Dramas – indeed every story – can largely be considered collections of decisions, the whys of their making and the consequences of them thereafter. Stephen King is a master of the genre, oft-described as a writer of horror, but more accurately a scribe of those razor-sharp and karmic after-effects. He introduces us to characters and situations that cause such moments of decision that frame the good and the bad that comes from them. It’s interesting, then, that The Life of Chuck distinguishes itself by avoiding such judgements of outcome and instead merely underlines the understanding of those truths. Neither King as a writer or Mike Flanagan (as director and writer) are here to tell you what decisions should be (or should have been) in the life of Charles ‘Chuck’ Krantz, merely that every decision played a part and that for all of us it’s the moments that add up to a journey that add up to a life lived, however we choose it or it chooses us.
Expectations play a part here, perhaps more so than most movie-going. If you’re reading this without having seen the film, I would simply cut to the chase and encourage you to see and embrace it before returning here. It’s not that it’s perfect – though a work of art it may be – but it feels like a film you should experience devoid of knowing too much about the journey ahead or before. Some have said that it’s the best screen-adaptation of a King novel, but that’s a bit misleading as there’s some true cinematic milestone shoes to impossibly fill and The Life of Chuck feels like King flexing a slightly different muscle, albeit with some familiar beats and fancy-footwork. It comes with moments of incredible delight and warmth which will find you laughing and tapping your foot and instances of colder and less forgiving darkness that make you want to pull loved ones closer, but as in the title, it offers a look at Life, sometimes messy, sometimes incomplete in its stitching, some moments unforgettable, some sights unseen but with enough ‘I’m glad I…‘ and ‘I wish I had…‘ counterpoints to reflect the collective experience.
Flanagan, an unapologetic fan of Stephen King’s work and who previously helmed the likes of Gerald’s Game and Doctor Sleep (he is currently working on a tv adaptation of Carrie and to bring the author’s The Dark Tower to the screen) has long since proven himself as a great writer and director. His delicate, foundational construction of The Haunting of Hill House remains a televisual masterpiece of gothic story-telling and The Haunting of Bly Manor, Midnight Mass, The Midnight Club and The Fall of the House of Usher have only enhanced his reputation. But with The Life of Chuck he underlines the fact that his power (like King’s) is not just in the weave of a mystery but in the characters that flit across the loom and make it a tale we want to hear. There’s some chills and despair here, but no outright horror and Flanagan infuses the story with a beating heart.
The trailer for the film didn’t spell out the story… largely because it’s not a standardised three-act narrative (though, ironically, it is told in three acts, in reverse-chronological order). We first meet teacher Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a committed English teacher who is trying to hold on to the power of the written word even as he – like the general populace – becomes aware that the world is starting to crumble around him. The internet has gone down, natural disasters are occurring daily and it begins to feel like everyone is waiting to draw one last breath. He discusses life and death with neighbour Gus (Matthew Lillard) and regrets with ex-wife Felicia (Karen Gillan), noting that in this possible ‘End of Days’ there’s more people getting back together than divorcing, merely because who needs the paperwork of the latter when time may be limited? As the lights start to go out, Marty and Felicia seek to reconnect but they keep seeing billboards and tv images thanking a man called Chuck for his 39 years of service. They have no idea who he is, but as things recede to nowhere, he appears to be everywhere.
