Colleen Hoover’s “It Ends With Us” became a bestseller after going viral on BookTok — a book-focused subcommunity on TikTok — during the COVID-19 pandemic. It spent 140 weeks on the New York Times Best Seller list and sold 8 million copies. Thus, it was hardly surprising that fans were ecstatic when director Justin Baldoni optioned the film adaptation in July 2019. Starring Baldoni as Ryle and Blake Lively as Lily Bloom, the movie premiered on Aug. 9 and exceeded $100 million at the global box office in its first week.
Like the book, the film explores the complexities of domestic violence, offering flashbacks to the protagonist Lily’s childhood — during which her father abused her mother — and exploring her present relationship with neurosurgeon Ryle. As viewers watch Ryle and Lily’s picture-perfect romance devolve into domestic abuse, Hoover examines how generations of women can suffer abuse.
While the film details important themes, many, including myself, were left unsatisfied with key details — or, more aptly, the lack thereof. The film adaptation omits several important elements of the book, such as Lily’s love for Ellen DeGeneres and a “Better in Boston” fridge magnet, symbolizing Lily’s relationship with her first love, Atlas. Without these details, Lily’s relationship with Atlas lacks depth, and I was left longing for intimacy.
Now, including Ellen DeGeneres in the movie may seem ridiculous — particularly after DeGeneres’s public downfall in recent years. But understanding her role is crucial to understanding the love between Lily and Atlas. In the book, a young Lily writes letters to DeGeneres as an emotional outlet, helping her cope with the realities of an abusive household. As an adult, Lily peruses the old letters — many about Atlas and her strained relationship with her father — which allows readers to peek into her youthful relationship with Atlas. The couple used to watch the Ellen DeGeneres Show together as teens, and their shared motto becomes “just keep swimming,” DeGeneres’s famous line in “Finding Nemo.” In the film, there is no mention of DeGeneres. We were left with only subtle nods to her role, such as a “Finding Nemo” toy in Lily’s daughter’s nursery and a Dory poster in Atlas’s restaurant.
Moreover, the producers make several questionable creative choices in the film. Before “It Ends With Us” was even released in cinemas, the casting choices themselves were shocking. While Lily and Ryle are 23 and 28 in the novel, respectively, actors Lively and Baldoni are 37 and 40. Baldoni explained that he “wanted women of all ages to be able to see themselves” in the story. Hoover also said she had “made a mistake” in the book version, as “there’s no 28 year old neurosurgeons,” making Ryle’s age in the book incompatible with his career. Nevertheless, the change left me feeling dissatisfied by a poor representation of the characters.
Nonetheless, the movie does many things right. Adaptations to the screen will never fulfill all of our expectations. Thus, we must consider the benefits a film adaptation can offer — and decide whether we can embrace a cinematic form of our favorite book, despite the sense of loss that may come with it. Despite the details that were changed or missing, I believe “It Ends With Us” does a compelling job of capturing the complexities of domestic violence — particularly when obscured by a powerful romantic relationship that blurs this abuse for Lily.
Both the book and film version of “It Ends With Us” portray the realities of domestic abuse that women face. However, the film adaptation demonstrates a unique power to shift perceptions of domestic violence. The film initially depicts the abuse from Lily’s perspective — blurring the line between love and abuse. A romanticized Ryle is presented, one who cares for Lily and hurts her only by accident — or so Lily believes. The audience falls in love with Ryle concurrently with Lily, magnifying the pain when his true colors are relieved. It isn’t until after the climax of the abuse — when Ryle attempts to assault Lily — that those same incidents are shown again, cast in a new light. The film’s visuals allow the audience to discern for themselves these incidents of abuse, rather than simply relying on Lily’s perception. This is an advantage of film that cannot be achieved through literature. When reading, we all imagine characters and events differently, and it can be hard to understand other perspectives without any visual guidance. Additionally, in the book, Lily seems wary of the danger she is in after each incident of abuse, warning Ryle each time that she will leave him if he hurts her again. This awareness is less clear in the film. Rather, we see Lily dismiss the first two abusive actions as accidents — and we, as viewers, may dismiss them as well. Through the film, the audience can understand the manipulation and deceit that often accompany domestic violence in a way the book does not allow.
Hoover highlights the significance of book to film adaptations, claiming that the film “adds another layer to the connection readers already have with the characters.” The trend of adaptations will continue to increase with two of Hoover’s other books already having been picked up for a film: “Verity” and “Regretting You.” Can we look past the loss of key characters and details from the book to appreciate the cinematic excitement of an adaptation? Or will fans continue to be frustrated at creative and casting choices, longing for the film they imagined but never received? Despite the longing I had for certain omitted details, I left the movie feeling moved by its striking depiction of domestic violence and female empowerment.
Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
