Romanticizing abuse: The dangerous narrative in It Ends With Us

Image from: Ava Rezai.

The recent conflict involving Blake Lively, Colleen Hoover, and their team against Justin Baldoni highlights a troubling trend in the entertainment industry: the prioritization of commercial success and celebrity status, at the expense of delivering important messages. With the release of the It Ends With Us movie adaptation, this situation has evolved beyond mere celebrity gossip—it’s a clear indication of how easily fame can obscure meaningful content.

Let’s start with Colleen Hoover, whose name has become synonymous with contemporary romance. Millennial women flock to Barnes and Noble to read her copy-and-paste romance novels, just to scurry to social media afterward and rave about how they are “readers.” Hoover has achieved remarkable commercial success, establishing herself as a well-known author. However, the film adaptation of her book reveals that popularity does not equate to quality, as the movie carries over her tone-deaf narratives, predictable plots, and emotionally manipulative storytelling, which unfortunately continue to romanticize abusive relationships instead of addressing them with the seriousness they warrant.

Then there’s Blake Lively, who plays the lead role in It Ends With Us. Instead of providing a new viewpoint, Lively’s performance and the film itself comes off as a polished, star-studded Hollywood production that misses the essence of the serious issues at hand. The movie, like the book, is promoted as a candid examination of domestic violence and its emotional impact on survivors. Yet, despite these assertions, the film fails to treat the subject with the necessary weight, falling into the same perilous pattern as the novel: romanticizing the very abuse it aims to critique.

The main problem with It Ends With Us is how it portrays Ryle, the abuser. Similar to the novel, the film depicts Ryle as a deeply flawed yet redeemable character, which downplays the seriousness of his abusive actions and turns them into a mere plot device. By presenting him as someone battling inner demons, the movie risks romanticizing his behavior, implying that abusive actions can be excused or forgiven in the name of love. This softened portrayal of domestic violence is highly problematic, as it suggests that love can somehow fix or justify abusive patterns, normalizing toxic relationships for viewers.

The romanticization of domestic violence in the film is not just a poor storytelling choice; it also undermines the experiences of viewers who may be dealing with similar situations. Instead of providing a realistic or responsible depiction of abuse, the film diminishes the gravity of the issue, favoring dramatic moments that make Ryle appear more sympathetic than threatening. This flawed representation leads audiences to downplay or rationalize abusive behavior in their own lives, which is especially dangerous for those in or healing from toxic relationships.

Blake Lively’s involvement, along with the film’s glamorous Hollywood aesthetic, attracts a broader audience, but at what cost? Instead of enhancing the narrative, her star power risks normalizing the notion that abuse can be trivialized in the context of love and redemption. Rather than offering a nuanced look at the dangerous cycle of abuse, the film prioritizes dramatic twists and Lively’s star power, while minimizing the seriousness of the subject. This adaptation, similar to the novel, highlights how in today’s media environment, commercial success often overshadows the need for responsible and meaningful storytelling.