A beautiful, smart woman with a seemingly perfect life hides her shame from the world.

First it was Nicole Kidman as Celeste in Liane Moriarty’s TV series Big Little Lies. Now it’s Blake Lively as Lily Bloom in the film of Colleen Hoover’s 2016 runaway bestseller It Ends with Us.

The US state of Maine is stunning as the dappled light filters through the giant oaks and gives everything a golden touch. 

This was Lily’s childhood home and she is back there following the death of her father. She has to pull together a eulogy for the funeral and her mother, Jenny (Amy Morton), suggests she write down five happy memories to share. The list stays empty.

Grown-up Lily is living in Boston and about to fulfil her dream of opening a florist shop called, what else, Lily Bloom’s.

She buys an old place and redecorates with the help of her new friend and fun-loving sidekick, Allysa (Jenny Slate). Together they transform the cluttered space into a flower shop fit for a witch’s coven with artichokes standing in for roses and an undercurrent of lilac bohemia.

Lily finds something sad about cut flowers waiting to die and wants to honour that in her art.

Also, love is in the air. On the night she returned to Boston from the funeral, Lily met dark and brooding Ryle (Justin Baldoni, who also directs), who exploded onto the scene by kicking a chair.

They are instantly attracted and share truths only strangers can. She tells him about her first love, Atlas, who was living in a derelict house to get away from violence at home.

Ryle is a neurosurgeon having a bad day after losing a young boy who was accidentally shot by his brother. It would ruin the other boy’s life as well, he tells her.

They part but meet again. Ryle is the brother of Allysa, who tries to warn Lily off him, but they are smitten.

Romantic tropes abound and this is a film in which love lies in keepsakes – a carved wooden heart, a tattoo that signals love not quite forgotten.

Romantic tropes abound, but a dark reality is just beneath the surface. Photo: Sony Pictures

Despite the euphoric attraction she feels for Ryle, Lily wonders: Is she happy? Is he too good to be true? The power balance is shifting and Lily is trying harder to please.

While this is unfolding, timeframes switch back and forth and we follow young Lily (Isabela Ferrer) falling for Atlas (Alex Neustaedter), who is smart and loyal and who she helps get back on his feet.

Atlas leaves and joins the marines, but when Ryle and grown-up Lily try a buzzy new Boston restaurant, Atlas (Brandon Sklenar) is there; the restaurant is his and, clearly, Lily has not been forgotten.

Lively comes with her own inner glow and amazing wardrobe – there was a discernible gasp at the dominatrix metal stilettos she wears to bring Ryle to heel.

Everyone is well-off and the shop flourishes without effort, but the story unfolds with appealing charm and a soundtrack that includes Birdy for young Lily and Lucinda Williams when she is older.

The book was a page-turner with a legion of ardent fans and it is no spoiler to say this celebrates female empowerment in the face of domestic violence.

It is an engaging emotional ride with a strong “will she or won’t she” tension. Yet it feels sometimes unseemly to be putting such a glamorous face on an ugly social problem.

The film has one foot in The Notebook camp, another somewhere darker.

It Ends with Us is on solid ground in its message that domestic violence can happen to anyone, but hits trouble by skirting dangerously close to trivialising the consequences.

Lily is privileged, white and beautiful, and her first love is in town. It makes her decision much easier.

It Ends with Us is in cinemas now.

The article first appeared in InReview. Read the original here.