Colleen Hoover’s Best Seller Blooms Into a Worthy Big Screen Weepy
DIRECTOR: JUSTIN BALDONI/2024
It Ends With Us may not be high cinema, but it does know what it wants to be.
Based on Colleen Hoover’s 2016 novel, It Ends With Us aspires to be an easy watch and to make a statement about domestic abuse. That’s a counterintuitive combo, and one with potential to self-combust. Somehow it’s one that made Hoover’s book a best seller, and it’s a tightrope act the the film adaptation pulls off.
Blake Lively plays Lily Bloom (yes, you read that right), a Boston-dweller who aspires to be a florist (again, you read that correctly). Though she’s always on her guard, she can’t forget a chance rooftop encounter with Ryle (Justin Baldoni), a handsome neurosurgeon and the brother of her best friend (Jenny Slate, the surprise MVP as the comic relief and the first to make my cry). But as Lily and Ryle develop a relationship perfect on paper, she can’t forget the childhood heartbreaks that have made it difficult to trust people who say they love her. Could Ryle be the future she’s hoping for? Or is he a repetition of the past that haunts her?
If melodrama is a word that makes you cringe, well, It Ends With Us isn’t for you. But a little melodrama never killed nobody if done well—just ask Douglas Sirk. Though today he’s remembered as one of the best directors of Hollywood’s Golden Age, he wasn’t as well-regarded during his heyday in part because of the love-it-or-hate-it genre. Case in point: His 1954 film Magnificent Obsession follows Rock Hudson falling in love with Jane Wyman after he both widows and blinds her with his poor driving on two separate occasions, making it one of the most ridiculous plots I’ve ever summarized. Even so, I love it. Sirk’s films always look phenomenal—and not just because he kept casting Hudson—and the emotions are so authentic Wyman earned an Oscar nomination.
When we finally get to the film’s heavy-handed condemnation of domestic violence, it doesn’t feel trite because it affirms PG-13 violence is unacceptable in a marriage even if the affection is real and the abuser is dealing with his own trauma.
To be clear, writer/star Baldoni isn’t operating at Sirk’s (or Hudson’s) level, nor is this on par with the artistry of Magnificent Obsession, but It Ends With Us holds fast to two of the major principles of Sirk’s major works, the first of which is that everything should be beautiful. The camera shows everything through a cozy, Instagram-worthy filter, and frame upon frame is filled with floral arrangements, even outside Lily’s flower shop. The soundtrack is stacked with moody ballads released too late to premiere on The O.C. and the Taylor Swift Folklore track that took inspiration from Marriage Story. Yes, it’s much easier to get “My Tears Ricochet” in your film if you’re her BFF, which is the perfect segue for discussing another key aesthetic choice: the wardrobe. Every character is dressed in a down-to-earth yet aspirationally chic way, but Lively—who is known for selecting her own wardrobe instead of hiring a stylist— has the most covetable prêt-à-porter looks of all. Given that costume designer Eric Daman worked on Gossip Girl as well, I can’t imagine she didn’t have a say in these mismatched-yet-complementary prints. It’s also no coincidence her signature blonde tresses are stealing scenes the same week she debuts a new Target haircare line. (Anne Carroll is credited as her hairstylist on this film, making it her eighth collaboration with Lively and her husband Ryan Reynolds.)
This is another perfect segue to a discussion of authorship. As a general rule, it’s a better use of a review to analyze a film’s content than its press tour, but it’s difficult to ignore the rumors permeating the red carpet outside the premiere. Is there a rift between the cast? Or is it just wild TikTok speculation hoping to create another Spitgate? (As a reminder, Chris Pine’s alleged expectorating all over Harry Styles was probably just wild TikTok speculation that probably boosted the box office for Don’t Worry Darling.) If Lively and Reynolds (whom she considers an unofficial writer on this film) did wield their power to mold It Ends With Us into a similar aesthetic as The Age of Adaline, it’s odd the Internet has turned this into a villain narrative for the couple. Stars have always used their influence to shape their projects, and we’ll likely never know if Baldoni feels Mr. Lively and Mrs. Reynolds overstepped on his decision-making. (Decades later, you can still find arguments about whether Howard Deutch or John Hughes was the true director of Pretty in Pink.)
The press tour moments more relevant to the film’s content are the conversations about domestic violence. In spite of criticism that the marketing has been too fluffy, the root cause is not the film itself. Hoover took inspiration from her own parents’ relationship, and this story doesn’t depend (solely) on clichés. In a bit of kismet, I recently watched Waitress, the 2007 romantic comedy starring Keri Russell that overlaps in a number of themes and plot points, the finer details of which I’ll gloss over to prevent spoilers. Waitress does have its charms (namely, Russell) and is working in a different tone, but it writes Russell’s husband as such a one-dimensional jerk you question the narrative’s logic about why she can’t leave him. It Ends With Us is more successful in developing empathy for victims because it remembers a second big principle from Sirk’s canon: Emotionalism matters more than realism. Because Ryle is a fully developed character with vulnerabilities and one we fall in love with alongside Lily, his aggressive turn is just as shocking for us. Our first reaction isn’t to run but to hope it was a one-time mistake, a hiccup in an otherwise all-consuming romance. When we finally get to the film’s heavy-handed condemnation of domestic abuse, it doesn’t feel trite because it affirms PG-13 violence is unacceptable in a marriage even if the affection is real and the abuser is dealing with his own trauma.
So is this a love affair for the cinematic history books? No, but it is a step up from Baldoni’s last big screen venture, Five Feet Apart. That sick teen romance suffered from a script so cutesy it was cloying, but it did show its director had an sharp eye and a big heart. (And if you’re skeptical of of his authorship in 2024, I dare you to argue against it after listening to that 2019 film’s soundtrack, which also features a song from Birdy’s self-titled album.) With more grown-up material, he’s made It Ends With Us into a pretty good weepy still with a lot of style.