it follows (2015): Ending Explained

By Luna Sterling

The slow, inexorable dread of It Follows lingers like a shadow just beyond the edge of your vision, a film that transforms the mundane into the menacing. Directed by David Robert Mitchell, this 2015 psychological horror masterpiece follows a young woman haunted by an otherworldly pursuer, blending suburban ennui with visceral terror. As we delve into its haunting conclusion, we'll unpack the literal events, symbolic depths, and lingering ambiguities that make this ending a cornerstone of modern horror. If you've been searching for It Follows ending explained, you're in the right place—this analysis cuts through the fog of unease to reveal why the film's finale still sends chills years later.

Quick Recap

In the quiet suburbs of Detroit, the film opens with a visceral prelude: Annie Marshall flees her home in panic, her pleas for help falling on deaf ears as she drives to a desolate beach. There, under the vast, indifferent sky, she whispers her love to her parents over the phone before the night claims her in a gruesome, mutilated end—hinting at the supernatural horror to come. Enter Jay Height, a carefree college student whose double date with her boyfriend Hugh turns nightmarish. After their first intimate encounter in his car, Hugh chloroforms her and binds her to a wheelchair in an abandoned lot, revealing the curse he's passed on: a shape-shifting entity that pursues its victim relentlessly at a walking pace, visible only to the afflicted, and capable of assuming any human form.

As the entity stalks Jay—first as a yellow-dressed girl at the movies, then a naked woman shambling through the shadows, and later a urinating half-naked figure or a tall intruder crashing through her home—tension coils like the humid air before a storm. Jay confides in her sister Kelly, childhood friends Paul and Yara, and neighbor Greg, who band together in a haze of disbelief and fear. They track down Hugh (real name Jeff Redmond) at his actual home, where he recounts his own brush with the curse after a one-night stand, emphasizing the grim rule: pass it on through sex, or face death. Desperate to outrun the slow but unyielding doom, the group flees to isolated spots—a lake house, an empty beach—buying time amid the rustle of wind through abandoned buildings and the distant crash of waves. But the entity adapts, closing in with a patience that gnaws at the psyche, forcing Jay and her friends to confront the curse's intimate, inescapable nature.

What Happens in the Ending

The film's climax builds to a feverish standoff at an abandoned swimming pool, the air thick with chlorine echoes and the faint drip of water from cracked tiles, amplifying the claustrophobic dread. Jay, still the entity's primary target, positions herself in the shallow end, her breaths shallow and ragged as the group prepares an ambush. The entity arrives in the form of an elderly woman, her steps deliberate and unhurried across the pool deck, the water's surface rippling like a disturbed mirror. Paul and the others open fire—gunshots cracking sharply against the tiled walls—wounding the figure as it plunges into the pool, blood clouding the water in swirling crimson tendrils. They unload round after round, the entity's body jerking unnaturally beneath the surface, until it sinks, seemingly lifeless, the pool's depths swallowing it whole.

Relief washes over them like a fleeting tide, but the unease persists in the dim, flickering light. Later, Jay and Paul share a tentative intimacy on a nearby dock, the lake's gentle lapping a deceptive calm after the violence. They drive home through the tree-lined streets, windows down to let in the cool evening air scented with pine and distant rain. Yet, as their car pauses at a stop, Jay's gaze drifts to the beach they pass—a figure emerges from the water, dripping and indistinct, walking steadily toward them across the sand. The entity's return is subtle, almost swallowed by the horizon's haze, but unmistakable to Jay. Paul, oblivious, drives on, the engine's hum underscoring the unresolved tension as the screen fades to black.

The Meaning Behind the Ending

At its core, the ending embodies the film's relentless psychological vise: no true escape from the entity's slow march, symbolizing the inescapable burdens of trauma, sexuality, and mortality. The pool ambush, with its visceral splatter of blood into the water, offers a momentary illusion of agency—human violence against the supernatural—but the figure's reemergence from the lake shatters it. Water, a recurring motif slick with foreboding, represents both purification and submersion; the entity drowns only to resurface, suggesting the curse's immortality, a metaphor for how personal demons resurface no matter how deeply we try to bury them. The final beach sighting evokes Annie's opening death, closing the loop in a cycle of pursuit, where the entity's approach feels like the tide's inevitable pull, eroding the shores of sanity.

