The life and times of an accountant are traced across the years in the magically fantastic and joyous The Life of Chuck, adapted by Mike Flanagan from the Stephen King novella.
No filmmaker understands Stephen King quite as well as Mike Flanagan. No slag to Frank Darabont; The Green Mile remains my favorite King movie. Flanagan can dig through the prose to find and expose the beating heart within, expertly crafting characters and situations from the page to the screen. So much of why King works is internal; creating full characters of ordinary (even for a page before they die), and how they work through extraordinary situations, ones that could be purposely tropey. When the details are stripped away, it leaves the generic. A great adaptor keeps this connection without losing narrative drive.
Flanagan revels in the challenge of adapting the “unadaptable,” first with Gerald’s Game, then Doctor Sleep; deftly making a sequel to both the very different book and movie of The Shining (Rose the Hat is an All-Time-Villain). Heck, Midnight Mass is not King, but a great mix of ‘Salem’s Lot, Revival, and Storm of the Century. An adaptation of The Dark Tower looms. Now, Flanagan writes and directs“The Life of Chuck” from 2020’s collection Let It Bleed, turning away from horror (mostly) in favor of drama with a tinge of the supernatural. Many of King’s best works on film and the page are not horror: The Green Mile and Shawshank Redemption were given life by Darabont, and Rob Reiner’s Stand By Me from The Body. Life of Chuck joins that pantheon.
Flanagan builds a beautiful, heartfelt, magical story of connection, of living life through the ups and downs, of memory, of what we lose and find. Filled with wonder from a strong script (often line by line from the novella), sharp cinematography, and a troupe of amazing performers, The Life of Chuck is one of the year’s best.
What would be hard to adapt? For one, it has an unconventional narrative, finding several short arcs, working mostly backwards across the life of Chuck; often told via voice-over narration (read with dry wit by Nick Offerman). Essentially, three short films connect to form a whole: watching the world crash, Chuck wows with an impromptu public dance, and young Chuck learns to dance and live. Each is a tight insight into life. Going into them individually would be telling how a magician does her trick: it’s a wonder. 
Heck, the first story isn’t Chuck’s life, but those in a world falling apart around them. Chiwetel Ejiofor and Karen Gillan are a former couple making peace with the end of the world. It’s an eerily present sort of terrifying, as all our fears of climate change, war, disease, loss of technology, and more all cascade to a seeable end. There is a deeply sad, powerful, utterly terrifying tone of the cosmic unknowable, grounded with the pair as they gaze into the coming abyss. It’s a scary prospect, one on all of our minds; what does the future hold when it looks bleak?
On its own, “Part 3” is a great short film, but it also sets up the themes of finding connection and beauty, the joy in the darkness, and a poignancy that threads through the film. Mostly without the titular character, but as the world fails, Chuck appears with increasingly numbered billboards, TV ads, graffiti, and soon a pressing overness. The ubiquitous photo of an unassuming accountant with “Chuck Krantz. 39 Great Years! Thanks, Chuck” emblazoned nearby is straight from King’s oeuvre, unnerving overwhelming forces pervade – ALL HAIL THE CRIMSON KING – but unlike terror of his looming villains, Chuck emits a strange… hope, even as it reveals a sick Chuck. Who is this man, dying on a hospital bed, seemingly taking the rest of the world with him?
The Life of Chuck is told via the remaining episodes. Across them, Flanagan and King give a joyous life and a sense of love and loss. There is a precise sharpness in creating and exploring Chuck and everyone he comes across, as Tom Hiddleston’s adult and Benjamin Pajak at 10, mostly, and briefly by Jacob Tremblay and Cody Flanagan. Characters, even if just for a single scene, are well drawn and full (as King is wont to do). It’s beautiful watching it unfold, both as a story and the design. Eben Bolter’s cinematography gives a bright wonder in the growth of Chuck, but also the soft loss of the first portion; it’s encompassing and tone-setting, a great example of the look driving a film without being overbearing.
One aspect threatens to take the air out of the film, but Flanagan skill makes it work; even if parts are a little too on the nose; implied in the novella and directly stated in the film. In other hands, it may be smaltzy and overly done, but here it is sincere and perfectly toeing the line of sentimentality; each loss is deeply felt, and every revelation is bright; smoothly understated.
Flanagan has gathered an amazing stable of performers. Hiddleston is the big name, the face of the film, our introduction to Chuck, giving soul with a look. But Benjamin Pajak, as a young Chuck, is a revelation. He sells wonder and kindness and natural fear of growing up and taking needed steps (in dance and life) with a trusting ease. A newcomer to the screen, but award-winning on the Broadway stage, Pajak has a wonderful career to leap into. As his grandparents, Mark Hamill gives one of his best performances with a gravel-voiced gravitas, and Mia Sara is on fire. I’ve used the word Joy a great deal in this write-up, but Sara embodies it with her wide eyes and electric smile.
Around them are a series of small perfections. Matthew Lillard emotionally monologues with a fearful heart; Heather Langenkamp garners levity, as do Harvey Guillen and David Dastmalchian. Flanagan returners, Carl Lumbly, Rahul Kohli, Violent McGraw, Samantha Sloyan, and Flanagan’s wife Kate Siegel make icons of small parts. Small bits build, weave the tapestry of our lives, how many people come and go and make an effect? Life of Chuck uses these to create our multitudes.
Mike Flanagan’s Life of Chuck, from the Stephen King novella, is a deeply emotional film. Flanagan uses his incredible skill to craft an affecting, unconventional narrative, deftly gifting viewers a tale of highs and lows, life and love, loss and rebuilding; all built on astounding performances, especially in Benjamin Pajak. Life of Chuck is a fantasy so splendid you want to spontaneously dance out of the theater.
Mike Flanagan. 13 great projects. Thanks Mike!