In the end, Nocturnal Animals barely feels like a film made by a human being. You could just dub it a “stylish exercise” and call it a day. But I just can’t shake the fact that Ford somehow wants it to be more. The movie feels glazed and remote, a surface with all the identifying fingerprints polished off. What would it look like if Ford had left them on?
-Stephanie Zacharek, TIME
The somewhat enigmatic ending of the film annoyed some of the people around me at the press screening — and I confess I’ll probably need to sit with it for a while to fully understand what Ford was going for with it — but “Nocturnal Animals” packs a real punch and confirms that “A Single Man” was no fluke.
-Alonso Duralde, THE WRAP
I included the first quote because it’s frustrating. And the second quote because I want this piece to help clarify the end of Nocturnal Animals.
A lot of viewers and critics have rightly pointed out the metaphor that is Edward Sheffield’s novel. The story of Tony Hastings represents how Edward felt about what happened between him and Susan (Amy Adams)—another man came and took Susan from him. Content aside, our main clue is that Jake Gyllenhaal plays both Edward and Tony.
In the film’s middle, Susan has flashbacks to her time with Edward, when they were in their 20s. During one flashback, she reads a draft of a story and tells Edward that he needs to not write about himself. Which could seem harsh but… Think about where he was and who he was at the time: a struggling writer in NYC. Given her criticism, he probably had been writing about a struggling writer in NYC. That can work, but it’s also too easy. And has been done to death.
At this point, two or more decades later, Edward has managed to write about himself in a way that would, to anyone who didn’t know him, seem completely fictional. That is, to me, absolutely a sign of mastery—when you can make the real into the surreal and the surreal resonate with someone else’s reality.
Ostensibly, Edward’s using the story of Tony to not only express and exorcise the pain he felt at losing Susan but also fantasize about the revenge he would take on her husband/his replacement, Hutton Morrow (Armie Hammer). The novel is an act of catharsis, as most art is.
With that said, let’s dive into that enigmatic final scene.
The ending
Susan has asked Edward to get dinner with her. Edward says some nice guy thing in the vein of, “Name the time and place and I’m there”. We see Susan get dressed up. She does her make-up. Then arrives at the restaurant. This fancy, fancy place. She enters. The sever sits her at an empty table.
She waits.
Has a drink.
Waits more.
We hear a hostess say, “This way, sir,” and Susan smiles, thinking it’s Edward, but the person goes to another table. Time passes. The tables clear. She drinks more. And Edward never shows up. THE END.
There are two meanings to take away from this ending. Let’s start with what might be the simpler of the two.
Edward’s novel was a classic revenge plot that the 90s and Mel Gibson would be proud of. You’ve probably seen a revenge movie before. The Crow, I Spit On Your Grave, Kill Bill, Payback, Braveheart, Apocalypto, Mad Max, Edge of Darkness, The Lion King, Taken, John Wick. Essentially, in the first 20 minutes someone is killed or kidnapped or the main character gets attacked and left for dead or barely escapes a murder attempt. The main character ends up being really sad then decides to get revenge. Most of the narrative deals with the machinations of revenge, usually ending with the main character winning and moving on, or winning then dying, or winning and reuniting with whoever was kidnapped.
In reality, most of us won’t, can’t, and don’t seek physical payback. If my girlfriend cheats on me with some jerk, I’m going to write a mean text message, delete her from Facebook, be sad, drink a lot of milkshakes, and that’s that. I may hate them, but I’m not going to slash either of their tires or steal his dog or even fight him. That’s why revenge stories can make for such great cinema or literature. We get to safely and vicariously experience someone else taking extreme retribution against people so evil they deserve it. Those stories tap into not only the anger we’ve felt at some point in our life but also the powerlessness.
Nocturnal Animals actually juxtaposes the difference between revenge in fiction and revenge in reality. By having the novel-within-a-movie it makes Susan’s and Edward’s “reality” seem closer to our own, and Tony’s all the more distant. Tony’s story deals with this very emotional and heightened tale of terror, survival, and revenge. Where all we see with Susan is her at work, at a boring party, sitting at home, her at work again, a lot of baths, and then alone at a restaurant.