This conclusion underscores the theme of inherited guilt: the curse, passed through intimacy, mirrors the unintended consequences of connection in a disconnected world. Jay's fleeting peace with Paul hints at acceptance, yet the entity's distant silhouette—blurred by twilight and sea spray—reminds us that relief is illusory, the tension a visceral hum in the chest that never fully dissipates.

Character Arcs and Resolution

Jay's journey arcs from naive innocence to haunted resilience, her wide-eyed wonder at the film's start curdling into a steely determination by the end. The pool confrontation marks her reclaiming some control, stepping into the water not as victim but as confronter, her fear tempered by the bonds with her friends. Yet the ending's ambiguity leaves her arc open-ended; intimacy with Paul passes the curse onward, resolving her immediate threat but perpetuating the cycle, a bittersweet evolution from isolation to shared burden.

Paul, the loyal everyman, grows from comic relief—fumbling with shotguns amid the pool's echoing shots—to a quiet protector, his understated affection for Jay culminating in their dockside moment. Kelly and Yara provide the emotional scaffolding, their sisterly and friendly ties fraying under the entity's shadow but ultimately fortifying the group's resolve. Jeff (Hugh) fades into the background, his arc a cautionary tale of evasion, while Greg's involvement ends abruptly, underscoring the curse's selective toll. Collectively, their resolutions feel incomplete, the suburban normalcy they return to laced with unspoken dread, as if the air itself carries the faint, wet scent of approaching footsteps.

Alternate Interpretations

The ending's deliberate vagueness invites multiple lenses. One reading posits the entity as a literal STD metaphor—passed through sex, incurable, with the pool "kill" as futile treatment and the beach return as inevitable relapse—emphasizing safer sex themes without preachiness. Alternatively, it could symbolize mental illness: Jay's visions as hallucinations, the group's complicity in her "delusions," and the final sighting a psychological echo, the water's chill mirroring intrusive thoughts that walking pace never truly leaves behind.

A more optimistic take sees the ending as empowerment; Jay's survival, even if temporary, breaks the isolation, suggesting community as a buffer against existential horror. Pessimists argue it's nihilistic—the entity wins by design, its resurrection a reminder that some pursuits are eternal, the distant figure on the beach a visceral punch of futility. These interpretations swirl like the blood in the pool, each enhancing the film's immersive unease without a single "right" answer.

Themes and Symbolism

The ending reinforces It Follows' core themes of sexuality as both vulnerability and weapon, subverting the slasher trope by making pursuit intimate rather than explosive. The entity's human disguises—elderly, naked, intrusive—symbolize distorted relationships, the walking pace evoking the gradual creep of regret or consequence. Suburban settings, with their empty pools and foggy beaches, amplify isolation, the sensory hush of wind through screens or sand underfoot heightening psychological tension.

Symbolically, the lake and beach frame the narrative as a liminal space between life and death, the entity's watery return subverting baptismal renewal for endless recurrence. It challenges the American dream's facade, where quiet streets hide predatory undercurrents, and youth's freedoms come at the cost of perpetual vigilance—a mood that clings like damp clothes after a midnight swim.

Final Thoughts

It Follows' ending masterfully works by refusing closure, leaving viewers in the same suspended dread as Jay, the screen's fade-out echoing the entity's unhurried approach. It's a triumph of atmospheric horror, where the psychological weight—the prickling awareness of being watched—outlasts any jump scare. This ambiguity elevates it beyond genre confines, inviting endless rewatches to parse the shadows. If the film is a slow-burn nightmare, its conclusion is the restless awakening, proving why It Follows remains a cult touchstone: in a world of fleeting distractions, some fears follow forever.