My Issues with It Ends With Us
Don't do it, girl. The warning flags were there all along.
Two weeks ago I went to an early screening of It Ends with Us, the movie starring Blake Lively based on Colleen Hoover’s best-seller of the same name. I was sitting in my seat before the movie started, reading from my Kindle Scribe, when two women sat in the seats next to me. “Are you reading the book again?” one asked.
“Uh, no, I’m trying to finish the book for the first time before the movie starts,” I laughed, not revealing that I was only about 30% of the way through. I had purchased the ebook version of It Ends with Us, hoping I had enough time to finish it before the movie came out, but failed miserably.
There’s something about the book that was giving me pause as I read it, and this feeling was only confirmed as I watched the movie. What’s compounded this concern is the crazy brouhaha that has followed the movie since its premiere—first characterized as a beef between Lively, her costars, and even Hoover with the film’s star and director, Justin Baldoni. Since those first TikTok-ers noticed how Baldoni often promoted the film solo while Lively et al hosted their own screenings, and how everyone seemed to have unfollowed Baldoni on IG while he followed them, the tables have sort of turned.
Now what’s been surfacing are old interviews Lively did for other films she was promoting during which she exhibited some very “mean girl” energy. Accompanying these videos has been an onslaught of commentary objecting to the way in which Lively has been marketing It Ends with Us, which, at its heart, is a movie based on a book about domestic abuse. Instead of talking about such a charged topic, or advocating for people who’ve actually experienced domestic violence (something Baldoni has done time and again at events and interviews for the film), Lively instead has been parading all over red carpets in floral-patterned outfits, marveling at floral boutique pop-ups modeled after her character’s storefront, and encouraging GNO watch parties like It Ends with Us is this summer’s Barbie movie—which it decidedly is not.
The very cynical, ex-entertainment journalist in me wonders if Lively and her team are so tone deaf that they thought It Ends with Us would be the perfect movie vehicle for propelling her to Margot Robbie-level stardom. Like, it’s not enough that she and her husband Ryan Reynolds are worth an estimated $380 million, what with his gin company and her haircare line and the fact that, oh yeah, they each make millions of dollars for each movie they star in.
Lively didn’t need It Ends with Us to be a “vehicle” type of film for her and her career. She could’ve played things low and intentional. She and her costars—not just Baldoni—could’ve centered the conversations about the movie, and the book it’s based on, around the issue of domestic violence. They could’ve shared resources for people in abusive relationships.
No one needs a cocktail called the “Ryle You Wait” featuring mixers from Lively’s booze company (she has one, too, you know). I mean, come on.
I have to admit, however, that for a moment I was caught up in some of the now-obviously ridiculous marketing for the film. Thankfully it was just an IG Stories post that I re-shared, of the video Lively posted of Ryan Reynolds confronting his wife’s costar, Brandon Sklenar, even recruiting his Deadpool & Wolverine costar Hugh Jackman and his own mother to give Skelnar grief for getting too cozy with Lively during the film’s promo tour. I cringe thinking about how I once thought it was funny. Now that I’m halfway through the book and I’ve seen the movie, I realize how inappropriate the promo is. The fact that Reynolds and Lively thought it would be funny to market each other’s films—his an ultraviolent Marvel caper, hers a look at the legacy of trauma that comes with domestic abuse—is so cringe I can’t even…
Creepy Edward Cullen looking stalkerish at Bella in Twilight.
One thing I still can’t shake about the book version of It Ends with Us is how Ryle Kincaid is glamorized in his first scenes in the book in the same way I felt creepy ol’ Edward Cullen was romanticized in the Twilight series and how I imagine Christian Grey was written up in the 50 Shades books (which I could never bring myself to read). It’s that whole dark and mysterious and dangerous vibe they give off that seems to be a turn-on to their female protagonists. Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe there’s a place for those kinds of characters, certainly in the romance genre, but It Ends with Us and Twilight were supposed to be more mainstream fare. Heck, Twilight is a Young Adult series!
Why are mainstream authors creating their romantic leads to tow such a blurry line between being physically attractive but morally suspect? Why is it OK to tell a complete stranger, “I’d like to fuck you,” as Ryle does when he first meets Lily in It Ends with Us (which thankfully was reworded to something more PG in the movie)? Is it because he’s hot, so it’s OK? He trashed patio furniture when Lily first spies him on that rooftop. And then he flirts with her, and she’s not thinking she should get off that roof and back to her safe apartment?
I dunno. Maybe I’m just too old to get this. But in my, ahem, younger, single days, if a guy—even a super duper good-looking guy—did and said those things to me when I first met him, I’d get out of there. Nah, girl. That kind of energy is not attractive. But why is it such a turn-on for the readers who propel these books, with these main characters, to the top of the best-seller lists?
And another creepola!
No need to answer these questions for me. I’ll just keep ruminating on them as I work on my own books, and my own redeemable characters, and watch the It Ends with Us fallout continue to play out, taking notes of what not to do.