily to stop showing up at her work a few scenes later. Another cut of this movie could easily play this for horror.
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That being said, I think it’s important that we see that Ryle is charming and that the chemistry between them is palpable. The uncomfortable reality of domestic abuse is that there are moments of love and happy memories. When we miss that, we risk flattening the survivor narrative into one of, “Why didn’t she just leave?”
Sony Pictures Releasing /Courtesy Everett Collection
I was reminded of when I spoke to Matt Lundquist, a psychotherapist and founder and clinical director of Tribeca Therapy, who told me, “The only responsible question to ask as a therapist, when somebody comes in and they’re recently out of a bad relationship, or they’ve had a string of bad relationships, the relevant question is, ‘What is it about these individuals that was compelling to you? How did you find yourself in these relationships?’” To me, this movie answers that question.
When it came to the actual depictions of physical abuse, I thought they were done with care and weren’t remotely gratuitous. In the first instance in particular, it is shot so quickly and confusingly that we are left with the same question Lily has: Was that on purpose? We later see just how much Lily is the unreliable narrator she says she is, but I liked that this moment used visual language to put us in her shoes. Their relationship escalates to the point where Ryle walking in with a magazine made me squirm; I gasped when I later saw bite marks.
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Flashbacks are often used to contrast Lily and Ryle’s relationship with her parents’ marriage. In one pivotal scene, as I saw scenes from the two spliced together, I thought of how effectively it juxtaposes how domestic violence looks from the outside (the terrifying physicality of her father on top of her mother) versus how it feels to be in it (Ryle insisting over and over again that he loves her).
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Personally, I felt that the relationship between Lily and her father needed a few extra scenes. How did she react after first seeing the violence? Did her father attempt to gaslight her about the experience, or did she just keep it to herself? I love much of the relationship between Lily and her mother, and I feel like it would have been insightful to gain more of a family picture.
The part of Lily and Ryle’s relationship in “It Ends with Us” that I found to be lacking was when she is able to leave him. We know that in real life, this is when women often face the most harassment and violence, which can be lethal. Did she fear working in her flower shop? What are her lasting mental and emotional traumas? Would the Ryle we know really just agree to walk away? The way their lives are entangled is messy, and we move past her pregnancy at lightning speed. By the end of the movie, he’s presumed gone. If there’s a part of this movie that can be accused of glossing over reality or overly sympathizing Ryle, I think this is it.
Sony Pictures Releasing /Courtesy Everett Collection
I also don’t like how Allysa, depicted as the ultimate BFF, threatens to “never speak” to Lily (leaving her essentially friendless) if she doesn’t cut contact with Ryle. This moment is portrayed as a great moment of friendship, but it could actually risk the victim being totally isolated.
In many ways, I wish that the movie ended with the “it ends with us” scene. Instead, we get Atlas. Let’s talk about Atlas, because I am concerned about him. I do not like that he essentially trapped Lily in a bathroom to talk about whether or not she was being abused. I do not like that he escalated things with Ryle, which would easily risk making things worse for Lily. I do not think it was appropriate that he says Lily can fall in love with him someday when her marriage is so newly in tatters. (Also, where does he go for the apparent years after that?) Without further character development, it feels mighty red flag-ish.
Sony Pictures Releasing /Courtesy Everett Collection
It’s not that I’m opposed to Atlas’ inclusion in this movie, far from it. There is something to be said about the trauma bond and friendship of two kids alone surviving through the years. I think it’s pretty obvious who Lily will end up with in the movie, and I wish the last shot had been one of her own emancipation instead. My coworker, who has read the book, told me that his depiction is more fleshed out and trustworthy there.
Okay, so this movie is not a masterpiece; the dialogue can be clunky, and moments can be absurdly cheesy. But there is something real there, something the marketing missed. I couldn’t help but think of all the times it made me go, “That reminds me of when that happened,” or “I’ve felt like that, too.” As the movie theater lights came up and I heard the sniffs and rustle of tissues around me, I got the feeling that I wasn’t alone.
If you or someone you know is in immediate danger as a result of domestic violence, call 911. For anonymous, confidential help, you can call the 24/7 National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or chat with an advocate via the website.
