Movies

Alexander Ullom’s ‘It Ends’ makes a road with no exit the entire horror

Camille Lefèvre

A car turns off a familiar road and cannot turn back. The two lanes ahead simply continue, past any town, past any dawn, past any reason to expect an end, and the four people inside slowly understand that the road is taking them nowhere because there is nowhere left for it to go. That is the whole of the premise Alexander Ullom sets running in his first feature, and it proves to be enough. ‘It Ends’ belongs to a small, stubborn tradition of films that trap their characters in a space they cannot argue with, and it treats the trap as a formal problem before a supernatural one.

What lifts the conceit above a gimmick is that Ullom, who wrote, cut and directed the film himself, has understood something about the medium his premise depends on. A road with no end is, in the grammar of cinema, an edit that refuses to happen, the shot that will not cut away to relief. Horror here is not a creature in the trees, though creatures are out there. It is duration itself, the dread of a scene that will not release you. The film asks how long a viewer can sit inside sheer continuation, and it makes that question its engine.

YouTube video

The four graduates are played by unknowns, Phinehas Yoon, Akira Jackson, Noah Toth and Mitchell Cole, and the anonymity is a choice rather than a limitation. A film about people erased into a landscape gains nothing from a familiar face; it needs bodies that could belong to anyone, pressed together in a Jeep until proximity becomes its own weather. Yoon’s James and Jackson’s Day hold the register the film lives in, the slow conversion of panic into procedure, as the group learns to ration a sleep it no longer needs and to mark a distance that means nothing. The performances are asked to enact adaptation, which is harder to play than fear.

Ullom arrives without a body of work to be read against, so the film reads him through the company it keeps. The endless-road horror descends from a lineage that passes through the purgatorial chamber piece, the guests who cannot leave the room, the bourgeois stranded forever in a weekend traffic jam, and it arrives in the present folklore of liminal spaces, the corridors and empty lots that loop because the mind expects an exit and is refused one. What separates ‘It Ends’ from a mood board of that imagery is its patience. It declines to cut to explanation. It stays on the road, and it trusts the staying.

There is a deeper inversion at work. The road movie is cinema’s great form of freedom, the open highway as a promise of becoming someone else by the time you arrive. ‘It Ends’ keeps the iconography and removes the arrival, and in doing so it turns the genre’s founding image inside out. The car, that American emblem of escape, becomes the cell; the horizon, which the road film offers as hope, becomes the sentence. The film knows it is desecrating a myth, and its dread is sharpened by the theft.

The film’s cosmology is deliberately withheld. No oracle waits in the back seat to explain the physics, no map resolves into meaning. The stragglers who surface at the edge of the headlights are less antagonists than evidence, proof that others took this turn and are still taking it. Ullom’s wager is that a horror of pure continuation can hold an audience without the release of a reveal, that the not-knowing is the terror and not merely the setup for one. It is the wager the best weird fiction has always made, and the one most genre cinema loses its nerve before honoring.

Whether the wager pays across a feature is the film’s live risk. A single idea sustained at length can tip from hypnosis into the very monotony it depicts, and a premise that refuses to explain itself can read, on a colder viewing, as a premise that cannot. Without stars to carry the lulls, the unraveling must earn each of its stages, and a road that all looks the same is a demanding thing to shoot without the frame beginning to repeat as well. The film’s confidence is also its exposure. There is no second concept to reach for when the first one tires.

Phinehas Yoon in the horror film It Ends (2026)
The stranded graduates beside their SUV in It Ends (2026)

That the film found a distributor at all is part of its interest. NEON, the house that has spent recent seasons turning festival curiosities into theatrical events, took worldwide rights after the premiere and is opening a micro-scale, unknown-cast conceit in cinemas rather than sliding it onto a platform. It is a small bet on the proposition that a strong idea, cleanly executed, still belongs on a large screen, the kind of bet the American independent horror scene has lately been rewarded for making.

‘It Ends’ premiered at South by Southwest and travelled the genre-festival circuit, from Fantasia to Sitges, arriving with a near-unanimous critical welcome. Ullom directs, writes and edits; Carrie Carusone and Evan Barber produce; Evan Draper and Jazleana Jones share the cinematography; Matthew Robert Cooper composed the score. It runs a lean 89 minutes. NEON opens the film in Los Angeles and New York on August 21, 2026, and widens the release on August 28.

Cast

Tags: , , , , ,

Discussion

There are 0 comments.