Edward’s character Tony can end up murdering the killer of his wife and daughter, since Tony is a work of fiction. But all Edward (who, in the movie, is “real” when compared to Tony) gets to do is write a book, send it to his ex, and then stand her up. Compare how one makes you feel to how the other makes you feel. For most of us, Tony’s form of vengeance is visceral and feels like justice. Where Edward’s is kind of petty, especially when we know how awful Susan already feels about her life. It’s just another loss for Susan. Edward’s act is far less dramatic. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t satisfying.
If Nocturnal Animals‘s theme of revenge wasn’t evident enough in Edward’s novel, we have the scene where Susan’s at work and stops before a giant picture that says:
Cinema has always been a medium of symbolic meaning, and here that symbolism is pretty strong. It not only reinforces that this is a film about revenge but offers a suggestion for how we should look at the act. Not as a singular thing, but as something fractured and protracted.
It may not seem all that climactic that Edward stood Susan up. But Susan is miserable. Her marriage sucks. We see she gets no joy from her job. She doesn’t sleep. Her daughter is off somewhere. It feels like she isn’t living in a house so much as a mausoleum. The one moment of joy we see her have is when she thought her and Hutton might go to the beach. Then Hutton shuts her down and leaves for NYC to spend time with some other woman. Because Susan’s life is so miserable, she ends up seeking refuge in Edward’s novel, because Edward’s novel is a connection to Edward, which is a connection to something outside of her current life. That’s why we get those flashbacks. She’s caught up in the nostalgia of her relationship with Edward, what had been, what could have been, and what wasn’t.
So when Edward agrees to meet Susan, that’s like…the first meaningful thing that’s happened for her in the movie. We can tell she’s hopeful. Through her flashbacks, we know she saw Edward as the nice guy, the sensitive soul. After she’s spent around two decades with Mr. Business Man, building this empty, debilitating life—Edward is such a promise of warmth, of humanity. And here she’s read this book that is so obviously about how much the loss of her crushed him. That means he must still love her, right?
So as she puts on her green dress, puts on the make up, prepares to go meet Edward, she must have such a sense of hope. But beyond that, satisfaction. Early in the movie, she tells Hutton that Edward never re-married and that’s sad. We can tell she pities Edward. He loved her. She left him, broke him. In her mind she’s always had power over Edward. She even inspired this great work of fiction, a book dedicated to her and her alone, even titled after the nickname she had because she could never fall asleep. She must think she’s going to do Edward a favor by having dinner with him.
Imagine the ego boost that must have been for her?
If, at that dinner, Edward had told her to run away with him…she might have.
Except Edward never shows up. And that crushes Susan, because it destroys the fantasy she had. The one where she still meant something to Edward. Where she still meant something to anyone. Without Edward she has no one. At least before he reached out to her, she could think to herself that, no matter how bad things were with Hutton, at least one person out there still desired her.
With that context, Edward not showing up is actually brutal. It’s not the physical act of vengeance most of us crave. It’s the much more diabolical mental and spiritual fatality, that “I’m going to take away every last bit of hope you have and leave you with absolutely nothing so that life has no meaning to you whatsoever. F*ck you.”
And that’s where we get into what’s probably the more complicated dynamic of the final scene.
Through Edward’s arc, Nocturnal Animals gets at the role emotion plays in creating art and the role creating art plays in emotion.
When Edward was happy with his life, his writing was, according to Susan’s judgment, mediocre. And it seems from the success she eventually had in the world of art that she had a strong eye. After Susan destroyed Edward’s heart, he used that pain, transmuting the very common and mundane acts of infidelity and divorce that happened in NYC into a thrilling revenge narrative set in West Texas. That’s the inspiring role emotion plays in creating art.
After writing the novel, Edward sends it to Susan, the first communication they’ve had in years. He felt empowered to do that. He felt so empowered that he then stood Susan up. Where Susan saw the book as a statement of how much Edward still cared about her, the novel was actually a sign that Edward had finally come to terms with what had happened between them. All those emotions inside of him became words on a page. That’s the cathartic role creating art plays in emotion.
