What if the most terrifying thing about time loops isn't the repetition, but the realization that you're trapped in a story you didn't write? That's the existential punchline of It Ends, a film that dares to ask: What if the horror isn't the endless running, but the fact that you're forced to confront your own meaninglessness in a world that doesn't care? Alexander Ullom's debut isn't just another entry in the time loop genre—it's a psychological scalpel slicing open the genre's deepest anxieties. And honestly, I think that's why it feels so fresh. We've all seen characters reliving Groundhog Day, but what happens when the loop becomes a prison with no exit, and the only escape is self-destruction? That's the question It Ends throws at you, and it's one that's been haunting us long before TikTok trends made liminal horror a thing.
Let's unpack this. The time loop trope has always been a metaphor for modern life—stuck in cycles of work, social media, and existential dread. But It Ends takes that idea and drowns it in a forest that never ends. The four college grads in the film aren't just reliving a day; they're being forced to stare into the abyss of their own mortality while being hunted by faceless entities. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it merges the slasher genre's physical terror with the existential dread of plays like No Exit. You don't just fear the monsters—they're a metaphor for the inescapable weight of your own choices. And here's the kicker: the film doesn't give you answers. It doesn't even promise closure. That's what I find so chilling. In an age where we crave resolution, It Ends serves up a nihilistic punchline: sometimes, the loop is the point.
Now, let's talk about liminal horror. If you've ever wandered through a haunted house on the internet or scrolled through Backrooms memes, you know the feeling—it's the terror of being in a space that exists between realities. But It Ends takes that concept and weaponizes it. The forest isn't just a setting; it's a character, a living entity that feeds on the protagonist's despair. What many people don't realize is that liminal horror taps into something primal: the fear of not belonging. These Gen Z protagonists aren't just lost in a forest—they're lost in a world that refuses to acknowledge them. And that, my friends, is a very modern nightmare. It's not just about the monsters in the woods; it's about the monsters inside us, the ones we create when we feel invisible.
Here's where It Ends gets really interesting. Unlike Backrooms, which leaned into the YouTube horror aesthetic with its endless corridors and ambiguous threats, this film grounds its terror in human psychology. The characters aren't just running from monsters; they're running from their own guilt, their own failures. One thing that immediately stands out is how the film uses dialogue to explore these themes. These aren't just teenagers screaming in the dark—they're having existential conversations about free will, determinism, and the futility of trying to escape a fate you didn't choose. If you take a step back and think about it, this is the ultimate Gen Z horror story: a world where you're never in control, and the only thing worse than the monsters is the realization that you're complicit in your own suffering.
But what does this say about the future of horror? I believe It Ends is part of a larger trend where horror is becoming more introspective. We're tired of jump scares and bloodshed. We want to feel something real, something that mirrors our own struggles. This raises a deeper question: Is liminal horror the next big thing, or is it just a passing phase? A detail that I find especially interesting is how the film uses its setting as a metaphor for mental health. The endless forest could represent depression, the monsters could be anxiety, and the time loop? That's the feeling of being stuck in a cycle you can't break. And if that's the case, then It Ends isn't just a horror film—it's a mirror held up to our collective psyche.
In my opinion, It Ends is a masterclass in subverting genre expectations. It doesn't just play with the time loop formula; it dismantles it. The film's greatest strength is its refusal to offer easy answers, which is why I think it will resonate so deeply with audiences. This isn't just about surviving a nightmare—it's about confronting the parts of yourself you've been avoiding. And if that's not a reason to watch it, I don't know what is. The real horror isn't the monsters in the forest. It's the fact that we're all walking through our own liminal spaces, and sometimes, the only way out is to face what's inside.
