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Movie review: It Ends With Us – Baltimore Magazine

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Movie review: It Ends With Us – Baltimore Magazine

Warning: The following review contains some spoilers and discusses domestic violence.

With her cascading blonde hair, long legs, and toothpaste-commercial smile, Blake Lively is the epitome of the sun-kissed California beauty. It was actually a little far-fetched that she played some sort of Upper East Side princess in Gossip Girl—she’s surf boards and Laguna Beach all the way. But we bought it, mostly because her primary purpose on that show was to be the foil to the jealous Blair, who wanted the effortless charm that Lively’s Serena possessed.

In It Ends With Us, based on Colleen Hoover’s wildly popular novel (as seen on TikTok!), Lively does not have blond hair, but a mess of cooperative red curls, the sort that exist far more often in romance novels than real life. She wears flowy, artfully mismatched clothing—I spied some Magnolia Pearl, notorious for their expensive schmattas; she also seems to favor these architecturally complicated chainmail boots. She opens a flower shop in Boston, straight out of a “Bohemian Flower Shop” Pinterest board. It’s all a little ridiculous. It seems like cosplay.

Lively’s incongruous casting is a perfect metaphor for the film, which also seems to be suffering from an identity crisis.

At first, It Ends With Us seems like a love story. Lively’s Lily Blossom Bloom—yes, the film makes fun of the name, which feels like cheating since they’re the ones who gave her the name—meets hunky neurosurgeon Ryle Kincaid (Justin Baldoni, who also directs) on a rooftop. (For the record, they also make fun of his soap-opera-ready name. Again, YOU NAMED HIM THAT.) She’s up there contemplating her father who just died, but whom she didn’t really love. (More on that in a bit.) Ryle comes on the roof to vent about something—he assaults a chair. Knowing that the film was ultimately going to be about domestic violence, I thought this was a good touch. They’re showing that he has a bad temper. And yet, for a while, Ryle is nothing but a dreamboat. Although he’s a notorious playboy, he vows to change his ways for Lily. He’s doting, sincere, patient. There’s a minor road block once it’s discovered that Ryle is the brother of Lily’s best friend, Allysa (Jenny Slate, here to save us). But their love cannot be stopped! With Allysa’s blessing, Ryle and Lily get married.

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Okay, but let’s back-up a bit. In flashbacks, we also see glimpses of Lily’s first love, a homeless boy named Atlas (stop laughing). In those flashbacks, Lily is played by Isabela Ferrer and Atlas is played by Alex Neustaedter, who both only glancingly resemble their older counterparts. The flashbacks here are doing a lot of heavy lifting: They’re showing us Lily’s first love and showing us that Lily’s father beat Lily’s mother and eventually Atlas, when he discovers the boy in bed with his daughter—but they feel perfunctory. Baldoni seems much more interested in the scenes depicting Lily’s adult life (maybe because he’s in them?).

And then Ryle hits Lily. It kind of comes out of nowhere. This film would’ve been notably better if they’d established Ryle’s violent tendencies—getting jealous at a bar, maybe, or being enraged when his much-loved Bruins lose a game. Yes, we saw him assault that chair on the roof, but that was it. Beyond that, he was Prince Charming. Ryle gaslights Lily (and to a certain extent us) into thinking it was an accident. (The film intentional holds back on showing us the extent of his violence until later on.) Lily covers her bruise with some makeup and they go out for dinner with Allysa and her affable husband (Hasan Minhaj). The waiter looks kinda familiar? You guessed it, it’s Atlas, all grown up now and sporting a non-threatening beard (he’s played as an adult by Brandon Sklenar). He’s not just their waiter, he’s the restaurant’s owner and chef. (He is the Swiss Army Knife of convenient plot contrivances.)

Atlas sees the hastily covered bruise on Lily’s face and immediately groks what’s going on, even if she refuses to see it. He and Ryle fight and this is the beginning of the end, as Ryle becomes consumed by jealousy.

I experienced a fair amount of cognitive dissonance watching It Ends With Us—it plays like a sun-dappled romance that suddenly turns violent. (Apparently some people, expecting it to be an uncomplicated love story, felt deceived by the sudden change in tone.)

I appreciate the fact that this is ultimately a film—and book—about ending the cycle of violence. We’ve evolved past the “fall in love with your rapist” trope, thank goodness. But it feels like they want to have their cake and eat it, too, here—a hot romance with beautiful people and a “you go, girl” film about a woman rejecting her violent lover. And then there’s Atlas—chef, waiter, restaurant owner, former homeless kid turned bearded king—waiting in the wings. Is the answer to leaving your abusive husband having a better alternative on deck?

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Movie Reviews

Rex Reed’s 2024 Movie Review Roundup: A Masterclass in Blistering Honesty

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Rex Reed’s 2024 Movie Review Roundup: A Masterclass in Blistering Honesty

Rex Reed’s scalpel was particularly sharp in 2024, slicing through 43 films with the kind of ruthless precision only he can wield. This was the year he likened Mean Girls to “cinematic Covid,” torched Longlegs as a “dumpster fire,” and suggested that Cash Out had John Travolta so lost, “somebody stage an intervention.” For those seeking unfiltered truths about Hollywood’s latest offerings, Reed delivered—though not without a handful of pleasant surprises.

His ratings reveal a critic tough to impress: 28 percent of films earned 1 star, while 5 percent received the graveyard of zero stars. Horror films bore the brunt of his wrath—Longlegs and Heretic were sacrificed at the altar of his biting prose. Yet, amid the wreckage, 5 percent clawed their way to 4 stars, with dramas like One Life and Cabrini standing out for their emotional gravitas. Biopics, historical narratives and character studies fared best under his gaze, suggesting Reed still has a soft spot for films anchored in strong performances and rich storytelling.