Some have said that it’s the best screen-adaptation of a King novel, but that’s a bit misleading as there’s some true cinematic milestone shoes to impossibly fill and The Life of Chuck feels like King flexing a slightly different muscle, albeit with some familiar beats and fancy-footwork. It comes with moments of incredible delight and warmth which will find you laughing and tapping your foot and instances of colder and less forgiving darkness that make you want to pull loved ones closer…
In search of a marketing hook, it’s Hiddleston’s face (as the eponymous Chuck) and his dancing that come front and centre on the cinema poster, channeling both his bankability, likability and a La-La Land feel to its invitation. Though it encapsulates the vibe of the middle ‘Act’, it’s also something of a misdirect as the film doesn’t stick to one thing. Though ‘Act 2’ is the most enjoyable in its surefootedness, there’s an argument that Hiddleston’s version of the title character – here in his late 30s and wondering if he made the best of his life – is actually the least detailed. Though the actor makes the most of every second he’s on screen and can sell an emotion with the slightest facial nuance, this sequence sees Chuck at a momentary emotional high, framed by a musical/dance number that is both cinematic and charmingly organic, gloriously spontaneous in some respects and yet choreographed with flair. In other films it would be the pivot of a romance, but here it’s all about a simple, captured moment of happiness and memory, even in the midst of something mundane and Hiddleston nails it alongside erstwhile dance-partner Annalise Basso (Snowpiercer) as Janice.
The third act introduces the elements that have simmered in the preceding parts, with a young, orphaned Chuck (played by Cody Flanagan, Benjamin Pajak and Jacob Tremblay as he grows older) being raised by his grandparents (played with aplomb by Mark Hamill and Mia Sara). It is they, each in their own way, that seek to steer him away from early tragedies and to find his footing in life. Sara’s Sarah has a sparkle behind her eyes and loves music and musicals and instills in Chuck a love of dance and cinema. Hammil’s Albie initially feels to be a bit of a curmudgeon, but also sells the idea that even the seemingly mundane area of maths and accountancy can hold the secrets of the universe, its numbers creating patterns and journeys that factor into everyday needs. This is, remember, a Stephen King story and this chapter holds a mystery concerning a locked room at the top of the house that Albie forbids Chuck from ever entering and which obviously contains something potentially dangerous and profound. It proves not so much a key to the film’s core but a frame for it and as the film draws to a close we understand it a little better.
When that end (or beginning) comes – as it must for the film and life – there will likely be questions you wish were answered. Ultimately, The Life of Chuck doesn’t connect all the dots, which you really expect it to do or hope for (again, Flanagan and …Hill House told us to pay close attention to foreground and background for just that purpose – here there’s less of that ‘completeness’) but it does arrange them in an intriguing pattern you want to follow and which mean more with each layer of context. But even if you wish some things were anchored down instead of proving ethereal and open-to-interpretation, it does feel like the film can be exactly what you want it to be and yet remain just as valid for someone watching from a different point of view and that’s a rare achievement and accolade. It’s not asking you to choose, but to acknowledge.
Everyone brings their A-game. Hiddleston, Hamill, Sara, Ejiofor and Gillan are on fine form but the likes of Matthew Lillard, Carl Lumbly, David Dastmalchian and Flanagan regulars Kate Siegel, Samantha Sloyan and Rahul Kohli also get their moments to shine, making even short scenes sparkle.
In many ways The Life of Chuck is more similar to Forrest Gump than anything found in the nooks and crannies of Castle Rock, but though it also follows a man’s life story through the amazing and mundane, it does it with a more down-to-earth charm and sense of magic. It won’t be to every taste: some with applaud loudly, others will question the tonal shifts (that sometimes make it feel like three shorter and more disparate films linking their tapestry with fine threads) and shrug at the lack of solid ground that shifts beneath your feet like moonwalking. It simultaneously feels like a film that could be favoured through an award season as a triumph or ignored as an indulgence, depending on what other titles catch the spotlight. It seems both flimsy and substantial, uneven yet well-rounded – you want to spend more time with the characters it features. In an interview, Karen Gillan described the story and the film as a ‘cathartic experience’ and that description works well – it does seem to catch both the hope and hopelessness that many are feeling at the moment as events swirl around them on smaller and global scales and yet also remembers why you keep pushing through. It doesn’t tell you everything is going to be okay, but it does proclaim that you and everything in your multitude of your experience matters.
That, if nothing else, makes it worth your time.
- Story9
- Acting9
- Direction9
- Production Design / VFX9
