This post was written by Tory Crowley.
It Ends With Us doesn’t market itself as a sad, serious drama addressing the complexities of intimate partner violence. I mean, who would watch that? Certainly not the 15-to-40-year-old women it’s marketed to.
Instead, It Ends with Us, an adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s best-selling book, is a trojan horse. We eagerly welcome the style, the sex, and the glamour it offers. It’s only when we’re settled in, with our admission paid, halfway through a box of Milk Duds with fingers covered in popcorn butter, that we discover the heavier themes hidden in the story: generational abuse cycles and domestic violence.
Movies and television are at their best when they can pull this off. One of my favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, a movie literally dripping in superficiality that sneaks in commentary about the impossible demands society places on women. Likewise, The Office is a zany workplace comedy that addresses the monotony and meaninglessness of everyday life. It Ends With Us strikes a similar note, conveying a strong message about the pervasiveness of domestic violence where we least expect it: in a sexy, cool Hollywood romance.
We take in this story differently than we would a documentary or a serious emotional drama. Our guards are down. There’s value in being able to address a serious topic through a medium that we feel comfortable in.
Much has been made about the controversial choice of telling a heavy story in such a delightfully superficial shell. Reportedly, stars Blake Lively (who also produced) and Justin Baldoni (who directed) had clashing visions. It’s rumored that Blake and Justin each made a final cut of the film, and Blake’s lighter version won, despite not scoring as well with audiences as Justin’s weightier version.
If you’ve been following the press tour for the movie, you can see these different visions manifest, where Blake focuses on the overall aesthetic and her character Lily’s personality and style, whereas Justin keeps the conversion focused on DV and the challenges women often face there.
First and foremost, It Ends with Us is a love story, a romance. And unfortunately, intimate partner violence is frequently experienced in romantic relationships. One in four women are victims of domestic violence. As common as it is in real life, it’s quite rare to see it depicted on the big screen.
And here’s a naked truth: for victims and survivors, the world doesn’t stop every time there’s an issue of DV in someone’s home. Life goes on. You get up and go to work the next day. You make your kids’ lunches. You remind yourself of your partner’s good qualities and you carry on.
This happens to a lot of people. And that’s why it’s so believable when it happens to Lily.
I struggle with movies or books about addiction or abuse because they tend to bite off more than they can chew. Similarly, what can you definitively say in two hours about a huge and complex topic like domestic violence? Not much. But you can tell one person’s story, and that’s powerful.
And ultimately, It Ends With Us works not because it answers every DV question, but because it doesn’t. It tells an honest story. Hoover (who also served as a producer on the film) was largely inspired by her own parents and their fraught relationship.
Therefore, criticisms that this movie doesn’t give due weight to the gravity of DV in romantic relationships should consider that Lily and Ryle’s story is rooted in Colleen Hoover’s real life. The novel ends with a powerful author’s note sharing that the story is more than just a frilly fictional romance. It’s deeply personal to the author.
It Ends With Us is Hoover’s best-selling book, not because the idea of loving someone who hurts you is rare and foreign, but because it’s unfortunately common and relatable.
Hoover puts forth a lot of lightness in It Ends With Us, not because she’s trying to ignore the gravity of DV, but because she intimately understands the weight of it. She doesn’t want Lily to be defined by the worst things that have happened to her.
Yes, Lily had an abusive father and husband but there’s more to her than that. She is kind and funny, loves flowers, and has a weird, bold style. These things are a part of her, and it’s important to both Hoover and Lively that these attributes are not erased by her role as a victim of abuse.
Lily is a person—a young woman, a lot like the women watching this movie. In many ways, she’s living the dream: an entrepreneur in a big city with a very funny best friend and two hot guys who are crazy in love with her. We love Lily, and we learn from her experience differently than we would from a documentary, a serious drama, or whatever the critics think would be a better medium to learn about DV.
Did you enjoy this post? Please consider supporting Third Coast Review’s arts and culture coverage by making a donation. Choose the amount that works best for you, and know how much we appreciate your support!