Creating art draws from the abstract and ethereal and complicated sea of emotion inside of us and pours that emotion into a form outside of us. That’s one of the powers of art, to help us not only process our emotions but to get rid of them. It’s like when you finally take the time to do the dishes that have been piling up, to take out the garbage, wash those clothes, and throw out some of the things you know you haven’t needed or wanted for years. After doing those things, the sense of relief is massive. You feel a weight is off your shoulders and your home looks better and feels better to exist in.
Except Susan doesn’t have that. Multiple times, Susan says that she isn’t creative, that she can’t create. That’s why she switched from being an art major to art history. That’s why she manages a gallery and helps other artists. She can’t express her feelings. All of her fear, her pain, her stress, etc., it all stays inside of her. When it became too much with Edward, she bolted for Hutton. And even though she has all this money, all this success, she’s miserable. She has no means of catharsis. For anything she feels. That’s the equivalent of never cleaning the dishes, of never taking the trash out, and never washing clothes. What would that home look like?
This is why she can’t sleep, why she is a nocturnal animal. There’s too much on her mind.
So where Edward could work through his emotions and find, eventually, closure…that probably won’t happen for Susan. In all likelihood, things will not improve for her. Which makes Nocturnal Animals an existential revenge film. Edward doesn’t physically hurt Susan. He just destroys any hope she had for her still finding happiness.
Alonso was right to say Nocturnal Animals “packs a punch”. It’s as much a story of triumph as it is annihilation of heart and soul and psyche. That does take time to process, to unpack and appreciate. And that’s why the first quote frustrated me so much. There’s nothing glazed or remote or barely human about Nocturnal Animals. It’s dealing with the core of what humanizes and dehumanizes us, of the forces that erode and those which heal.
Update: The Concept of Forgiveness
I talked with my friend and fellow film fanatic, Jo Ro, and she made a great point about Susan, one that Vela Roland and Shakira Wade also discussed in the comments (see the bottom of the page). I had completely missed the concept of forgiveness and closure in Nocturnal Animals.
It’s funny because there’s an interview Tom Ford did where he said that he thought the film’s ending signified change and hope for Susan. At the time, I had laughed because it seemed ridiculous. I had already written this article about how tragic the end was. I had legitimately thought, “If that’s what Ford was going for, I don’t think he hit his mark.” But then talks with Jo and comments like Vela’s and Shakira’s really echoed what Ford had said.
I had initially viewed Susan reminiscing about the rise and fall of her relationship with Edward as a means of romanticizing what they had in order to transition from her dead life with Hutton to a rekindled love with Edward. I saw it as an act of an unhappy person who operated like a hermit crab, moving from one shell to another. That’s why the end of the movie would be so tragic—Susan now had no where to go. Hutton didn’t want her. And the first love she thought she could recapture: also a no go.
But the reminiscing isn’t just romanticizing the past, it’s understanding the pain you caused someone and feeling guilty about that pain. In that context, Susan isn’t reaching out to Edward for validation or hope for a rekindled romance—all she wants is to alleviate the guilt. She doesn’t want to feel responsible for having broken him or ruined him. So her e-mails aren’t necessarily romantic gestures. They would be an olive branch. Same with the dinner. It’s not about her wooing Edward, it’s about apologizing, seeing he’s okay, and finding closure. The same kind of closure we see Tony trying to gain in Edward’s novel.
Edward not showing up becomes a bittersweet victory for Susan. On the one hand, it’s brutal because she’s been stood up. On the other hand, it’s Edward’s first relatively cruel act to Susan. He had the confidence and the backbone to stand her up. He wasn’t weak. As petty of an action as that is, it’s a strong action for Edward to take and something that Edward 20 years ago would have never done. Add this in with him having written a novel Susan found impressive…and it seems like Edward has moved on to a new chapter. One where he doesn’t need her. The assumption here is that Susan can forgive herself, because even though she hurt Edward, she didn’t destroy him. He’s alive. He’s writing. He’s confident enough to stand her up. That’s enough for Susan to find closure in what happened between them. No longer worried about her past, Susan has the potential to focus on improving her present.
