I’d Forgotten

About the Netflix series, essentially a movie, The End of the Fucking World. I loved it. Until the ending. Then the wife refused to watch it after hearing me yell at the screen and be that upset.

My reaction to the ending aside, it was brilliantly done.

When I briefly surfed Netflix a while ago, I was reminded of it and realized it’s sort of like a somewhat older, much more twisted Melody taken to extremes. Not to mention that it essentially starts with them running off together. However twisted his initial motivation seems to be, it’s a poignant love story. But then, so is Romeo and Juliet, and that hardly ended well.

I wonder if I could bring myself to watch it again, just to contrast them with it fresh in my mind.

There was talk of a second one, when it was so well received. I couldn’t help wondering how they’d pull that off. It would have to mean the ending we thought we got wasn’t the ending we actually got, and disaster was somehow averted. It might also have to be an entirely different thing, since it would have to go in the direction of an apparent happier ending from the starting point of apparent tragedy and presumed consequences.

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