Unraveling Minds: The Hypnotic Nightmare of ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ (2020)
In the swirling snow of a remote Oklahoma farm, a simple road trip twists into an infinite loop of doubt, identity, and unspoken regrets.
Charlie Kaufman’s 2020 adaptation of Iain Reid’s novel plunges viewers into a cerebral storm where reality frays at the edges, blending domestic unease with metaphysical horror. This film stands as a testament to Kaufman’s unrelenting exploration of the human psyche, delivered through a visually arresting lens that lingers long after the credits fade.
- A disorienting narrative structure that blurs timelines, identities, and truths, challenging perceptions of memory and self.
- Kaufman’s signature surrealism amplified by stellar performances from Jessie Buckley and Jesse Plemons, who embody the film’s emotional core.
- A profound meditation on relationships, aging, and regret, wrapped in layers of cultural references and dreamlike sequences.
The Icy Descent: A Journey into Narrative Ambiguity
The film opens with a young woman, played by Jessie Buckley, riding shotgun in her boyfriend Jake’s car as they head through a blizzard to meet his parents for the first time. She harbours thoughts of ending the relationship, a sentiment that echoes the novel’s title and permeates every frame. What begins as a tense, awkward road trip soon spirals into something far more unsettling. Kaufman masterfully employs voiceover narration from the woman, revealing her inner monologue of dissatisfaction and foreboding, setting a tone of creeping dread without overt exposition.
As they arrive at the parents’ isolated farmhouse, the environment itself becomes a character: decrepit, snowbound, and echoing with the sounds of creaking floorboards and distant pigs. Dinner unfolds in a series of increasingly bizarre exchanges, where conversations loop and contradict, hinting at deeper fractures. The parents, portrayed by Toni Collette and David Thewlis, shift ages and demeanours unpredictably, their dialogue laced with non-sequiturs about pigs, poetry, and forgotten dreams. This domestic surrealism recalls the everyday horrors of films like Rosemary’s Baby, but Kaufman infuses it with his unique philosophical bent.
The road trip back proves even more labyrinthine, with detours into dream sequences, ballets, and janitor fantasies that erode the boundaries between past, present, and imagination. Key moments, such as the discovery of a frozen body by the road or the inexplicable appearance of a janitor at a high school dance, force audiences to question what is real. Kaufman’s script, faithful yet expansive to the source material, weaves in references to John Cassavetes films, William Wordsworth poetry, and even Oklahoma! musical numbers, creating a tapestry of cultural detritus that mirrors the mind’s clutter.
Visually, cinematographer Lol Crawley’s work captures the film’s wintry isolation with long, fluid takes and a desaturated palette that evokes emotional barrenness. The snow-covered landscapes stretch endlessly, symbolising the inescapable loop of regret. Sound design plays a crucial role too: the relentless hum of the car engine, muffled dialogues, and sudden bursts of music underscore the psychological descent, making silence as oppressive as the storm outside.
Identity’s Fractured Mirror: Characters in Perpetual Flux
At the heart of the film lie its characters, none more enigmatic than the young woman, whose name, profession, and backstory shift fluidly. Is she a physicist, a waitress, or something else entirely? Buckley’s performance captures this multiplicity with subtle micro-expressions—fleeting smiles masking unease, eyes darting as if piecing together a dissolving puzzle. Her portrayal grounds the film’s abstraction, making the audience empathise with her growing disorientation.
Jesse Plemons’ Jake embodies the everyman turned uncanny, his affable charm curdling into something possessive and infantilised. As the night progresses, he morphs into echoes of his parents and even the janitor, suggesting a shared consciousness or cyclical existence. Plemons draws on his history of playing grounded yet sinister figures, infusing Jake with a quiet menace that builds palpably. Their relationship dynamic dissects the minutiae of incompatibility: forced laughs at inside jokes, debates over film quotes, all underscoring the hollowness of connection.
