Nocturnal Animals (2016): Ending Explained

By Ellis Carver

Tom Ford's Nocturnal Animals is a masterful neo-noir psychological thriller that weaves a tale of regret, vengeance, and unspoken truths. Starring Amy Adams as Susan Morrow and Jake Gyllenhaal in dual roles as her ex-husband Edward Sheffield and the novel's tormented protagonist Tony Hastings, the film blurs the lines between reality and fiction. As an art gallery owner grappling with a crumbling marriage, Susan receives a manuscript from Edward, her estranged first husband, forcing her to confront the ghosts of their past. The story unfolds in dual narratives: Susan's present-day life in upscale Los Angeles and the brutal, fictional world of Edward's novel Nocturnal Animals, where a family's road trip through West Texas spirals into unimaginable horror at the hands of sadistic locals Ray Marcus, Lou, and Turk.

The film's power lies in its layered structure, with the manuscript serving as a mirror to Susan's emotional desolation. As she reads, memories of her failed marriage to Edward surface—his nickname for her, the abortion that ended their relationship, and her choice to leave him for a life of hollow luxury with her current husband, Hutton Morrow. The novel's violence escalates as Tony Hastings witnesses the kidnapping, rape, and murder of his wife Laura and daughter India, leaving him consumed by guilt and impotence. Detective Bobby Andes, a hard-edged investigator battling terminal lung cancer, takes up the case, leading to a grim pursuit of justice against the perpetrators.

Leading into the ending, Susan becomes increasingly immersed in the manuscript, her own life unraveling amid Hutton's infidelity and the superficiality of her art world. The novel reaches its climax as Tony identifies one of the killers, Lou, who dies in custody after a botched robbery. Turk meets a fatal end in the same incident, but Ray remains at large, taunting Tony with his freedom due to insufficient evidence. Andes, facing his own mortality and institutional frustrations, hints at a rogue path forward, embodying the moral gray areas that define the story's undercurrents.

What Happens in the Ending

The film's final act intertwines the conclusion of Edward's novel with Susan's poignant isolation, delivering a denouement that is as emotionally raw as it is structurally elegant. In the manuscript's gripping finale, Tony Hastings, still shattered by the loss of his family, works with Detective Bobby Andes to close in on the remaining killers. Lou, one of the assailants, is apprehended during a failed robbery and charged as an accomplice in the murders of Laura and India. However, he dies in prison before trial, sparing Tony a direct confrontation but deepening his sense of unresolved anguish. Turk, another perpetrator, is killed outright in the same botched crime, thinning the ranks of the guilty.

Ray Marcus, the charismatic ringleader whose mocking cruelty has haunted Tony throughout, is briefly arrested by Andes. Yet, with only circumstantial evidence tying him to the crimes, Ray is released, his smug evasion of justice pushing Tony—and Andes—to the brink. Andes, diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and on the verge of being ousted from the force, reveals his desperation in a tense exchange. In a chilling act of vigilante retribution, Andes and his partner execute Ray and his associates off-screen, staging it as an ambush gone wrong. Tony, informed indirectly of this extrajudicial "justice," is left to grapple with its hollow victory, wandering alone in the desolate Texas night, his revenge tasting of ash.

Shifting back to the frame narrative, Susan completes the manuscript in the quiet hours before dawn, her face etched with the weight of its dedication to her—"For Susan: Nocturnal Animal." Stirred by the story's parallels to her own regrets—her abandonment of Edward, the child she terminated, and her current loveless marriage—she reaches out. They arrange to meet at a restaurant to discuss the book, a chance for reconciliation or at least closure. Susan arrives dressed elegantly, her vulnerability palpable as she waits at the table, nursing a drink amid the empty chairs. Hours pass; Edward never appears. The camera lingers on her solitude as she finally leaves, the city lights blurring into the darkness, echoing the nocturnal emptiness of the title.

The Meaning Behind the Ending

At its core, the ending of Nocturnal Animals is a meditation on the irreversibility of choices and the quiet violence of emotional neglect. Edward's no-show at the restaurant isn't mere pettiness; it's a deliberate act of narrative revenge, mirroring the manuscript's themes of impotence and retribution. By dedicating the brutal story to Susan and then withholding himself, Edward forces her to internalize the pain she once inflicted—aborting their future and choosing material security over love. The novel's vigilante justice, where Andes bypasses the law's inadequacies to deliver a fatal reckoning, symbolizes the seductive allure of personal vengeance, but it arrives tainted, underscoring how revenge, whether fictional or real, erodes the soul without restoring what was lost.