I think most of us can relate to that on some level. Forgiveness and closure, together, can be great. But getting forgiveness doesn’t always mean you get closure, and getting closure doesn’t always mean getting forgiveness.
Update 2: Romantic Interest?
After my first update, Barkley Obar commented about Susan removing her wedding ring and still dressing up for her dinner with Edward. Barkley saw these as signs of romantic interest, not just in forgiveness. I agree with that.
In the first Update, I had meant to show there’s an argument to be made for reading the end as Susan dealing with forgiveness and guilt. Instead, it seems more like I changed my stance entirely. Not the case. I think the truth is somewhere between my initial woo-and-doom scenario and the guilt-forgiveness situation.
I think if Edward had shown up and been his charming self, told Susan he still loves her, asked her to leave with him—she would have. I think she did have expectations that something could happen between them. But reality dashed that hope. Edward is done with her. His “you can’t get it back again” line proved prophetic. Yes, Susan would be saddened by this and hurt by this, however I no longer see her as totally doomed. I think she does have a better sense of closure, and while Edward hasn’t forgiven her, the novel puts to rest what had transpired between them. I think she probably does feel a weight off her shoulders. With her wedding ring removed, we could extrapolate she’ll leave Hutton and draw on some inner strength she’s denied herself because of her guilt? Or she could still be doomed. I’m okay with the vagueness because I think that’s part of interacting with art—we supply some of the meaning. Depending on your own life, you could read the end as hopeful. You could read the end as tragic. You could think Edward killed himself and Susan will do the same. The important thing at this point isn’t the right answer. It’s your answer. And the fact that the end could mean something new and important to you every year of your life. That’s pretty cool.
With no offense intended, I’m not sure the two updates do much. It really seems like you had an intelligent analysis, then in your zeal to “listen to all women” or whatever, completely backtracked and took the opposite stance. Then wanted to justify that wasn’t the case in a further update. I would stay stick to your guns and your initial instinct. The second where it’s “redeeming” for her just because someone in the comment suggested it, rings false.
Appreciate the thought, Brian! I know what you mean, but it wasn’t just because my friend said that and I was trying to “listen to all women.” It’s also because the director himself, Tom Ford, said he thought Amy Adams had hope at the end rather than being totally devastated. So it was worth considering. And I do get where they’re coming from. Susan may not get to run back to Edward in the aftermath of her marriage conclusively falling apart, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And because she knows Edward’s worked through his feelings, maybe she can too. It can feel like a chapter of her life has concluded. Meaning there’s new opportunity ahead.
With that said, I do see why. you’d say it rings false. Even though I see how that can be the case for Susan and think it’s worth exploring. The movie is just so bleak that I don’t think Ford necessarily conveys the hope and change for Susan in a pointed enough way to say that’s what he was going for. Especially when he focuses so much on her negative emotions. There’s an argument he’s just being subtle about it, but there’s also an argument that such a thing as too much subtly exists.
Something I picked up on while watching this movie that no one wants to talk about but I will say it. Edward writes his book to pour out the pain he felt when Susan crushed his heart by giving up on their love, but also when she kills their unborn child. This is parallel to Tony’s beloved daughter being murdered. Edward would have delighted in caring for the child he created with Susan; she apparently knew this and tried to hide the abortion from him, but that fact he saw her leaving the clinic and he was probably there because he being the loving man he is; he had probably tried to save his child from the fate of death brought on by Susan, but she went through with it anyways. This felt like murder of his child to Edward and it agonized him apparently for many years that he writes the same way Tony felt at the seeing his child murdered along with his wife. I make no apologies for is clearly being shown in this film and I am pointing it out. Murder is murder.
