Thanks, Chuck, for 39 Great Years!  The signs have been going up all around town and the radio and TV ads have been singing Chuck’s praises as he prepares to retire.  The only problem is, no one in town knows who Chuck is.  It is just one of the many things which Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and his ex-wife, Felicia Gordon (Karen Gillan) discuss over the phone as they reckon with the impending global collapse form the apparent apocalypse.  As time runs out on Earth and humanity, the two lost souls find comfort in each other as little else makes sense in this dying world, and it is better than facing it alone. 

Mike Flanagan writes and directs The Life of Chuck, an adaptation of a short story by Stephen King from his 2020 anthology “If It Bleeds” which also featured the inspiration for John Lee Hancock’s Mr. Harrigan’s Phone (2022).  The 111 minute film was met to great acclaim out of the 2024 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival where it won the Audience Award, however general audiences would have to wait quite some time to see it for themselves.  Neon eventually debuted the film, though only on a hair above 1,000 screens and 10 months after its initial bow. 

The film opens in Act III and it is one of the most engaging and captivating sequences as it introduces us to the world of the film.  Playing out in reverse, the titular Chuck (Tom Hiddleston) is practically no where to be seen for the first act other than in billboard and TV ads, or his name scrawled up high above by a sky writer thanking him for 39 great years.  Ejiofor and Gilian introduce us to this metered chaos with such grace and ability that we are lulled into an understanding even though answers are few and far between.  In a testament to their performances, they deliver Flanagan’s monologs – much of which were lifted straight from the text of the story – with all of the saccharine sentiment it requires while not being so sickeningly sweet that audiences – potentially exhausted by dealing with collapsing of social norms outside of the cinema – do not totally turn their backs on the film. 

The universe ends in the blink of an eye and the film transitions just as quickly to Act II where Hiddleston makes his true debut.  Over a long narration from Nick Offerman, we learn what we had seen in glimpses in the previous Act that Chuck is dying from cancer – though the Chuck of Act II does not know that quite yet – and that the apocalypse we witnessed was the world inside of his head crumbling to pieces.  The second act, though, swaps the blue, nighttime color palate for a sun drenched one as we follow Chuck making his way through an outdoor mall during the lunch hour of an accounting conference.  There, set up on the corner, is Taylor (The Pocket Queen), on her drum looking for donations.  In a spur of the moment, Chuck begins to dance with the music, at first in a long solo, but then welcoming in Janice (Annalise Basso) who is nursing a broken heart after her boyfriend broke up with her the night before when she thought he was going to propose.  The duet stretches this dancing number that fits the film but leaves audiences beguiled into way too long of a sequence that does not seem to be leading towards anything specific and is no where near as memorable or as richly colored as the golden age numbers which it is aping.  It is perfectly inoffensive, but it stalls the narrative right when it was beginning to take shape and makes for a dangerous “getting off point” for audiences not totally sold on what Flanagan is doing. 

Almost as soon as Hiddleston entered the film, he makes his exit as Act III fills in the man’s tragic backstory allowing Cody Flanagan, Benjamin Pajak, and finally Jacob Tremblay to fill the role of a younger Chuck.  This final act is the longest of the three, occupying almost the entire back half of the film which really allows us to begin to invest in the story and the characters, and it is here where the film begins filling in the gaps and making connections across the scope of this one man’s life, both real and imagined.  Flanagan carefully and adeptly threads the needle, and his successful run in layered limited series pays off here as he is able to resolve all of these little micro-mysteries with ease.  Surprisingly, though, The Life of Chuck never feels like television in how it is shot (Eben Bolter, cinematographer), cut (Flannagan pulling triple duty), or in its run time. 

As for the actual story, it is quite effective, even if it does get a little gratuitous with itself in building up the mystery of the cupola that is strictly and absolutely off limits to Chuck by his accountant grandfather, Albie (Mark Hamill), citing structural integrity, but there seems to be something more simmering just below the surface of that excuse; something that will leak out after a few too many pours from the bourbon bottle some evening.  His comical gruffness is tempered by his wife, Chuck’s grandmother, Sarah’s (Mia Sara) immeasurable sweetness.  Whereas Albie instills a calculated love of numbers on the impressionable young boy, Sarah allows a love for the arts and music to bloom within him.  In a set that is dressed and lit like a clash between Norman Rockwell and Thomas Kinkade, this is where the film is at its most cheeky, more so than the first act which seemed to be a bit more directly in conversation with today’s world, but by focusing on the past the story can branch out in its own direction.  The three young actors playing Chuck in this final act have a lot to do as the act is practically an entire coming of age film, shrunk down to so as not to exceed a two hour total run time.  That, much like in Act II, much of that run time is spent showing off Chuck’s moves on the dance floor does test audiences patience, but unlike the earlier iteration that acted as its own entity and actively shrugged off context, these dance scenes play out in service of something larger as Chuck uses the dance club to get closer to Cat (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss). 

Flanagan’s film is a strange one, and one that should not work nearly as well as it does. It is a simple story that presents itself as a complex puzzle box, playing backwards in time and drawing soft and fast allusions to David Fincher‘s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) in the process. Bolstered by strong performances and an unshakably interesting kernel of an idea at the heart of it all The Life of Chuck is a real diamond in the rough, albeit one that has not been polished and tumbled yet. There is a charm about the film, however, that keeps us invested, not only because it taps into some of our real-world anxieties, but it does so in a softer way as opposed to some of the more abrasive, doomsayer takes. Steve Arnold’s production design is easy to nestle into so the mystery feels almost playful at first, and when that gives way to the nostalgic final chapter, we feel as if we are flipping back through the annals of Chuck’s memory as if they were our own. Aside from being a touch overwritten and some minor pacing issues, The Life of Chuck is a true delight that manages to warm even the coldest of demeanors with is absolute sincerity.