La Vida De Chuck

I went into The Life of Chuck knowing nothing about it other than it being a Stephen King novella.

I assumed the movie was going to be horror, and I was so wrong, in the best way. Mike Flanagan was a director I was unfamiliar with as well - so my expectations were really empty.

That being said - The Life of Chuck took the beats of what makes a great horror film - fleshed out and relatable characters with a unique and mysterious situation to put them in.

I want to leave my critique relatively vague as I believe the hook of the film works best going in without knowing much.

I left the film feeling a mix of joy and melancholy and appreciated the artistry that brought me there.

I do recommend.

Summed up, Mike Flanagan made a deep, multilayered yet beautiful film about the value of life. It's really hard to explain but Flanagan does not waste a single shot. There is a narration throughout the movie, yet right from 'Act Three,' everything seen and experienced unfolds perfectly in 'Act One.' Ejiofor & Gillan are fantastic in Act Three but if The Life of Chuck is to be nominated for anything, it has to be the sound. From the cosmic elements in 'Act Three' to the dancing scenes in 'Acts Two & One,' Flanagan did an exceptional job incorporating the sound throughout.

Of course, everyone was focusing on Hiddleston and his character, but Tom even mentioned it was really a team effort in Act Two and Annalise Basso, Hiddleston's dance partner in Act Two, and Taylor Gordon (who is in the credits as The Pocket Queen), the busker, all three combined with their choreographers Mandy Moore & Stephanie Powell really make the dance scene sing. Taylor Gordon is a talent in herself in her brief, but excellent role.

What surprised me was how Act One was with young Chuck and no one talks about how excellent the kids were. Their performances were just as brilliant as the adults, if not more so when young Chuck receives a very haunting monologue from his grandfather (an unbelievable Mark Hamill) about certain choices in life. Act One really helps put the puzzle together that was Act Three, where the cosmic elements can be off-putting, but it all serves a purpose. Stephen King is right when he says The Life of Chuck is one of the good ones. The spirit and energy is felt from beginning to end, and with all on board performances giving their best, Flanagan is further establishing himself as one of contemporary's greater directors.

One thing I will say is The Life of Chuck is dedicated In Memory to Scott Wampler. And there are a few cameos in The Life of Chuck but Scott's inclusion just tugged me right at the heart. Great film.

When you think of the pairing of Stephen King and filmmaker Mike Flanagan, your immediate thought is likely horror. The American author is famous for novels like It, The Shining, and Misery, while the American filmmaker has delivered some of the most acclaimed horror in the last decade with Oculus (2013), The Haunting of Hill House (2018), and Doctor Sleep (2019). Yet their latest collaboration ventures far from the horror genre, instead embracing a more philosophical and contemplative tone.

The Life of Chuck (2024) is adapted from a short story in King's collection If It Bleeds. Told in three acts and in reverse chronological order, the story begins at the end: we follow a high school teacher (Chiwetel Ejiofor) in a dystopian near-future that feels uncomfortably present-rolling blackouts, raging wildfires, and mounting conflict between Pakistan and India. When the face of a seeming nobody, Charles Krantz (Tom Hiddleston), begins appearing on billboards and ads with a cryptic message-"Thank you, Chuck, for 39 great years"-no one can explain why, especially amid an apparent apocalypse. We then move backward in time to meet Chuck as an adult: an unassuming accountant. Eventually, we arrive at his childhood, where he is raised by his math-loving, alcoholic grandfather (Mark Hamill) and his dance-loving grandmother (Mia Sara).

The Life of Chuck is difficult to summarize-or even introduce. That ambiguity likely contributed to its initial struggle to secure distribution, despite winning the top prize at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival. The film begins as a gripping dystopian drama but gradually transforms into a slice-of-life meditation on an ordinary man's existence. It ultimately feels more akin to a Noah Baumbach or Richard Linklater film than to the usual work of Flanagan or King, evoking the emotional resonance of King's Stand by Me and The Green Mile.