Hi,Chris
great Article. Love the analysis but have you ever wondered about adding even an extra layer to the story? Please watch again but this time imagining that Edward never existed and Susan wrote the book and has a hard time remembering due to her insomnia. There are many clues for it. All the inspirations for the book was around her and not Edward. After all her problem with sleeping was not recent. Hutton has a hard time remembering Edward. He answers “Edward who?” Then we are face with the doubt that maybe he doesn’t care about the wife. The co-worker is also surprised and says: “I didn’t know you were married” then again we doubt cause she may be a new hire. I don’t think writer would do this on coincidence. She does not remember purchasing the “REVENGE” painting and her taste in art is violent. But never really created or so she does not remember due to her insomnia and her slow separation from reality. The daughter, the mother issues symbolized as weakness and fear of exposing your true art her shaky grasp on her memories, the paintings, the fictional tony that she remembers as her ex husband etc, and finally the pain of not being brave enough to creat for herself after 20 years leads her to create an alter ego that would do it for her and finally break free. There was never any Edward but only she created him and all the Traumas in her exhausted brain ‘which is a common sign amongst insomniac patients’ only to realize at the end that in fact there was never really an Edward and she wrote the book. So yeah a whole fight club situation
I don’t agree with the idea that Edward standing up Susan was some sort of revenge. the only way it could be that way is if Edward knew everything Susan was going through with her life, marital situation, etc. …which he could not have known because they were not staying in touch. for all edward knew, she could have been having a great life, so how would standing her up be some kind of brutal revenge? I think the answer is he never stood her up. the text setting up the date was imaginary. also imaginary: the real life daughter. the film transfers from the naked back side of the fictional dead daughter to the the (dead by abortion) backside of the “real” daughter. I think the phone call to the daughter was imaginary and the scenes symbolic of a daughter “taken away” from edward (and susan), with Susan’s 2nd husband having a hand in taking away both susan and a potential real life daughter from Edward.
I do not recall seeing any family photos of the family with the daughter or any mention of the daughter anywhere else in the film.
I think Susan’s imagination plays a part in this movie. I think midway through the movie she imagines a chance meeting in NYC that results in dinner together and a nice conversation. I also believe that the text from Edward at the end of the movie was imaginary and that Susan was wishing for a real dinner date as she had imagined earlier in the movie. she was not happy or excited while putting on the green dress /looking into the mirror. I think she started to confuse imagination/wishful thinking with reality. I also think the call to her daughter was imaginary. I don’t think she had a daughter (although she may have lost one with her abortion). a real daughter is not mentioned anywhere else in the movie.
Any thoughts about all the use of bright red?
I just got done watching the film and I’m reading a bunch of articles to get peoples take and I loved reading this because of the updates. Like you said at the end, the vagueness of the ending of the movie allows for interpretation as an individual. You can see that in the article itself. At first you saw revenge, and then closure, and then a mixture of possibilities and I truly think that symbolizes how life can be. We grow and change and create ourselves as we go through life. Our view of the world and how we see it changes and I think that’s beautiful.
Chris, I can’t possibly read all the comments here so I imagine it’s already been covered, but I wanted to chime in with my own interpretation of Ford’s claim that “the film’s ending signified change and hope for Susan.” As you’ve said, this film is about what humanizes and dehumanizes us, and the humanizing factors are the struggles of Tony, or Edward and Susan in New York. For me, Edward standing Susan up restored her humanity by taking her out of the mausoleum she’s built for herself (her home and the gallery) into a world in which she is emotional and thus human. She accepted the treatment she received from her husband and her daughter without complaint, so Susan’s dinner is her first act of rebellion; she is leaving the prison constructed by her wealth and her lifestyle to join Edward’s world of art, emotion and beauty.
I like that! It definitely feels like some walls are coming down for Susan.
