Few film endings are discussed with as much fascination as Todd Haynes’s Carol, which leaves audiences suspended between heartbreak and hope.
After intense legal battles and personal reckonings, Carol’s decision not to fight for full custody of her daughter in exchange for honesty about her identity shocks viewers who expect a straightforward happy ending.
Cate Blanchett’s performance amplifies this choice: Carol refuses to lie about loving Therese or about who she is, even though the social climate of 1950s New York is punishing.
Giving up her daughter, Rindy, for honest supervised visits rather than winning through deception, Carol issues a quiet but radical challenge to the era’s expectations.
This moment resists the typical victory arc. Carol’s happiness comes at a real price. Critics highlight how this act forces the audience to confront the true cost of authenticity for LGBTQ people in conservative times. Her refusal to negotiate her identity or beg for crumbs from her ex-husband forces a bold negotiation of self-worth.
Sources like ScreenRant and BuzzFeed point out that Carol’s decision emerges only after a string of betrayals and humiliations, including her being spied upon by a private investigator on the orders of her estranged husband, Harge.
These plot developments root the finale firmly in gritty reality rather than melodrama, foregrounding the weight of Carol’s internal conflict between motherhood and personal truth.
Meanwhile, Therese, after feeling abandoned and processing her own pain, initially rebuffs Carol’s invitation to start over. The film cleverly resists applying a neat resolution or conventional reunion, underlining the story’s commitment to real emotional stakes instead of fantasy fulfillment.
Defiance in Small Gestures: How Quiet Rebellion Shapes Carol and Therese’s Future
Instead of grand speeches, Carol’s ending unfolds through the nuanced, small gestures that have marked the romance throughout. When Therese, surrounded by new friends at a party, cannot connect with anyone else the way she did with Carol, she realizes what truly matters to her.
This understated sequence invites viewers to consider the ordinary loneliness and longing that follow acts of bravery.
What comes next is quietly transformative. Therese’s decision to attend the dinner Carol had proposed signals her readiness to trust Carol again, not because obstacles have disappeared but because both women have grown.
Carol’s willingness to accept loss for the sake of honesty, sacrificing even her relationship with Rindy, becomes the foundation for a more equal connection.
Critics have described the film’s conclusion as both “hopeful” and “subversive” because it grants its heroines a second chance at love without asking them to apologize or diminish themselves to fit in.
Carol (Credit: Netflix)
This ending stands out in LGBTQ cinema because it suggests that authenticity and tenderness are possible amidst loss. It does not erase the pain of discrimination but asserts, as many reviews have said, that the choice to live truthfully may be its own reward, even if accompanied by heartbreak.
As highlighted in reviews on BuzzFeed and Flavorwire, the story’s refusal to tidy up every loose end actually honors the audience’s intelligence and the complexity of the source material (Patricia Highsmith’s novel, The Price of Salt).
Beyond The Screen: Carol’s Legacy and The Changing Storylines of LGBTQ Romance
The lasting impact of Carol comes not just from its beautiful visuals or star performances, but from the space it makes for nuanced endings in queer filmmaking.
Traditionally, queer romances onscreen have ended in tragedy, secrecy, or self-denial. By contrast, Carol and Therese’s story ends with both loss and possibility: they do not get everything, but they do not surrender either.
This place of ambiguity has had ripple effects far beyond the film’s own release. Reviews on platforms like RogerEbert.com and The Guardian credit Carol with updating how mainstream stories about same-sex love are told, inviting future films to embrace complexity, sacrifice, and hard-won hope rather than fantasy resolutions.
By refusing both doom and unearned bliss, the ending offers a more human template for romantic stories and acknowledges the everyday compromises real couples face.
New generations of viewers continue to debate whether Carol and Therese will ultimately build a future together, but most agree that the ending’s power lies in its honesty.
It offers a rare depiction of queer love built on autonomy, respect, and tough choices, reshaping what “happy” might mean when honesty gets prioritized above comfort or approval.
The film unfolds on the small Italian island of Pantelleria, where Marianne Lane, a famous rock singer recovering from throat surgery, enjoys a quiet holiday with her filmmaker boyfriend, Paul De Smedt.
Their intimacy is initially undisturbed until the intrusion of Marianne’s former lover, Harry Hawkes, and his daughter, Penelope, sparks a chain of events fueled by jealousy, betrayal, and suppressed desires.
Tensions rise quickly as Harry revives old flames with Marianne while simultaneously creating friction with Paul. Penelope’s provocative presence adds to the charged atmosphere, complicating the relationships further.
The rivalry between Paul and Harry culminates in a violent confrontation by the pool, where Harry drowns after Paul holds him underwater in a moment that is left ambiguous: was it accidental or intentional? Paul’s subsequent attempt to revive Harry fails, forcing him to leave Harry’s body submerged.
The mystery deepens as the police investigate, distracted by larger issues such as refugee landings, allowing the villa inhabitants to provide conflicting accounts.
Marianne pushes the narrative that an unknown intruder might be responsible, deflecting suspicion from Paul. The island’s serene beauty thus contrasts sharply with the darkness of secrets and lies bubbling beneath the surface.
Morality and Manipulation: Marianne’s Choices and the Mystery of Penelope
Marianne’s character offers one of the film’s central tensions. Though she professes love for Harry, she also claims loyalty to Paul, embodying a fractured vulnerability.
Her silence due to surgery symbolizes the limited communication and hidden truths she harbors. When the police question the occupants, Marianne’s willingness to shift blame onto external forces, such as the refugees nearby, raises uncomfortable ethical questions about self-preservation and scapegoating.
Penelope remains the most mysterious figure. Officially Harry’s daughter, it is revealed she is younger than she claims and fully fluent in Italian, despite allowing other characters to struggle with the language.
Her ambiguous actions, especially her quiet observation of the heated conflicts and her interactions with Paul, create an unsettling presence.
A Bigger Splash (Credit: Amazon Prime Video)
At the film’s conclusion, as Penelope departs the island, she delivers a cryptic remark echoing Marianne’s own words, provoking a visible reaction. Marianne’s slap conveys deep emotional turmoil, while Penelope’s tears during her departure underscore her complex role as both observer and catalyst.
The film leaves Penelope’s intentions and knowledge open to interpretation, inviting viewers to question her true impact on the events.
The Subtle Tensions Beneath Desire and Power
Beyond the central murder mystery and relationship drama, the film explores themes of desire, power play, and the fragile nature of control. Harry’s confident, domineering personality contrasts with Paul’s more subdued demeanor, yet both men reveal vulnerabilities in their battle for Marianne’s affection and emotional dominance.
Director Luca Guadagnino uses the island’s isolation to amplify the characters’ claustrophobia, both physical and emotional. Marianne’s voicelessness intensifies the lack of clear communication, even as the characters’ desires speak loudly in their behaviors.
The pool serves as a symbolic setting where boundaries dissolve between friends and lovers, between aggression and intimacy.
The unresolved nature of the characters’ interactions leaves the film’s impact lingering. The question of who truly controls the narrative, or who holds power in this isolated paradise, remains elusive. The film suggests that beneath the glamorous exterior lies a fragile web of secrets, jealousy, and shifting loyalties.
The finale of A Bigger Splash refuses a neat resolution, instead offering a mosaic of tensions that evoke both the personal cost of desire and the moral ambiguity of survival.
Marianne, Paul, Harry, and Penelope are caught in a delicate dance of vulnerability and manipulation, the ripples of which extend far beyond their sunlit island refuge.
This psychological drama gains depth from its rich character work and atmospheric direction, leaving viewers to piece together the implications long after the credits roll.
