Jessie Buckley stars in Netflix’s newest film — Photo courtesy of indiewire.com
**
spoilers about halfway through
****
If you’re a fan of Charlie Kaufman’s work, you know what you’re going to get at this point. Death, isolation, time, love, identity, these themes have stayed pretty consistently present throughout all of his artistic endeavors. So after finishing reading Iain Reid’s 2016 novel of which this film is adapted from, it was easy to see why this was right up Kaufman’s alley. However, what wasn’t as easy to see was how, despite sticking to somewhat of the same general thematic mold,
I’m Thinking of Ending Things
would come to represent an inversion of his usual trappings, all while maintaining that same unique voice and vision and that has been gravely missed over the past 5 years.
Our nameless (or name-fluid?) protagonist, played by the wonderful Jessie Buckley, is thinking of ending things with her boyfriend of a couple of months or so (or a year, a week? Who can say for sure). She’s not quite sure exactly why she wants to, or exactly how she will, but the thought is there, rattling around in the back of her mind like a loose screw. She knows that this relationship has reached its final moments. But despite this unfakeable thought, she decides to join her boyfriend Jake (played by Jesse Plemons) on a road trip to his parents’ farmhouse, deep in the heart of the countryside. Things feel off from the jump, and only seem to get stranger as the night goes along. I could get into more of the plot, but any attempt to explain it in writing is mostly futile. This isn’t to say that I found it to be particularly confusing like many others have (admittedly, I had preordained knowledge of what the basic idea and twist would be, given I finished the book, some saying this doesn’t mean much), but it dips into very surreal territory very quickly, tapping into an inexplicable feeling of being stuck in time, exploring our fragile yet intertwined relationships with each other, the media we consume, the passage of time, and with ourselves.
Over a third of this film actually takes place inside of a car, with the two main characters either conversing or us hearing Buckley’s narration of her internal monologue. They discuss everything from
A Woman Under The Influence,
to trains, to the universality of the phrase “wow” and just about everything in between. Most of my reservations actually stem from the dialogue that takes place here actually, as it has a tendency to become dour, philosophical, and reference heavy to the point where things become both tedious and a little bit indulgent (as Kaufman films tend to get). However, this never annoyed me too much, and I’ve mostly come around on the fact that the nature of these conversations are both purposeful and contribute to the overall themes being explored. This is where a second viewing becomes very beneficial, allowing you to read into these conversations in a different, much more depressing light. As they shift from light-hearted debate to a man’s conversation with another side of himself, a side trying to convince himself of how hopeless things are, and how wrong he has been about everything.
Despite the lack of visual diversity, Cinematographer
Łukasz Żal
(
Cold War)
does an excellent job keeping things interesting. The amount of different shots he conjures up surrounding a single car is quite impressive, but his skills really shine once inside the farmhouse, as the camera gets to really move throughout this lived-in yet eerily dead space that has been wonderfully constructed by the set design team and accentuated by a fantastic soundscape. This is where things really get going, as Toni Collette and David Thewlis make for a great addition to this film, pulling off characters positioned at multiple times and places in their lives with a sort of unhinged energy that so few actors can pull off. Their appearances mark a real transition into psychological horror for the film, as the house begins to shift through time and space, leading to nothing feeling quite right. Our characters are unstuck in time here, unable to escape the confines of their past or future, causing them to become dysfunctional within the present. The farmhouse becomes a space where hopefulness is causing glitches in the very fabric of each character’s entire being. This leads to some of the most unsettling, and even the most comical, moments of the film, and I think this is where it really shines, hammering home the central ideas of time and identity that are so ever-present throughout the movie.
Spoilers to follow!
Now this movie is undoubtedly going to be labeled as a tragedy surrounding a man’s suicide, and the internal struggle and isolation that lead up to it. And while that certainly isn’t an incorrect reading of it, I only think it’s a piece of the puzzle. In actuality, I think this film is much interested in grappling with the idea that humans are almost always entirely incapable of living within and understanding the experiences of others, but maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t really have to. This is something Kaufman explores in
Synecdoche, New York
very much so, as Caden is portrayed as quite egocentric and self-centered, unable to consider that other people have issues of their own, but that idea more or less takes a back seat in comparison to the infinite other themes that are going on in that film.
