Ullom on the visual transition in “It Ends”
When you look at the world—at the chaos, the anxiety, and the relentless modern rush—it often feels like we are trapped in a perpetual state of transition. Director Alexander Ullom‘s film It Ends captures this feeling perfectly, not just through its high-octane horror and hangout movie aesthetics, but through a profound meditation on what it means to navigate the limbo of growing up.
The film follows four recent college graduates—James, Tyler, Fisher, and Day—who embark on a seemingly endless road trip. They realize that every attempt to find a pause only results in a ninety-second reprieve before they are swarmed by screaming hordes. Stuck on a never-ending journey, the crew must grapple with what this purgatorial state means for the futures they once envisioned, blending the high anxiety of a horror chase with the banality of a road trip.
This journey isn’t just about escaping monsters; it’s about escaping existential dread. Ullom taps into a deep, shared human longing for vessels to process rage, angst, and grief. Drawing inspiration from the timeless sentiment of Fred Rogers, the film explores the terrifying question of hope: can depression be ruled out, even when surrounded by chaos?
The film’s core tension lies in the conflict between action and introspection. While the external threat demands immediate confrontation, the characters are forced to confront their inner selves. This duality mirrors the struggle of modern life: the urge to conquer conflict versus the need for genuine connection and healing.
Beyond the screen, Ullom’s perspective on this modern limbo offers a fascinating look at our relationship with structure. As society’s traditional anchors—be they religion or stable family structures—dissolve, people find themselves adrift in a state of liminality. This feeling is intensified by the sheer velocity of the digital age, where trauma is often processed through desensitization. We are walking around with a kind of functional numbness, having become desensitized to the emotional fallout of witnessing suffering online.
To cope with this widespread meaninglessness, the characters engage in coping rituals. These rituals, whether it’s the physical release of screaming or the mental space created by shared memes, are attempts to graft order onto the otherworldly. They are ways to shrink overwhelming realities down to a manageable size.
Ullom suggests that the search for meaning in this fragmented world is less about objective truth and more about subjective debate. In the absence of overarching moral systems, the silly, often absurd questions we pose—like whether a gorilla or a bear wins a fight—become a spiritual battleground. It’s in these debates that we find a unifying moral structure, reminding us that the limit of human experience is often defined by questions without an answer.
Ultimately, the film asks us how we handle the weight of eternity, and where we find our solace in the present. By blending the visceral fear of the road with the gentle need for connection, It Ends offers a powerful reminder that even amidst the deepest despair, connecting with others in conversation is the most potent antidote to the void. It’s a story about surviving the transition, and finding the courage to live fully in the space between what was and what is.