Hey Chris…I’m late to the party, but have to bring up something I didn’t see discussed. I read your first analysis and your updates, and most of the comments. The movie opened with Susan’s gallery opening…the film opened…on the video of a very overweight woman wamping…and she morphed through even more overweight shapes…and I admit I was fascinated, as a woman now aging (61) and coming to terms with the fact that, though I was a beauty in my youth and still sought after in a cougar sort of way until about five years ago, that eventually gravity wins, even when the more slender female body. Also that for many of us, the weight creeps on, even if we were slender most of our lives. I couldn’t help but see Susan consciously juxtaposing herself with the female forms in her exhibit…the way she would look at herself in the mirror, run her hands along her face, her neck, look into her own eyes. She knew she, too, was getting older. Gravity was knocking on her doo, too. Back at the exhibit, the video of the woman, the woman who was many women…maybe all women?… still vital enough to vamp, albeit with a lot of flesh flying around, seemed to meet her end on the still life bodies posed on low pedestals. I couldn’t help but hear Susan’s biological clock ticking throughout the movie, adding to your own first conclusion that the ending mean Susan was, uh, screwed, and not in the right way. I like that people saw hope in it, like the idea that Edward had proved himself, if not entirely free of her, depending on your take, at least able to stand on his own, relieving her of guilt if she would take the gift. Or, as you saw it, a vengeful standing up. One watcher commented you couldn’t know Edward’s mind, because he hadn’t had contact with Susan in so long, but I think it’s clear in the movie that Edward knows exactly what life Susan is living. It really seemed to me a clear “see, you left me when I was still budding talent, but look what I went and did without you…and by the way, this is how you hurt me.” Also I’m glad people brought up the parallel between Tony’s daughter being taken from him and the abortion. I, too, drew the same parallel, which you said you forgot to mention because it was so obvious. Symbolism, such a funny thing! Not obvious to all. But I wonder what you think about the opening exhibit, and how it ties in. I just know how I feel as a woman watching her bloom go off. Take vitamins, eat power drinks…it still catches up with you. And Susan knows it.
Hey Laurie! Not late at all! I appreciate the perspective. I did write an article about the opening. Go ahead and Click Here
It’s been so long since I wrote that article that I don’t quite remember what I said in it. But I think I came to a similar conclusion to you, that it’s appropriate to Susan. Whether a reflection of how she views herself vs a reflection of how she thinks she’ll be. It’s definitely supposed to prime us for art vs reality, how art applies to life, etc.
Laurie, I was very moved by your honest words about aging. I have been grappling with this subject and would love to ask you some questions if you’d be open to it. Just for my own learning. Let me know if I can give you my email. Thank you.
I haven’t read through all of the comments (because there are quite a few) but I wanted to say that I felt that Edward’s not showing up was the exact same change of power that Tony experienced with the last killer in his novel. He had Susan’s mother, Hutton and Susan herself as the people who took away his wife and his child (when Susan had an abortion without telling him) and his final blow as Edward came when he was able to take back this power that Susan had held over him for so long and the best way of showing her (and the audience) this was to have him not need to be there when she called. I believe he went. I believe he saw her sit there alone and I believe he walked away feeling empowered like never before in his life. We watched her unravel throughout, the money problems, the loss of composure to the outside world (when she breaks the phone by dropping it bc Edward had clearly gotten into her head with his novel) and the sudden onset of compassion and needing to support an artist she hired (bc she didn’t stand by and support Edward when she had made a commitment to before) all of these things to me show almost a role reversal between Susan and Edward. My grandmother used to always tell me, “the person who cares the least in any relationship holds the power.” There is no uncertainty about where the power lies in Susan and Edwards relationship now. But then I’m just a single mom who watches too many movies so what do I know lol
Haha, watching too many is all the experience you need to talk about movies! And I think you hit the nail on the head.
Great analysis.
Thanks!
To me, the ending isn’t Edward sticking it to Susan. Just like in his novel, the “revenge” he got left no satisfaction so he carelessly killed himself. His life was damaged beyond repair.
Standing Susan up was also a self-inflicted gun shot because either way… meeting her or not would bring no satisfaction or lasting happiness. The relationship was damaged beyond repair.
Definitely damaged beyond repair. And yeah, I’m definitely open to that interpretation for Edward. He’s always going to carry what happened with him. I like to think the novel leads to some catharsis. But I can see it being impossible as well.
I walked away from this film tonight having taken away a message about pain, revenge and, most importantly, decisions we regret and how we process them.