I’m Thinking of Ending Things,
however, has this idea at the very heart of itself, and in many ways is suited perfectly to Kaufman’s first female lead story. Let’s take a look at our main character, The Young Woman, for example. She, quite literally, exists only as a projection of one man’s experiences, desires, and personifications, molded by the media he consumes and the dreams that have not turned reality. What results is the Young Woman living in a nightmare, a world constantly changing and morphing. A world in which she cannot escape. From the moment she steps in that car, nothing ever quite seems right. Her thoughts are not her own. She has trouble functioning. She’s thinking of ending things but doesn’t quite know-how. The world she lives in is not her own. This heavily deals with the idea of men having a tendency to place a lot of pressure on women to be the wind behind their sails, an entity meant only to fill in their own missing pieces, and while I may not be the one to write about these feminist themes at length or the one to attest to whether or not they’re handled well, I think they’re hard to avoid talking about in the context of the film. This pressure to support leads to identity crises (hence, the name changing of the Young Woman, changing of back story, changing of… everything. “I don’t even know who I am anymore” she exclaims at one point) which are re-enforced time and time again in our patriarchal society. Buckley performs this role wonderfully, and with a sort of nuance that you don’t often see from less experienced actors. Her internal dialogue, confused expressions, and desperation to get back home all display a sort of terror and uncertainty in both her difficult situation and the world around her. Much like David Lynch said when explaining the inexplicable
Inland Empire
, this is simply about “a woman in trouble”. Whether she’s real or not, metaphorical or not, why is it fair that she has to deal with Jake’s pain when she has reservations and struggles of her own?
This isn’t to say that our lonely janitor’s story isn’t tragic in its own right. Having to be reminded of your lost youth every day of your life is rather difficult, and even more so, is having to come face to face with the fact that an encounter that shaped your entire life meant absolutely nothing to the other person involved. This is what makes the final 15 minutes of this so heartbreaking, as it is the cinematic equivalent of a dream dying, and a man succumbing to the beast that is father time. The dance sequence that follows is maybe my favorite moment in this entire film, displaying both the beauty and futility that comes with hope and how it inevitably withers away, through dreamlike choreography and the wonderful and melancholic orchestral rendition of
Many a New Day
, from
Oklahoma!
But I think Kaufman is aiming for something much more nuanced than “poor lonely guy kills himself due to society alienating him”. I mean, this isn’t a Joker or pro-incel movie, as many seem to be claiming. In fact, Kaufman spends a lot of time exploring the specifically human trait of having a constant and unwavering desire for others to sympathize with your struggles. We’re always looking for someone to blame, an idea our main couple explores when discussing the tendency to label mothers as the root of their children’s issues.“Mothers are people too with struggles and trauma of their own”, The Young Woman tries to explain to a visibly upset Jake, again emphasizing the idea of male selfishness when it comes to dealing with internal strife. Now I don’t think Kaufman is necessarily advocating for a world without sympathy, however, because Jake isn’t painted as this pitiless and evil creature. He’s nuanced and full of internal struggle himself. Plemons is stellar as well here, and you can feel his despair shine through with every furrow of the brow and sideways glance. I think that’s why I love this so much, it goes beyond your average breakup/tragedy, not simply becoming a tragic pity-fest, but delving into why it might just be all his fault. Jake doesn’t just kill himself because the world wronged him in the end, he kills himself because he comes to terms with the fact that no matter what he did, things would always end up like this. He would always find a way to fuck things up with whatever person he hypothetically loved.
I’m Thinking Of Ending Things
is such a dense film, and despite its flaws, it’s hard not to appreciate how truly unique, emotional, and human the adaptation Kaufman has created is. This isn’t to say that thematic density equates to quality, but I think the way Kaufman ties together so many ideas seamlessly is impressive and makes for such a great experience. This isn’t going to change the mind of any Kaufman haters, and die-hard fans of the novel may come away from this feeling a little annoyed with the inclusions and changes from the original material, but I personally think that a 1 to 1 copy would have felt like a letdown, and seeing Kaufman’s different take on such great subject matter is just what I wanted out of this. Framing this idea of “ending things” around both the inevitable rift that forms in many relationships and the difficulty in moving on, despite knowing that it is the only possible outcome is so genius. It’s easier to stay complacent, isn’t it? In relationships, in our careers, in our opinions, in everything. It’s always easier to stay the same. Why move forward and change when nothing but pain and treachery waits for you in the unknown? Because you die if you jump off that moving train, I suppose. “You don’t have to go,” the girl at the ice cream stand says, but what’s the other option? What way is there other than forward? Time is an unstoppable force moving through all of us, and we all have to leave the farmhouse eventually.