This isn't a cradle-to-grave biopic but rather a presentation of three key moments in Chuck's life, tied together by Nick Offerman's warm narration that channels King's lyrical prose. Both King and Flanagan have a gift for crafting vivid characters in mere seconds, perhaps best illustrated in a mall dance sequence where three people we've only just met share a moment so emotionally resonant that it nearly brings you to tears. Yet the emotional core of the film lies in Chuck's youth, which gives us the fullest picture of his life and connects the dots established in the earlier acts. In many ways, the film mirrors how we get to know people in real life: starting with a surface impression, discovering small clues to their passions, and then uncovering the deeper history that shaped them. This reverse narrative structure is rare in cinema, used most famously by Christopher Nolan in Memento (2000) to depict the experience of short-term memory loss.

The Life of Chuck is a mosaic of small moments, interactions, and observations that cumulatively reveal the life of a man who may, at first glance, seem insignificant. But King's story and Flanagan's adaptation elevate the ordinary, framing the narrative with Walt Whitman's poem Song of Myself, especially the line: "I contain multitudes." This quote becomes key to understanding the supernatural undercurrents and thematic glue that binds the film's three acts.

Some viewers may wish for more obvious connections between the segments or a more traditional narrative arc. Each act is a gem in its own right, but the transitions can feel abrupt or disconnected. Still, adding filler or more conventional storytelling would only dilute the film's essence. The sparse structure is deliberate-and powerful. Padding it with exposition or additional characters would risk undermining the film's emotional clarity and philosophical weight. Flanagan's refusal to spoon-feed the audience is a courageous choice and one of the reasons I admire him as a filmmaker, both on television and in cinema. Like Terrence Malick's later work-though far less pretentious-The Life of Chuck asks the viewer to meet it halfway.

Visually, Flanagan continues to impress with a clean, distinctive cinematic language that enhances rather than distracts. His editing and pacing feel like listening to a master orator-confident, fluid, and perfectly timed. He's also one of the most consistent directors of actors working today, drawing superb performances from both stars and newcomers alike. While Hiddleston and Ejiofor are predictably excellent, it's the younger cast-especially Benjamin Pajak as young Chuck-who shine. Even those with only a line or two make an impression, thanks in part to strong casting and Flanagan's knack for coaxing depth from every performance.

In the end, The Life of Chuck is as difficult to classify as it is to explain. Its vignettes and meditations on what makes a life meaningful steer clear of sentimentality to deliver a heartfelt and enriching experience. With bold direction, a unique structure if slightly disjointed, and a profound source text, The Life of Chuck may not follow the rules-but that's precisely why it shouldn't be missed.

What's behind the locked door upstairs? What's Albie's secret? Stephen King's fingerprints are all over the storytelling in "The Life of Chuck," but we don't find ourselves creeping haltingly toward the answers to those questions. We aren't dreading what comes next in some nightmarish journey. Instead, we are led dancing toward the unknown, light on our feet, through a dreamy landscape more enchanting than threatening.

"I am large. I am multitudes," we hear twice in the reading of Walt Whitman's poem, "Song of Myself." Yes, in this, the universe between Stephen King's ears, there's a vastness to life's experience, to the relationships that shape our experience, and there is magic in its precious moments, until there isn't. Until it all ends. Until time, or the end of time, shrinks life's vastness down to life's biggest question: Is this it? Is there nothing more when the universe's clock runs out?

"The Life of Chuck" is a coming-of-age story wondrously told as an end-times tale, with the dancing, and the fantastical nature of the storytelling, taking the sting out of the existential weight of its themes.

The Life of Chuck is simply the tale of a life, one that was simple and good, not especially spectacular or meaningful, but magical nonetheless.

Told more or less in reverse chronological order, we learn about Chuck, his dreams and loves, losses and pain. The pacing is excellent and the performances are genuinely touching. The dance sequences (of which there are two) are full of energy and emotional context.

It took me a short while after the film had finished to put all the pieces into place in my head, but yes, it does all make sense in retrospect.

This is a film where there are no villains, no great spectacle, just ... people. And that is more than enough.