The parents serve as grotesque avatars of aging and parental failure. Collette’s mother vacillates between maternal warmth and grotesque infirmity, her leg inexplicably bandaged one moment and absent the next. Thewlis’ father fares no better, his hunting tales devolving into incoherent ramblings. These portrayals amplify themes of entropy, where time accelerates and regresses arbitrarily, a nod to Kaufman’s fascination with mortality seen in earlier works.
Peripheral figures, like the janitor—a recurring motif linking to Jake’s youthful dreams—add layers of interpretation. Played in fragments by Plemons and others, he represents unlived potential, the life not chosen. Scenes at the high school prom, with its awkward dance and yellow dress, evoke universal pangs of nostalgia and loss, transforming personal regret into collective experience.
Philosophical Undercurrents: Time, Regret, and the Human Condition
Kaufman’s films often grapple with existential quandaries, and this one is no exception. The narrative’s looping structure posits time not as linear but as a Möbius strip, where endings circle back to beginnings. The woman’s persistent thoughts of “ending things” extend beyond romance to life’s futility, echoing Iain Reid’s novel where memory unravels under scrutiny. Kaufman expands this into a broader critique of self-deception, where we retrofit narratives to suit our egos.
Relationships emerge as battlegrounds for identity theft: Jake imposes his visions onto the woman, reciting poetry she claims as her own or anticipating her words verbatim. This psychic vampirism critiques codependency, particularly in long-term partnerships where individuality erodes. The film’s Oklahoma setting, vast and empty, amplifies isolation, contrasting the intimacy of the car and house with cosmic indifference.
Cultural references abound, from Nobel Prize discussions to dissected pigs symbolising vivisection of the soul. Kaufman uses these as intellectual Easter eggs, rewarding repeat viewings while critiquing intellectualism as another evasion tactic. The ballet sequence, a hallucinatory highlight, fuses The Nutcracker grace with body horror, bodies piling in choreographed decay—a visceral metaphor for life’s inexorable decay.
Critics have praised the film’s ambition, though some decry its opacity. Yet this resistance to easy answers mirrors real psychological turmoil, where closure remains elusive. In a post-pandemic world, its themes of entrapment and introspection resonate anew, positioning it as a modern heir to 1970s art-house thrillers like Don’t Look Now.
Craft and Innovation: Kaufman’s Technical Mastery
Production faced challenges typical of Kaufman’s independent ethos: shot during a brutal Canadian winter standing in for Oklahoma, the crew battled real blizzards while crafting artificial ones. Netflix’s backing allowed for uncompromised vision, from practical effects in the farmhouse decay to seamless digital morphing of actors’ faces—a technique pushing boundaries without relying on CGI spectacle.
Mickey Curran’s score, sparse piano and strings, builds tension through omission, letting ambient sounds dominate. Editing by Karl Kittel, with its abrupt cuts and repetitions, mimics memory’s unreliability, disorienting viewers as effectively as the characters. This technical precision elevates the film beyond gimmickry, rooting surrealism in meticulous craft.
Compared to Kaufman’s prior directorial efforts, this marks a refinement: tighter than Synecdoche, New York‘s sprawl, more intimate than Anomalisa‘s stop-motion alienation. It bridges his screenwriting roots with assured filmmaking, influencing a wave of psychological indies.
Legacy in the Streaming Era: Enduring Echoes
Released amid 2020’s lockdowns, the film found a captive audience craving introspection. Though divisive upon debut, its cult status grows via online dissections and fan theories positing the janitor as the true protagonist—a life unlived by Jake. Streaming has immortalised it, allowing endless rewatches that reveal new layers, much like Mulholland Drive.
Its influence ripples into contemporary horror, emphasising slow-burn dread over jumpscares. Collectors prize original posters and novel tie-ins, while Blu-ray editions unpack Kaufman’s annotations. As nostalgia for introspective cinema revives, it cements Kaufman’s place among auteurs who weaponise the mind against complacency.
Ultimately, I’m Thinking of Ending Things defies summation, inviting personal projection. It challenges us to confront our own dissolving narratives, a mirror held to the soul’s quiet chaos.
