Jules’ Journal: The End We Start From: Symbolism, Survival & Enduring Motherhood Amid Rising Tides
Section Editor Juliette Allen deconstructs Mahalia Belo’s Debut Film; The End We Start From
Symbols are omnipresent in society and even more so in films, in fact symbols are said to be the secret language of storytelling. It’s no secret however that filmmakers rely on incorporating symbolism in their work in order to visually convey complex emotions and deeper themes, through bypassing exposition to uncover the story and the audience's imagination. When we as an audience are able to reflect on these recurring symbols that transcend genres and contexts, we unveil deeper narrative layers and are able to appreciate the storytelling within. Of course, notable symbols that have been discussed in popular culture include examples like the oh so precious ring in Lord Of The Rings, the lone white feather in Forest Gump or indeed the glowing green light across the bay in Great Gatsby (Iykyk). When deciding on what film to discuss in this issue for Jules’ Journal, I felt drawn to one particular film I felt weaved symbolism into the story effortlessly. For me this was undoubtedly The End We Start From (2023) directed by Mahalia Belo.
Now before I delve into why I believe this film is a standout, it’s important to note this film isn’t exactly a fan favourite with film critics. In fact, most reviews aren’t at all positive, but naturally critics can be critical. The film was further impacted by its misconstrued plotline that was assumed to be an action packed disaster blockbuster, which couldn’t be further than the truth. Rather, it depicts a great flood that is known to audiences, but not often shown. So if you're a disaster film junkie that's looking for chaos and destruction, The End We Start From is not for you. Now even I can admit as a disaster movie consumer, when I opened the film in Apple TV, I too thought it would follow a typical disaster plotline. But I was pleasantly surprised to discover a deeply poignant narrative, one of those films where you need to sit for a while afterwards in order to reflect and let the story seep in to fully understand and appreciate it.
Now that’s out of the way, let me tell you why this film is particularly resonant. Indeed “what separates this film from others in the genre is a fresh feminist perspective driven by women both in front and behind the camera. The climate catastrophe remains an undercurrent throughout the film, it is the woman’s arduous plight, protecting her son in an unpredictable world, that keeps viewers engaged” [1]. What the film does really successfully is how it aligns with the narrative in the novella it’s adapted from with the same name by Megan Hunter. The short novel is well regarded with Hunter’s allegorical exploration of survival intertwining symbolic quotes and emotive stanzas. The story is presented through the lens of ‘Mother’–all the main character is credited as–and how she navigates having a newborn during a national emergency where the great flood plunges her home in London and the greater area underwater. Due to the novellas popular reception, it was made into the aforementioned major motion picture from first-time director Mahalia Belo. With the fabulous casting of Jodie Comer as the lead who provides an authentic performance adapting the character’s vulnerability at first and then develops this into a ruthlessness needed for survival. Other known actors including the fleeting yet impactful performance from Benedict Cumberbatch allowed for a compelling addition.
Along with having successful actors and a team of powerful women as a part of this film, where it thrives even more is through its rich symbolism that remains a constant throughout the movie. Indeed, there are quite a few symbolic elements that can be deconstructed, but most pertinent is undoubtedly water. Now, you may be thinking, well duh—it’s a film about a flood, but it’s more than that. Water is in fact part of a dual symbolism that encompasses notions of rebirth and renewal. We see this play out in the opening scene where Mother (Jodie Comer) readies a bath as a rainstorm rages outside her London townhouse. It’s soon after that she starts going into labor, where we then see water begin to seep in and flood her home. She later gets to the hospital and safely delivers the baby. As if happening simultaneously, the film cuts from the hospital to the raging flood waters crashing through the windows of her home. ‘The symbolic motifs of water, the birth, and rebirth that materialize throughout’ [2]. ‘The outside storm itself is a superb metaphor for the experience of having children. They crash into your life, painfully and messily, and things are never quite the same’[3].
Furthermore, we the audience are privy to a constant soundscape of water. “The flood itself is never specified, only obliquely referred to as ‘all of this’. This effectively undermines the crisis, and cleverly repositions the narrative to focus on the challenges of motherhood instead” [4]. In the beginning, Mother has the safety of her boyfriend ‘R’ and his parents at their house, but things continue to grow worse and worse. Eventually, it’s just Mother and her baby ‘Zeb’ living in a shelter. Not long after however, this shelter is no longer an option. From here on the film almost becomes that of a road movie in that it follows Mother’s Journey to safety, encountering many obstacles along the way where Mother must do whatever it takes to protect her child. “Jodie Comer sells this aspect of the narrative entirely, delivering a strong performance that gets across the physicality of her gruelling ordeal” [5].
All the while, water remains resonant. Eventually, Mother reaches the coast where she’s told of a commune on an island that will help. A boat comes once a day and it seems as though Mother waits forever, longingly looking at the ocean and willing for a sign of life, eventually one comes along and they are more or less ‘saved’. After some time passes, Mother decides she can’t stay at the commune any more and with the news that things are getting better in London, she believes that it’s time to go home. Mother’s time at the commune mainly depicts her constantly being drawn back to the foreshore, it’s only after she swims in the waves and submerges into the deep that her mind is truly made up. What Mother seeks is for a fresh start in the place she called home, and hopefully be reunited with R should he still be alive. In this sense, water highlights the cyclical nature of life and the tenacity of the human spirit.
Thus the journey home commences. It’s not without its challenges, but all the while Mother is enduring and her son galvanises her to persevere. It’s only when Mother returns to London nearing the end of the film that we actually see the level of destruction to the city itself when she is escorted by boat to her home, Zeb clasped tightly in her arms as she looks out to the top of London rooftops peaking out from the water. Eventually city streets start to emerge in the distance; what's left is a wasteland of waterlogged houses overrun by mud and debris. Mother’s London townhouse is damaged but still standing. It’s then that Mother nestles Zeb in a blanket on the floor and gets to work on rebuilding. Just as the floodwaters bring destruction, they also pave the way for new beginnings, washing away the old to make room and start anew.
Mother is cleaning the home when a weathered R walks in. The pair look at each other in disbelief and R sees his son now as a toddler rather than a newborn. It’s then that the screen fades to black. In the final scene, there is no dialogue, nor does there need to be. Belo utilises this for most of the film, allowing for the silence to speak for itself making it a raw exploration where a lot of it allows the audience to subvert their own interpretations. ‘Belo’s vision marks a welcome break from other disaster and crisis-driven films. Intense imagery, back-stabbing narratives, and seat-gripping moments are swapped for a more grounded and stripped-back hypothesis of how humans would react in an apocalyptic situation. What’s more, it felt grimly tangible’ [6]. Belo shaped the narrative to be a testament to the strength of women [7].
by Juliette Allen
References
[1] Friar, J. (2024). ‘The End We Start From’ Review. Fort Worth Report.
[2] Berg, J. (2024). The End We Start From. Film-Forward.
[3], [5] Dillon, S. (2024). Film Review — The End We Start From. Medium <https://medium.com/simon-dillon-cinema/film-review-the-end-we-start-from>
[4], [6], [7] Baynes, A. (2024). The End We Start From Review. The Mancunion.
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