Blake Lively is compelling in this retelling of Colleen Hoover’s chart-topping novel about domestic violence
Those of you with any sort of access to the internet will know that the reputation of It Ends with Us, the film adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s bestselling novel of the same name, precedes it. Entertainment news magazines and social media have been filled with hearsay on the reportedly sour relationship between the two lead actors, Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni, during and post filming of their more than sour relationship in the film’s exploration of domestic violence. But the film is more complex and grittier than most would think.
If I told you that Lily Bloom (Lively), a florist seen donning oversized dungarees and plaid shirts, meets Ryle Kincaid (Baldoni), an adeptly chiselled, womanising neurosurgeon, you would be wise to assume that the film is somewhat cliched. Their meet-cute on the roof of Kincaid’s apartment building is unrealistic to say the least (Lily breaks in because Ryle has a ‘nice view’ – ‘I do’, Ryle cheesily replies as he gazes at her), as is the grounds for their ensuing relationship (Lily’s new friend and business partner, Allysa (Jenny Slate), just happens to be Ryle’s sister).
After a blossoming (pardon the florist pun) relationship, Lily manages to convert Ryle to fidelity, and the two fall madly in love – that is, until Ryle gets angry and takes it out on his partner. Parallels run between Lily and her mother, who was for years abused by her husband – Lily’s father – and for whom Lily shows little remorse or understanding, until she herself experiences the complexities of loving someone incapable of demonstrating the same love back. Cue Atlas, an unassuming rugged yet tender chef Lily dated in school, and who she meets again on a date with Ryle because, you guessed it, they just happen to stumble across his restaurant.
It Ends with Us is obvious and unsubtle, but it doesn’t claim not to be. It feels somewhat aware of its overtness, and if you can go in accepting that, it really proves to be an entertaining watch, and, more importantly, one that respectfully deals with such a delicate topic.
There is a golden hue throughout that accentuates their lavish lifestyle of parties and expensive dinners, and the interjecting flashbacks add an extra dimension to Lily’s character. You’ll find yourself rooting (I’ll stop with the puns soon) for her rekindling with Atlas, and watching closely as she navigates through her sense of self after grappling with such a turbulent partner.
Whilst the depiction of domestic violence in film is not a rare sight, Hoover’s story feels different. She brings in subtle details that alter the audience’s perception of the characters and their interactions – what at first seemed an accident then becomes the first link in a knotted chain of acts of violence. Lively expertly emits the complicated emotions that are built up in her character, and is convincing in her portrayal of a young woman stuck in an abusive relationship.
As a twentysomething year old woman, I thoroughly enjoyed It Ends with Us, in spite of all its blatancies, but I think it’s also important to note that this film has a place for those outside the obvious demographic, too.
Elsa Tarring
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