What ‘It Ends With Us’ gets wrong about abuse in relationships

This column contains spoilers about the movie “It Ends with Us.” If you are a victim of domestic violence, The National Domestic Violence Hotline allows you to speak confidentially with trained advocates online or by the phone, which they recommend for those who think their online activity is being monitored by their abuser (800-799-7233). They can help survivors develop a plan to achieve safety for themselves and their children.
For a movie with a plot centered on ending the cycle of domestic violence, I found myself smiling a lot while watching “It Ends with Us.”
Laughing and blushing even, at least at the beginning.
While it might sound counterintuitive, the initial lighthearted and romantic approach actually is a good thing because it provides a unique view of a foundational element behind toxic and abusive relationships.
I went into the movie, based on the book by Colleen Hoover, skeptical. From what I had seen of the promotional materials, it appeared to be just a chick flick, featuring two handsome men in love with the same stunning woman (the talented Blake Lively as Lily Bloom).
Knowing the film was really about domestic violence, I wondered why the trailer and advertisements weren’t capitalizing on this moment to inform the audience about the pitfalls of abuse.
Promotional messaging aside, “It Ends with Us” gets several things right about domestic violence and abuse that could inform viewers who don’t know much or have misconceptions about toxic relationships.
One thing the film does really well is to explain why people get into abusive relationships.
When Lily meets Ryle Kincaid, played by Justin Baldoni, who also directed the film, he just seems like a handsome, charismatic, fit neurosurgeon. He even has commitment issues − how romantic!
Ryle immediately pursues Lily, despite her attempt to maintain a boundary of friendship (he portrayed himself as a player). He erodes her boundaries − a hallmark of abusers − and chases her persistently until she’s so smitten she can’t resist him.
Together, they have everything: Hot sex, fun nights out, cozy snuggles in his penthouse. What’s not to love? They quickly move in together and, soon after, marry.
I love being a mom.But JD Vance is horribly wrong about ‘childless cat ladies.’
Often, friends and family may not realize a relationship is abusive until it’s obvious − broken bones, verbal abuse or frozen bank accounts.
But what a lot of people miss is that abusive relationships don’t start out abusive, and that physical violence is not the only form of abuse. It’s not because abusers aren’t a danger from the start, but because they intentionally mask their abuse with charm, romance and great sex.
Psychologists call it “love bombing,” but it looks like intimacy, fancy restaurants, gifts, whispers of “you’re my soulmate” and more.
Ryle’s abuse begins in what seems like small ways − throwing a chair, an accident while cooking, a fall down the stairs − but Lily doesn’t simply miss the red flags. She, like a lot of abused women, sees them but makes excuses for them. She’s also gaslighted into believing the incidents were merely accidents, the result of a quick temper or a moment of passion. Those are common responses to abuse.
And instead of realizing that Ryle is an abuser who creates good times as a facade to distract from his abuse, Lily thinks he’s a good man who abuses her in rare moments when he’s out of control.
As their love story unfolds, we see flashbacks of Lily in high school as she falls in love with her neighbor, Atlas Corrigan, played by Brandon Sklenar. We can see that relationship is genuine and different from her relationship with Ryle.
Lily, as an adult, bumps into Atlas because they’re now both business owners in the same town. But she doesn’t abandon Ryle for the good guy. She’s in the throes of a trauma bond with Ryle, a common dynamic in abusive relationships that keep people hooked.
Abuse does not happen all the time. Abuse is cyclical. It’s one reason why survivors stay. They hope the “good treatment” will begin again.
Eventually, Ryle’s abuse, driven by jealousy and control, escalates to sexual assault. That’s when Lily seeks comfort with Atlas.
If you’re a survivor of domestic violence, you may find these scenes triggering or disturbing.
“Abuse grows from attitudes and values, not feelings. The roots are ownership, the trunk is entitlement, and the branches are control, ” Lundy Bancroft writes in “Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men.” The film shows this dynamic.
Unfortunately, the film version of “It Ends with Us” gets a few things wrong about abuse, either due to ignorance or time constraints.
The movie doesn’t explain well a question most victims of domestic violence get asked: Why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave?
Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs goes by many names.After Cassie video, add ‘abuser’ to the list.
In time, Lily does, in fact, leave Ryle, citing his abuse. After giving birth to their daughter, she boldly tells Ryle that his abuse “ends with us.”
It’s a particularly poignant scene because we also learn in the film that Lily grew up with an abusive father. She wants to break that generational trauma. Ryle takes that declaration pretty well and calmly walks away.
The film concludes with Lily, happily divorced, and her hunky, protective high school sweetheart potentially back in the mix.
But real-life victims know, and research shows, that the reason survivors struggle to leave is because it is usually not as easy as Lily makes it look in the movie. The average survivor tries seven times to leave before she succeeds.
Unlike Ryle, most abusers rarely, if ever, admit they’re wrong or change significantly for long periods of time.
Statistics show that the most dangerous time for a survivor of domestic violence is the first 18 months after leaving. Even a restraining order is nothing but a piece of paper, a flimsy obstacle for a predatory abuser who is losing his object of control.
It is a myth that abusive men (men perpetrate far more domestic violence than women) just get angry or lose their temper in a moment of “passion.”
As Bancroft says, in his book about counseling abusive men, “When a man starts my program, he often says, ‘I am here because I lose control of myself sometimes. I need to get a better grip.’ I always correct him: ‘Your problem is not that you lose control of yourself, it’s that you take control of your partner. In order to change, you don’t need to gain control over yourself, you need to let go of control of her.'”
Survivors, especially those with children, often experience post-separation abuse, which can include stalking, increased physical aggression, emptying bank accounts or withholding money, threatening to get full custody of the kids, evading divorce services, refusing to work and sloughing off child support.
It would have been hard to capture all of this in one movie, but that is the reality for many victims.
It has been disappointing to see most of the actors’ promotional efforts for the film shy away from talking about domestic violence, survivors or even nodding to the many resources available to help men and women seek safety. Even a national domestic violence hotline as the film credits roll would have been powerful.
At the premiere, a reporter asked Lively what message she had for survivors who see the film. “Not to minimize it in any way, but you are so much more than just a survivor or just a victim,” she said. “While that is a huge thing, you are a person of multitudes. What someone has done to you doesn’t define you. You define you.”
It’s a nice truism, to be sure, but underwhelming for survivors.
Photos and videos from the movie’s premieres show Lively in gorgeous floral attire, accompanied by most of the cast. Lively even promotes her own hair product, in conjunction with the film’s release, on her Instagram.
But domestic violence isn’t pretty or polished.
Only after weeks of happy, bubbly interviews promoting the film did Lively respond on Tuesday to criticism by linking to a hotline on her Instagram stories.
Sony Pictures Entertainment Chair-CEO Tony Vinciquerra told The Hollywood Reporter that Lively’s “passion and commitment to advancing the conversation around domestic violence is commendable.”
Domestic violence survivors may disagree and find those efforts disappointing. Rightly so.
It’s not Hollywood’s job to stop domestic violence, but it’s frustrating to see how little the producers and the cast have used this movie and their other platforms to spread the conversation about abuse and to highlight resources for survivors.
They missed a big opportunity.
Nicole Russell is an opinion columnist with USA TODAY. She lives in Texas with her four kids. Sign up for her newsletter, The Right Track, and get it delivered to your inbox.