Edward’s regret is spelt out for us in his novel. While I don’t see evidence that Edward self-identifies as weak (his character as portrayed through Susan’s flashbacks has conviction and appears grounded in his life choices), it’s Susan’s perception of his character as weak that matters – to both him and the storyline. His regret is being perceived as weak and not being able to change that perception – consequently, losing the love of his life (and unborn child).
When asked about Lou’s death seconds after he is shot, Edward’s self-symbolic character Tony clarifies that while the revenge is satisfying and even desired, what he really wishes is that he could go back in time and do things differently. Revenge doesn’t change the result and it’s the result that truly torments him.
In the subsequent scene, Tony kills Ray as Ray states his perception of Tony as a weak man. Ray symbolizes the perception of weakness Edward has battled with, and likely blamed for a life gone askew. It’s important to note that while Tony does kill this symbol of perception, it is not unscathed. Tony is left wounded, unable to see his way (literally), and after a last cry for help – a bullet to the sky –accidentally takes his own life. Edward wrote a storyline where by killing his perceived weakness, he kills himself.
There is a possibility here that Edward, in his years of introspection after his divorce, came to realize that loathing and blaming that part of him that Susan perceived as weak, only hurts himself. Blaming, or omitting, those traits not only doesn’t change what happened, it doesn’t create a better future either. Unlike Tony, he’s better off to embrace these qualities – his vulnerability, romanticism, and faith in his sacrifices to live an authentic life – and be himself. By doing so, he chooses life and, consequently, finally has the content to write his novel.
When Edward sends his novel to Susan it comes with a subtle invitation that sounds more like a social grace, “It would be good to see you after so long,” he also states that, in the end, she gave him the inspiration he needed to write from the heart. Of course, Susan never encouraged Edward to write from the heart, she did so by doing the opposite – rejecting the fundamental part of him that would lead to such writing and consequently, pushing Edward to find it on his own. In turn, it becomes the subject of his next novel.
I see why Tom Ford says the end provides a new beginning for Susan. She can better understand the past and, in turn, face her present. Having an opportunity to feel alive again – like the lovers she views in the corner of the lobby of the restaurant – creates the contrast needed to see her current life for what it is, lifeless. That said, through a painful illustration of unrequited enthusiasm, we understand very quickly that Susan will not be repenting the decades of introspection and work Edward has done with a week of novel reading and a brief email.
In real life, we often meet with exes with trepidation, sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we can handle a casual encounter only to decide, last minute, that it’s best not to resurface old emotions. Perhaps Edward felt the same. We are given no clues that his character would act out of spite or resentment. Just as with his novel, he may have realized that while having sent Susan the book to read, and provoking a level of understanding in her, brings a level of satisfaction, it still doesn’t change the past.
I get the impression that both characters have grown, come to an understanding of their own and each others’ experiences, and are ready to start anew.
Man, it’s comments like yours and a few others that really make writing these pieces so fulfilling. The insight, the thoughtfulness. Very well said. And yeah, the weakness part is a huge theme/motif and pretty much the cornerstone to Edward’s character here. It’s not something I found enough space to discuss, but it’s really important to the overall themes of the film.
Did you address the abortion? I will go back and read the other comments, but, found that strange. I suppose Edward did not know about the pregnancy or did he?
I didn’t get into too much detail about it. Edward did not know, I’m pretty sure. If my timeline is right, Susan had already met Hutton and realized she wanted to break up with Edward. He was just following her trying to figure out what was going on since she was pulling away from him. I’m pretty sure when she’s in the car afterwards she says something to Hutton that makes it clear Edward had no idea. But then there he is.
Great insight. I knew this was a movie I would probably need to watch again after noticing some things throughout the movie. I had first realized there’s symbolism in this movie when she looked at the bird outside, dying. It made me realize this movie has deeper meaning. I do really think taking the ring off the finger was a huge deal, and the fact at dinner she was rubbing that finger. I think it was about moving on – for the both of them. If that was me at the dinner table, that would be enough closure for me.
Thanks for the read!