Why Did Critics Debate The A Wrinkle In Time Ending?

There’s something oddly slippery about the way 'A Wrinkle in Time' ends, and that’s exactly why critics couldn't leave it alone. I first met the book as a kid hiding under a blanket with a flashlight, and the ending felt like a warm but confusing handshake — full of feeling, a little mystical, and not perfectly explained. Critics have long pointed to that mix: Madeleine L’Engle’s finale trades tidy plot mechanics for a thematic punch. It’s less a technical resolution and more a moral and emotional one, which reads differently depending on whether you’re craving logic or resonance.

Part of the debate comes down to adaptations versus the source. When the 2018 film rolled out, it reimagined visual and narrative elements, amplifying spectacle and streamlining philosophical bits. Some critics loved how the movie tried to visualize the cosmic ‘it’ of evil and the power of love; others felt it turned a nuanced, layered novel into a set-piece climax that leaned on CGI and grand gestures rather than internal growth. There’s also the question of faith and explanation — L’Engle mixes science-speak like ‘tessering’ with spiritual language. That blend can feel profound to readers who accept metaphor, and muddled to reviewers expecting literal answers.

Finally, character payoff mattered. Critics argued whether Meg’s emotional arc — her love rescuing Charles Wallace — was earned on screen. In the book, her awkwardness, math struggles, and family bond build up over chapters; in some adaptations, that development gets compressed, making the ending feel like an emotional shortcut. All that makes the finale a Rorschach test: people project their tolerance for ambiguity, their hunger for spectacle, and their expectations of narrative logic, and they come away very different.

For me, the ending still lands in a weird, beautiful place — imperfect but oddly hopeful — and I keep returning to it when I want a story that trusts feelings over neat mechanics.

What really set critics off about the ending of 'A Wrinkle in Time' was how it straddles metaphor and plot without committing to either, which frustrates people who want clean answers. On one level, it’s a classic emotional resolution — love redeems and heals — and that’s very satisfying for readers who are okay with symbolic finales. On another level, especially in the film, the mechanistic elements (how the tesseracts work, how evil is vanquished) feel underdefined, leading reviewers to call the ending muddled or even like a deus ex machina.

Add in the adaptation choices: scenes shortened, character arcs flattened, and visual spectacle taking center stage, and critics split on whether those choices amplified the story’s heart or hollowed it out. There’s also a deeper argument about faith versus science in L’Engle’s work; some critics read the ending as spiritually resonant, others as vague moralizing. Personally, I find the finale emotionally honest even if it’s narratively fuzzy — it’s the kind of ending that rewards re-reading or re-watching when you’re in the mood to accept mystery instead of strict closure.

I’ve always loved stories that take risks, so the debate around 'A Wrinkle in Time' felt familiar. When critics argue about the ending, they’re really arguing about two different storytelling priorities: thematic payoff versus plot clarity. Madeleine L’Engle’s novel leans into the former — it closes on love, courage, and a kind of metaphysical victory that isn’t mechanistically explained. That makes it poetic but slippery, which makes literary critics and film critics argue in different languages.

The 2018 screen version intensified that friction. Cinematic language demands visual answers, and when a story’s heart is abstract, filmmakers either invent concrete images or risk a diffuse finale. Some reviewers praised the film for daring visuals and for centering emotional truth; others criticized it for feeling emotionally unearned because the character development had been compressed. Critics also debated the ideological tone: L’Engle’s spiritual undertones aren’t strictly doctrinal but suggest a moral universe — some found that uplifting, others saw it as vague moralizing.

There’s also a cultural layer to the discussion. The book’s hybrid of science, philosophy, and religion resists tidy categorization, and modern critics often read it through lenses of representation, spectacle, or narrative economy. So the ending becomes a battleground: Is it a powerful, ambiguous close that invites reflection, or an anticlimactic wrap that dodges explanation? I tend to side with the view that it’s meant to be experienced more than explained, though I totally get the frustration when a climax asks you to just feel rather than understand fully.