I’m Thinking of Ending Things: Wintery Cerebral Unreality

“I’m thinking of ending things.” This thought, its preconception, and staying power are the first things discussed in the film titled after this phrase. The interesting concept immediately posed is the narrator/main character’s confusion at why she’s been feeling this way, why and how did it start given their rare and intense connection, so touching for romantics and cynics alike who have themselves ever felt the same.

The thought quickly takes a power of its own from the start of the main character’s first trip with her partner, Jake, to see his parents. Snow is falling in the background picturesquely as you get close shots between them in the car, him asking if she’d just said anything while the audience hears her continuing to dwell and question her desire to end things, her near resolution at this point. Does he know? Did she already let it slip and he’s playing it off?

Revelations about their relationship playing out in her mind continue in the background, keeping the movie’s thought-provoke moving in interesting directions and causing the audience to ponder these thoughts and their perspectives on them along with her. Why is she still interested in visiting his childhood home? Is it to uncover the deeper mysteries of him out of pure curiosity? Why are they interesting and looked at as a couple but feel invisible when alone?

These thoughts then transition into a haunting, fascinating poem recited by the main character, who ends up reciting directly to the audience from the other side of the passenger side window. An equally engaging discussion follows as this couple discusses the unreality grown from media entertainment into audience minds, this so-called collective malady, as well as this virus is just being another life seeking life, and whether or not some lives seek death, from some types of aphids to suicide bombers.

Then the couple arrives and the close-shot awkwardness between their interactions mixed with her intricate life ponderings blend into the winter landscape in a way that almost presents a subtle tension to the audience. When you meet the parents with whom the couple spends a ham dinner of wholly untold mother-son tensions, the questions and mysteries further build far past the couple.

Are the parents suffering medical/ psychological conditions or just painfully isolated most days? What are those deep scratches on the hall’s unopened door from? Why does the main character believe a photo in the living room is of her younger self and not her partner? Who is that cryptic voicemail she receives from, professing some kind of psychological breakthrough, or maybe just a break? All are haunting and unforetold in this artistic winter tale, as reality itself, time, and aging begin to devolve. It’s a great watch that just keeps spinning, similar to another titled Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.