One of the more controversial reviews? Reed’s glowing praise for Coup de Chance, which he called “Woody Allen’s best film in years.” In an industry where few dare applaud Allen publicly, Reed’s unapologetic endorsement (“unfairly derailed by obvious, headline-demanding personal problems”) was as bold as ever. Interestingly, the most-read review wasn’t the most positive—The Last Showgirl dazzled readers, perhaps more for the spectacle of Pamela Anderson’s Vegas reinvention than the film’s plot. It seems Reed’s audience enjoys his kinder takes, but they revel in his cinematic eviscerations just as much. When Reed loves a film, he ensures you know it—just as he ensures the worst offenders are left gasping for air.

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Movie Review: A Locksmith lives to Regret Taking that One “Night Call”

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Movie Review: A Locksmith lives to Regret Taking that One “Night Call”

I’m of two minds about that subgenre we call the hero/heroine with “particular skills” thriller.

The parade of Liam Neeson/Jason Statham/John Cena et al action pictures where this mobster, that rogue government or rogue government agency or creepy neighbor crosses this or that mild-mannered man or woman who turns out to be ex-CIA, a retired Marine, a former assassin or Navy SEAL has worn out its welcome.

Somebody effs around, somebody finds out they’ve “Taken” the wrong relative, crossed the wrong professional mayhem-maker. Yawn.

It’s always more interesting when somebody a lot more ordinary is tested by an extraordinary situation, and by people ostensibly a lot more capable of what Mr. or Ms. In Over Their Heads is attempting. “Three Days of the Condor” is the template for this sort of film. A more recent example is the snowplow operator tracking down and avenging himself on his son’s mob killers — “In Order of Disappearance.”

Throwing somebody with one “particular skill” that doesn’t include violence, criminal or espionage subterfuge or the like? As an exercise in screenwriting problem-solving that’s almost always a fun film to watch. That’s why I have high hopes for Rami Malek’s upcoming spring fling, “The Amateur.”

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Let’s hope that’s as good as the lurid, violent and tight-as-a-drum Belgian thriller, “Night Call.” A young man (Jonathan Feltre) is tricked, trapped and life-or-death tested by one long night at work.

Mady is a student, we gather, and a native-born Belgian with a thing for Petula Clark ’60s pop — in French. His night gig is as a locksmith. On this one night, that job will get him into trouble despite his best efforts to avoid it. And his “particular skills” and the tools of his trade will come in handy just enough to make you mutter, “clever, clever boy” at the screen and what writer-diector Michiel Blanchart has cooked-up for his feature filmmaking debut.

Mady’s the guy you summon when you’ve locked yourself out of your car, business or flat in the wee hours. He’s professional, courteous and honest. No, the quoted price — 250 Euros — is all you owe.

He’s also careful. The young woman named Claire (Natacha Krief) summons him to a Brussels flat she’s locked out of. She doesn’t have the 250. It’s in her purse, in her flat. With her keys. No, that’s where her ID is, too. As she’s flirted, just a bit, and the streets all around them are consumed by Black Lives Matter protests because Black people die at the hands of white cops in Belgium, too, he takes her word for it.

Mady might be the last to figure out that her last lie, about “taking out the trash” (in French with English subtitles) and hitting the ATM downstairs, is her get-away. When she rings him up and warns him to “Get OUT of there” (in French with subtitles) he’s still slow on the uptake.

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That’s when the apartment’s real resident, a musclehead with a punching bag and lots of Nazi paraphrenalia on the walls, shows up and tries to beat Mady to death. He fails.

But can a young Black man call the possibly racist cops about what’s happened and have them believe him? Maybe not. It’s when he’s trying to “clean” the scene of the “crime” that he’s nabbed, and his night of hell escalates into torture, threats and attempts to escape from the mobster (Romain Duris at his most sadistic) in pursuit of stolen loot and the “real” thief, the elusive but somehow conscience-stricken “Claire.”

As Hitchcock always said, “Good villains make good thrillers.” Duris, recently seen in the French “The Three Musketeers” and “The Animal Kingdom,” famous for “The Spanish Apartment” and “Chinese Puzzle,”, is the classic thriller “reasonable man” heavy.

“Either you become a friend, or a problem,” his Yannick purrs, in between pulling the garbage bag off the suffocating kids’ head, only to wrap Mady’s face in duct tape, a more creative bit of asphyxiation.

The spice that Blanchart seasons his thriller with is the backdrop — street protests, with Black protesters furious that Mady isn’t joining them and riot police pummeling and arresting every Black face in sight. That’s jarringly contrasted by the oasis-of-calm subway and unconcerned discos where Mady chases clues and Claire.

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A getaway on a stolen bicycle, dashing through streets and down into a subway station, suspense via frantic escapes, frantic bits of outwitting or outfighting crooks and cops, a decent confrontation with the not-cute-enough-to-excuse-all-this Claire and a satisfying “ticking clock” finale?

That’s what makes a good thriller. And if those “particular skills” show up here and there, at least we know Mady’s learned something on a job that if he lives to finish school, won’t be his career.

Rating: unrated, graphic violence, sex scenes in a brothel

Cast: Jonathan Feltre, Natacha Krief, Jonas Bloquet, Thomas Mustin and Romain Duris.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Michiel Blanchart. A Magnet release.

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Running time: 1:37

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'Cunk on Life' movie review: Laugh-out-loud mockumentary on life’s big questions

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'Cunk on Life' movie review: Laugh-out-loud mockumentary on life’s big questions

‘Cunk on Earth’ (2023), a mockumentary series on BBC, was hailed for its laugh-aloud mockery of pretentious documentaries and Morgan’s razor-sharp comedic timing — British droll at its very best.

Rashmi Vasudeva

Last Updated : 04 January 2025, 03:01 IST

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