Charlie Kaufman isn’t known for the straightforwardness of his composition. The screenwriter behind such baffling and psyche twisting movies as ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, ‘Adaptation’, and ‘Being John Malkovich’ has another Netflix film called ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ — and the ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ ending shows the film will undoubtedly be his most discussed and befuddling work yet. In contrast to a large portion of Kaufman’s past movies, ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ is anything but an entirely unique work. Kaufman adjusted the film from the 2016 novel of a similar name by Canadian author Iain Reid. In spite of having an outline to work from, nonetheless, Kaufman despite everything figures out how to make a film that is significantly more peculiar than its truly unusual motivation; particularly with regards to the completion.
From the trailer, it was apparent that ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ won’t be a simple watch. It rather gave the feeling of an intense scholarly exposition, that every other student raves about, however, nobody has really perused. Also, with a name like Charlie Kaufman behind it, the readings on the dreamlike and dubious scale just went higher. Separated in three sections, ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ is basically about a young lady played by Jessie Buckley who is involved with Jake played by Jesse Plemmons, and after seven weeks, the two of them leave on an excursion to meet his folks. Be that as it may, directly before the outing starts, we hear the young lady’s inward talk, starting with the somewhat dismal expression, which is heard a few times throughout the movie — I’m considering finishing things. She keeps repeating this throughout the first part of the movie like a broken record.
That long excursion is penetrated by constrained discussion, and the separation between the two extends as they approach the objective. With each passing minute, one can notice the problematic areas in the relationship. They don’t seem like a normal couple and obviously there is a distance between them. He discloses Wordsworth to her, in a practically disparaging tone, and she attempts to mix further into the upholstery of the vehicle seat. With a blizzard blasting outside, they have nobody else to go to, and despairing burdens them. After much pestering by the guy. Lucy recites a beautiful poem ‘Dogbone’ which reverberated her inner sadness. At this point in time, one is confused about her actual name since she keeps getting calls from someone named Lucy.
There is a feeling of increased premonition, as we meet the aged parents of Jake, played by Toni Collette and David Thewlis. We suspect that Jake doesn’t care to be contacted, or indicated warmth by his mom, and he additionally feels insulted. He unequivocally feels that he ought to have the acumen pin in secondary school, and not the diligence one. After a profoundly emotional supper, which highlighted some irregular upheavals there is some to and fro in time, when Lucy experiences the matured, laid up adaptations of Jake’s guardians, and a somewhat youthful one as well, the couple advances back to the city, helped by tire chains as the blizzard has developed to an undeniable snowstorm. The account is regularly cut by scenes of an older janitor tidying up the neighborhood secondary school, evidently its the one which Jake joined in. There is a dream scene where Jake gives a discourse and sings when he acknowledges a Nobel prize.
All customary shows of narrating have been overturned by Kaufman in ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things.’ Rather, we get scenes and pieces of discussions which may trigger individual reactions from individuals who identify with the said events. We see the difference in hues: the splendid tangerine red coat brandished by Lucy goes to a quiet naval force blue, the woven artwork in Jakes’ parental home movements tints from a powerful turquoise blue to a warm consumed sienna. The film requests to be deciphered from our own encounters and points of view. Time here is a boundless circle and traps its characters inside it. This plays into Kaufman’s concept of the worthlessness of associating with an individual when all you are truly doing is making up for a shortcoming of depression that you have been conveying inside yourself. So you are caught in a circle where your depression winds up definitely hauling them and the relationship down with it. Kaufman comprehends isolation is vital to self-information, yet contemplates whether there is an approach to know ourselves without the devastating dejection.
Where Kaufman truly eclipses Reid is in the consummation, exchanging the book’s bend for a strange epilogue, brimming with dream expressive dance, dramatic discourses, and animated pigs, convincing us to look for reality in the guile. It carefully contorts the source material into something unquestionably all the more influencing to remove the edge from the nervousness that preceded it.