It Ends with Us, 2024.

Directed by Justin Baldoni.
Starring Blake Lively, Justin Baldoni, Brandon Sklenar, Jenny Slate, Hasan Minhaj, Amy Morton, Isabela Ferrer, Alex Neustaedter, Kevin McKidd, Robin S. Walker, Emily Baldoni, Robyn Lively, Megan Elyse Robinson, Caroline Siegrist, Adam Mondschein, and Robert Clohessy.

SYNOPSIS:

Adapted from the Colleen Hoover novel, Lily overcomes a traumatic childhood to embark on a new life. A chance meeting with a neurosurgeon sparks a connection but Lily begins to see sides of him that remind her of her parents’ relationship.

Writer/director/co-lead Justin Baldoni’s directorial debut, It Ends with Us (based on the book by Colleen Hoover and adapted for the screen by Daddio writer/director Christy Hall), is a story about domestic abuse with an important message at the core, that becomes far too preoccupied with ridiculous soap opera love triangle nonsense. Also coming into question is how much of this relies on conveying that message through misleading visuals. Early on, our protagonist jokes that she is an unreliable narrator, which later on feels more like the film itself admitting it’s toying with perception disingenuously, albeit in a predictable way since there isn’t much doubt in where the story is headed.

Lily Blossom Bloom (Blake Lively with a wild hairstyle suggesting the film takes place in the 1980s rather than the present day) lives in Boston and has just opened up a, wait for it… flower shop. This comes following the sudden death of her father (played by Kevin McKidd in flashbacks), who routinely physically abused her mother (Amy Morton), making for an awkward funeral, to say the least. Lily walked out at the podium, unable to come up with anything positive to say about the man, still unsure of how her mom ever could have stayed with him. In that frustration, she also enters a nearby apartment to unwind, hanging out on the roof, where she has a meet-cute with the most handsome, buff neurosurgeon you have ever seen. His name is Ryle Kincaid (Justin Baldoni), and he is kicking a chair, upset that he was unable to save a life.

Perhaps he seems like a sweet guy. Well, within a few minutes, he is opening up “naked truths,” talking about being unfit for serious relationships and how he would casually like to have sex with Lily right there on this roof. To me (and maybe you), that’s pretty weird; it’s also far from the only case of Ryle getting a bit sexually sleazy, something that the film kind of lets him off the hook for. Lily also opens up about her first love and the first person she ever had sex with, a sensitive and kind homeless boy she gravitated to, with that relationship serving as the focal point of the flashbacks (a relationship we get a glimpse of in flashbacks, with the two played by Isabela Ferrer and Alex Neustaedter.) Since this is a movie, he immediately determines something is different about Lily and that he would like to give real love a shot.

Nevertheless, everything about this blossoming love between Lily and Ryle appears to be going well on the surface, even if it’s apparent to viewers his mask will come off (there wouldn’t be a movie, otherwise.) Again, that conflict (which takes roughly an hour to arrive finally) comes in the form of domestic abuse and, more specifically, how people perceive, rationalize, and chalk an incident up as an accident. That’s also something vital that should be explored, but the filmmakers seem more concerned with manifesting that drama in the most melodramatic, over-the-top manner possible while also inserting another guy into the equation (Brandon Sklenar), one who is fiercely protective over Lily.

Of course, there is also a lot of fortuity here, such as Ryle reconnecting with Lily after the initial meet-cute, all because his sister Allyssa (Jenny Slate) randomly stumbled into the flower shop looking for a job. She also has no idea that her brother is capable of some deplorable behavior, making for the scarily intriguing concept that not even some siblings know each other entirely. The problem is that the execution treats this entire story like a Lifetime film, charging headfirst into drama that never quite feels real. If anything, it’s often unintentionally hilarious, such as a restaurant fight between the two grown men battling over Lily. The specific reason that the fight occurs comes across as laughably dumb, something that could have been solved by two people talking to each other like adults. The thing is, people rarely feel real here.

There is also the feeling that anytime the film dares to become serious and dive into uncomfortable thematic material, it also pulls back as if it wants to be a sappy romantic love triangle above all else. And while I’m aware domestic abusers are capable of hiding that aspect of themselves well, here, there are constant jumps in times that leave one questioning the credulity of how long this man inexperienced with dating (presumably for good reason) would last without slipping up on his toxic side. The endless barrage of pop songs only serves to sanitize the material here. Even accounting for the flashbacks, there isn’t a single moment of actual conflict here until the one-hour mark, presumably because the romance is what sells to this demographic.

One possible read is that the filmmakers are aware of this, creating the usual cringe Hollywood love story playing into Lily’s oblivious nature that all is well in this relationship and that this is love. I would love to sit here and say that everything here is a stroke of subversive brilliance. However, even if that were the case, the execution isn’t there, often eliciting groans and laughs since the situations feel far-fetched. Coincidently, It Ends with Us does conclude with an emotional, believable exchange that needs to be heard by domestic abusers around the world. It’s a shame the rest of the film is outlandish and doesn’t cut nearly as deep.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★

Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com

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