Chloe Ending Explained: Lies, Mistrust, & Psychosexual Dilemmas

Atom Egoyan, who burst into the scene as a part of the Toronto New Wave of the 1980s, has a penchant for making films that are primarily character studies that simmer with psychosexual themes. Egoyan's "Exotica" combines the best aspects of an erotic thriller, offering a rich, dizzying descent into a labyrinth of secrets and deceptions, where sexual allure threads together an intriguing plot until the end. Almost 15 years later, Egoyan helmed "Chloe," a remake of the French erotic thriller "Nathalie..." that navigates the anxieties of an older married woman who suspects that her husband is an adulterer. While "Chloe" and "Nathalie..." share the same narrative core, Egoyan's treatment of the subject matter takes some wild turns, culminating in a grisly end that significantly departs from that of the French psychosexual drama.

There's ample potential in Egoyan's film, which centers on the insecurities of Catherine (Julianne Moore), who harbors a complicated relationship with her sexuality, the male gaze, and her worth in the eyes of her husband, David (Liam Neeson). "Chole" could have been a frenetic erotic thriller that luxuriates in these complex emotions — where Egoyan could have furthered the heady, layered explorations of "Exotica" — but the film stumbles and its sexual intrigue fizzles out before it can entrance us. There's lots to unpack, nevertheless, especially when it comes to its ambiguous ending, which re-contextualizes Catherine as an individual and adds unsavory tints to her behavior throughout the film.

All relationships hinge on power dynamics, and "Chloe" unpacks these unspoken hierarchies, keeping female sexual autonomy and societal perception of sex work at the center. Although Catherine's viewpoint colors our perception of her world, it is Cloe (Amanda Seyfried) who grounds us into a truth that runs deeper than the shock twists that attempt to enliven the third act.

What does one do when they suspect their spouse of being unfaithful? There are no easy answers, as such situations can be extremely tricky. When accomplished gynecologist Catherine finds a suspicious picture of her husband, David (a college professor), with a young student in his class, her world comes to a standstill. Right from the beginning, Catherine's perception of David is coded in a hyper-specific way, where she views him as older, yet charmingly handsome, with an obvious appeal to younger women around him. David's tendency to flirt around does not help matters, and Catherine, instead of confronting him, sets her sights on a sex worker named Chloe to catch him in the act.

While this might feel like a contrivance to propel the plot, it is not difficult to understand Catherine's preference to gather proof of her husband's apparent infidelity as opposed to having an honest conversation with David. The way Catherine views every other woman around her before learning about this supposed betrayal is interesting: One of her clients feels miserable that she's unable to orgasm, and Catherine downplays this as a muscle contraction while maintaining an air of cold aloofness, almost conveying the stance that female sexual satisfaction is immaterial. All of her female friends are painted as somehow inferior to her, while the women who frequent arbitrarily in public spaces, or those who, in her eyes, infringe upon her home (such as her teenage son Michael's girlfriend, Anna), are regarded with quiet rage and contempt.

However, Chloe, whom Catherine observes while the former meets with her fancy clients in upscale bars, emerges as an anomaly amongst her established perception of women as either inferior to herself or a direct threat to her from a psychosexual standpoint.

The root of Catherine's emotional agony when it comes to David's infidelity is her conviction that she's invisible in her husband's eyes because she's aging, i.e. becoming "less attractive" in the process. This, obviously, is a harmful, deep-rooted belief hammered in by patriarchal standards of beauty. Catherine views older men like her husband as ones who get increasingly attractive with age, a baffling double standard that she's unable to dissect due to her insecurities. This self-deprecating sense of becoming invisible in the context of the male gaze also extends to her son, Michael, who is on the cusp of exercising sexual autonomy, which Catherine finds deeply troubling.

The dreamlike quality that Chloe exudes is intentional, as she flits in and out of the film like a wisp of a person, powerful in the ownership of her sexuality. This freedom is a double-edged sword, as society views Chloe as a means to an end, to the point that dehumanization is ingrained into the sex work that she otherwise enjoys. Catherine proves herself to be no different than the men who treat Chloe as an object, as she coldly reminds her that their night of passion together was just a business transaction. Although Catherine feels "seen" with Chloe when they sleep together (and Catherine explores her affinity for indirect voyeurism and attraction towards women), she doesn't deem the experience substantial enough to validate it as a meaningful one.

Catherine's dismissive attitude toward Chloe reveals some uncomfortable truths. While she might be genuinely attracted to Chloe, Catherine coldly rationalizes the experience as a surrogate sexual encounter from David's point of view. Even in a fleeting moment of pleasure, Catherine is unable to shed the lingering presence of the male gaze dictating problematic yardsticks for what counts as female pleasure. 

What drives "Chloe" to its murderous conclusion is not its somewhat steamy central relationship with wisps of adulterous connotations, but an unchecked obsession that triggers an unfortunate event. Chloe feels jilted by Catherine's cold demeanor and insists that David is still cheating on her. However, a confrontation staged by Catherine reveals the truth: Chloe's elaborate erotic tales about her and David together were fabrications and David is actually not cheating on his wife, despite struggling with urges. 

Although this revelation brings the couple closer, as they acknowledge the distance between them and vow to work on being there for the other, Chloe decides to sleep with Michael in order to edge closer to Catherine and get under her skin. While Chloe claims that she slept with Michael as he "reminded" her of Catherine, this act chips away at Catherine's final sense of control, leading to a volatile confrontation that results in Chloe's death.

The question of whether Chloe falls by accident or whether she deliberately lets go of the window frame during the climax can be better understood when we take the film's alternate endings into consideration. In the first alternate version, Chloe's voiceover can be heard after her death, where she admits to having fallen on purpose so that she would forever become a part of Catherine's life. The final shot of the hairpin in the theatrical version of the film drives this sentiment home, although this dramatic, obsession-fueled self-sacrifice feels too extreme and uneven.

The other alternate ending, however, is hollower: this version ends with Catherine's voice-over, where she muses that Chloe's death, although in vain, granted her a second chance at life. This is not only bleak but in extremely poor taste, situating Catherine as a privileged, self-centered person who reframes a woman's grisly death as a do-over in life.

No matter which ending appeals to you, it is clear that the ambiguous theatrical ending, which frames the final hairpin shot as both sweet and ominous, is the one that "Chloe" benefits the most from. By deliberately leaving a bad taste in your mouth, Egoyan's erotic thriller dwells on the unsavory nature of this death that seems to have been brushed off or altogether forgotten. By wearing Chloe's hairpin, Catherine has re-assumed control of the situation, and her life. It is not only a reminder of her experiences with Chloe but also a token that symbolizes the reclamation of her autonomy — at the cost of the death of a woman who belonged to a socio-economic strata that is often relegated to the margins.

Egoyan spoke to The Rumpus about this borderline-obsessive control Catherine wishes to exert over everyone around her. Egoyan went as far as to say that Catherine is "completely the villain," as her need to control everything, coupled with her inability to take accountability for her actions, leaves destruction in her wake, which she callously downplays to move forward in life. While framing Catherine as a villain might be a tad too simplistic, as she is also a victim of patriarchal double-standards, she is undoubtedly cold and calculated when it serves her best and extends empathy in a way that feels altogether disingenuous.

Chloe's motivations, on the other hand, are never spelled out, as she simply exists as a vehicle of pleasure. "I can become your living, breathing, unflinching dream, and then I can just disappear," she tells one of her clients at one point. And she does disappear, never to be spoken of again, only remembered in the form of a hairpin that was both an instrument of beauty and violence.