The End We Start From

Water has a nourishing and nurturing role in our lives, yet can also be a destructive force. That dichotomy is explored throughout The End We Start From, a slow-burning British drama that takes its setting’s rainy reputation to extremes.

It’s more character-driven than the typical disaster saga and more grounded than the usual dystopian thriller, although it combines both of those elements.

This richly textured adaptation of the acclaimed novel by Megan Hunter examines how desperate circumstances bring out the best and worst in human nature through the story of a young mother who’s not out to save the world, but whose maternal instincts nevertheless turn her into a resilient heroine,

It opens with a vivid and harrowing sequence in which an unnamed woman (Jodie Comer) is on the verge of going into labor and home alone when an intense thunderstorm rages outside. The water begins to infiltrate the home, gradually at first and then with more intensity.

The birth proceeds without incident, although we learn that most of England is submerged by flooding, which prompts the mother and her husband (Joel Fry) to flee the city to stay with his father (Mark Strong).

When tragedy strikes and provisions run thin, the couple takes the newborn to a public shelter and later becomes separated, leaving mom and child on their own in a dangerous and unpredictable world. Even as she finds allies in a fellow mother (Katherine Waterston), a free-spirited wanderer (Benedict Cumberbatch), and the operator of a remote commune (Gina McKee), she wonders whether she ever be able to reunite their family.

A fully committed portrayal by Comer (The Last Duel) provides an emotional anchor amid the chaos around her. Mother and baby offer hope and motivation despite the pervasive bleakness and despair.

Even as the narrative momentum wavers and the action stagnates, the apocalyptic scenario is just believable enough to resonate, especially in the way in which it fuels widespread panic and paranoia.

Some of the deeper existential contemplations become muddled in the screenplay by Alice Birch (Mothering Sunday), although it does convey some compassionate family dynamics, thanks in part to rookie director Mahalia Belo’s pacing and unassuming visual style.

Fortunately, when the script becomes choppy, especially in the second half, the performances keep the film from getting stuck in the mud.

Rated R, 102 minutes.