The Existential Abyss: How It Ends Redefines Horror Through Gen Z’s Existential Crisis
There’s a moment in the trailer for It Ends where a character screams, “This isn’t a loop—it’s a trap!” That line, more than any other, encapsulates why this film feels like a seismic shift in horror storytelling. Sure, we’ve all seen time-loop narratives before—from Groundhog Day to Happy Death Day—but what Alexander Ullom’s debut does is far more unsettling. It weaponizes the very concept of existential dread, strips it of its philosophical abstraction, and slaps a Gen Z face onto it. And honestly? It’s about time.
Time Loops Aren’t Just for Redemption Arcs Anymore
Let’s address the elephant in the room: time-loop movies usually hinge on personal growth. The protagonist learns, evolves, and breaks free—think Bill Murray’s journey from cynic to humanist in Groundhog Day. But It Ends rejects that framework entirely. The characters aren’t stuck because they’re flawed; they’re stuck because the universe is a cruel, indifferent machine. When I watched the trailer, I couldn’t stop fixating on the image of those friends staring into the forest’s endless void. It’s not purgatory—it’s purgatory without the hope of absolution. Personally, I think this is a genius subversion. Why? Because Gen Z doesn’t buy into the myth of self-improvement as salvation. Climate collapse, economic precarity, political chaos—their existential crises aren’t fixable. It Ends gets that.
Liminal Horror: When the Internet’s Weirdest Corner Becomes a Movie
Now, let’s talk about liminal horror. If you’ve spent any time on niche Reddit threads or TikTok rabbit holes, you know the aesthetic: flickering hallways, uncanny soundscapes, spaces that feel “off.” Films like Backrooms and Skinamarink have weaponized this digital folklore, but It Ends does something bolder. It merges the genre’s eerie visuals with a narrative that’s less about jump scares and more about psychological unraveling. What many people don’t realize is that liminal horror thrives on ambiguity. The moment you explain the monster, the spell breaks. Ullom seems to understand this instinctively. By refusing to clarify whether the forest is supernatural, alien, or just a cosmic prank, he traps both characters and viewers in the same existential limbo. A detail that fascinates me? The attackers in the woods aren’t just ghouls—they’re echoes. Faceless, relentless, and eerily familiar. Like staring into a distorted mirror.
Existentialism Without the Pretension: Beckett Meets TikTok
Here’s where the film’s brilliance crystallizes. Ullom channels Sartre and Beckett but drowns their ideas in a neon-drenched, smartphone-obsessed aesthetic. The characters in It Ends aren’t aging intellectuals pondering their regrets like in No Exit. They’re recent grads, thrust into a nightmare they didn’t ask for, scrambling to apply logic to a situation that defies it. This raises a deeper question: How do you process existential despair when you’ve never been allowed to feel secure in the first place? Gen Z’s trauma isn’t rooted in personal failure; it’s systemic. And yet, the film’s protagonists argue, panic, and cling to each other—just like real people would. What I find especially compelling is how the film uses dialogue-heavy scenes to contrast with its horror elements. It’s like a stage play where the fourth wall is the forest’s edge, and the audience is trapped onstage.
Why This Film Will Haunt More Than Just Horror Fans
Let’s speculate for a moment. It Ends could become a cultural touchstone, not just a cult horror flick. Why? Because it’s accidentally a perfect metaphor for our era. That endless road? It’s student debt. The faceless attackers? Late-stage capitalism. The inability to escape? Well, take your pick: climate doom, social media loops, or the sheer weight of inherited societal rot. If you take a step back and think about it, the film’s horror isn’t in the supernatural—it’s in the familiarity. This isn’t a haunted forest; it’s a therapy session gone apocalyptic.
Final Verdict: Existential Dread Has Never Felt This Immediate
I haven’t even mentioned the film’s release date—August 2026—because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that It Ends feels inevitable. Horror is evolving, and its new frontier isn’t about ghosts or slashers. It’s about the terror of realizing you’re a character in a story you never agreed to star in. From my perspective, Ullom hasn’t just made a movie; he’s held up a cracked mirror to a generation raised on irony and inured to hope. And honestly? The reflection is horrifying.
So, when you watch that trailer again, don’t just look for scares. Listen for the silence between the screams. That’s where the real horror lives.