Symbolically, the "nocturnal animals" of the title represent hidden instincts and suppressed desires that emerge in the dark. Tony's futile drive through the Texas wilderness parallels Susan's aimless wait in the restaurant—both are pursuits marked by isolation and the illusion of control. The obese, naked majorettes in Susan's gallery exhibit, glimpsed in the film's periphery, serve as a grotesque counterpoint to her refined world, critiquing the commodification of the body and the emptiness of her artistic facade. Ford's direction, with its stark lighting and lingering shots, amplifies these metaphors, inviting viewers to ponder the human cost of regret: Susan's ending isn't explosive but suffocating, a slow realization that some wounds fester in silence.

Character Arcs and Resolution

Susan Morrow's arc culminates in a profound, if unresolved, self-reckoning. Beginning as a poised but detached curator, her immersion in the manuscript peels back layers of denial, exposing the moral compromises of her life—trading passion for privilege, only to find betrayal in her second marriage. The ending resolves her journey not with catharsis but with quiet devastation; Edward's absence forces her to confront her role as the "villain" in their shared history, much like Tony's guilt over his family's fate. It's a resolution steeped in psychological realism: growth comes not from reunion but from the sting of abandonment, leaving Susan to navigate her regrets alone.

Edward Sheffield, embodied by Gyllenhaal's understated intensity, evolves from a heartbroken writer into a subtle avenger. His manuscript is his weapon, transforming personal pain into art that indicts Susan without direct confrontation. By the end, his no-show completes this arc, affirming his agency—he reclaims power not through violence but through absence, a sophisticated rebuke to the woman who once dismissed him. Tony Hastings, the fictional stand-in, mirrors this: his "resolution" via Andes' killings offers no peace, highlighting the endless cycle of trauma. Collectively, these arcs underscore the film's moral complexity: no one emerges unscathed, and justice, whether pursued or evaded, exacts its toll on the psyche.

Alternate Interpretations

The ending's ambiguity—Edward's unexplained absence, the off-screen nature of Andes' killings—invites multiple lenses. One reading posits it as Edward's ultimate mercy: by not appearing, he spares Susan the pain of rejection in person, allowing her to project her guilt onto the story alone. Alternatively, it could be cruel manipulation, using the manuscript as bait to make her relive their breakup on her terms, emphasizing themes of emotional warfare in failed relationships. For Tony's storyline, some see Andes' actions as heroic subversion of a flawed system, a nod to societal failures in protecting the vulnerable; others view it as a descent into chaos, blurring the line between victim and perpetrator. These interpretations hinge on the film's dual structure, where fiction bleeds into reality, leaving viewers to question if Susan's "ending" is Edward's fiction made manifest or merely her paranoia amplified.

Themes and Symbolism

Nocturnal Animals reinforces themes of regret and the fragility of civility through its ending, subverting expectations of tidy closure. The manuscript's West Texas brutality comments on America's underbelly—lawlessness thriving in rural isolation—while Susan's Los Angeles existence critiques urban alienation, where wealth masks profound loneliness. Symbolism abounds: the road in Tony's tale evokes life's irreversible paths, much like Susan's choice to leave Edward. The dedication "Nocturnal Animal" brands her as predatory yet vulnerable, a creature of the night haunted by instincts she suppressed. Moral complexity shines in Andes' cancer diagnosis, symbolizing how personal decay mirrors societal rot; his rogue justice subverts heroic tropes, questioning whether ends justify means. Overall, the ending elevates these elements, transforming a thriller into a contemplative essay on human frailty and the stories we tell to cope with loss.

Final Thoughts

Ford's ending in Nocturnal Animals is a triumph of restraint, working brilliantly because it resists easy answers, mirroring the messy truths of regret and revenge. It's not a crowd-pleaser in the traditional sense—no explosive showdowns or heartfelt reunions—but its subtlety lingers, provoking introspection long after the credits roll. For audiences drawn to psychological depth, this conclusion cements the film's status as a modern noir gem, reminding us that the most haunting stories are those we write in the silence of our own lives. If you're unpacking the layers of love's darker side, this ending demands—and rewards—multiple viewings.