Director in the Spotlight: Charlie Kaufman
Charlie Kaufman, born November 19, 1958, in New York City to a Jewish family, grew up in Massapequa, Long Island, nurturing a passion for storytelling amid suburban ennui. After studying film at New York University, he toiled in unfulfilling jobs—puppeteering, animation—before breaking through as a screenwriter. His scripts redefined Hollywood introspection, blending absurdity with profundity.
Kaufman’s career skyrocketed with Being John Malkovich (1999), a portal-fantasy meta-comedy directed by Spike Jonze, earning an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay. This was followed by Adaptation (2002), another Jonze collaboration starring Nicolas Cage as dual Kaufmans, dissecting writer’s block with fractal brilliance; it garnered another screenplay nod.
Directing debut Synecdoche, New York (2008) starred Philip Seymour Hoffman in a sprawling allegory of life-as-theatre, cementing Kaufman’s thematic obsessions: identity, death, artifice. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), scripted for Michel Gondry, won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, erasing memories in a heart-wrenching romance with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet.
Later works include Anomalisa (2015), a stop-motion puppet fable on alienation co-directed with Duke Johnson, and unproduced scripts like Frank or Francis. Kaufman penned Antichrist (2009) elements for Lars von Trier and contributed to Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002). His theatre piece Here and Now (2019) explored multiverses onstage. Influences span Kafka, Philip K. Dick, and Cassavetes, fuelling his war on narrative convention. Today, Kaufman remains a reclusive visionary, pushing cinema’s philosophical frontiers.
Actor in the Spotlight: Jessie Buckley
Jessie Buckley, born December 28, 1989, in Killarney, Ireland, rose from pub gigs and theatre to international acclaim. A I’d Do Anything runner-up in 2008, she honed her craft at RADA, debuting professionally in The Tempest. Her breakout came with Wild Rose (2018), earning a BAFTA Rising Star nod as a Glaswegian country singer chasing dreams.
Buckley’s filmography explodes post-2018: Beast (2017) opposite Johnny Flynn in a feral romance-thriller; Judas and the Black Messiah (2021) as Debbie O’Neal; The Lost Daughter (2021) under Maggie Gyllenhaal, showcasing dramatic depth. Television triumphs include Chernobyl (2019) as Lyudmilla, Fargo Season 4 (2020) as Nurse Mayflower, and State of the Union (2022) earning an Emmy.
Stage work shines: The Ferryman (2017) on Broadway for Olivier/Broadway nods; Cabaret (2021) as Sally Bowles, winning Olivier Award. Women Talking (2022) and Fingersmith (2023 BBC) highlight versatility. Nominated for BAFTA, Emmy, Golden Globe, her raw intensity and musicality—seen in I’m Thinking of Ending Things—mark her as a generational force, blending vulnerability with ferocity.
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Bibliography
Reid, I. (2016) I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Gallery/Scout Press.
Scott, A.O. (2020) ‘Review: In “I’m Thinking of Ending Things,” a Date With Possibility’, New York Times. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/04/movies/im-thinking-of-ending-things-review-charlie-kaufman.html (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Bradshaw, P. (2020) ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things review – Charlie Kaufman’s existential road trip is a masterpiece’, The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/sep/10/im-thinking-of-ending-things-review-charlie-kaufman-jessie-buckley (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Rosenberg, A. (2020) ‘Charlie Kaufman Breaks Down That Wild Ending’, Vulture. Available at: https://www.vulture.com/article/im-thinking-of-ending-things-ending-explained-charlie-kaufman.html (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Erickson, H. (2021) ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’, American Film Institute Catalog. Available at: https://catalog.afi.com/Catalog/moviedetails/81195 (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Travers, P. (2020) ‘‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ Review: Charlie Kaufman’s Head Trip to Hell’, Rolling Stone. Available at: https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-reviews/im-thinking-of-ending-things-review-charlie-kaufman-1064752/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).
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