“I am large, I contain multitudes.” Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
The prolific poet’s profound contemplation on life forms the basis of filmmaker Mike Flanagan’s adaptation of Stephen King’s novella The Life of Chuck. The result is a refreshing, hope-filled cinematic tale bolstered by emotional and committed performances from a supremely talented cast helmed by Tom Hiddleston and Chiwetel Ejiofor. No stranger to transferring King’s stories to the big and small screen, having both Gerald’s Game and Doctor Sleep under his belt, Flanagan seems to have just the right feel for the material and brings out the very best the writer has to offer—be it a macabre melodrama or a more optimistic exploration of our place in the cosmos.
The story unfolds via three separate yet equally essential acts, but in an unorthodox twist, they unfold in reverse order. We’re first introduced to Marty (Ejiofor) and Felicia (Karen Gillan), a divorced couple trying to keep calm and hang together as the world seems suddenly on the brink of collapse. As the community tries to adapt to the massive, worrying changes, it seems they’re unable to get away from a man named Charles Krantz (Hiddleston). The accountant’s face begins appearing on billboards, television and radio ads, and even in windows, wishing him luck after 39 years on the job. No one seems to know who he is or why his likeness is so prevalent now, at the seeming end of all things.
We’re slowly introduced to this mystery man, with some assistance from Nick Offerman’s superb narration, going all the way back to Chuck’s childhood spent with grandfather Albie (Mark Hamill) and grandmother Sarah (Mia Sara), who teach him about the art of numbers and instil in him a love of dancing. There are elements of the fantastical to be found here in the form of a family secret locked away in the attic room of the protagonist’s childhood home, but the film is more deeply rooted and focussed on the wondrously simple moments and conversations that form the basis of Chuck’s life and his memories. There’s grief and melancholy to be found, but there are also happy and heart-warming scenes of kindness and support from friends, family, teachers, and even strangers.
In crafting a cinematic tale about this one specific man, Flanagan (and King in his novella) has delved into a universal truth about what makes us human. As stalwart scientist Carl Sagan reminds us at several points in Chuck, we are all on this planet for what is essentially just the blink of an eye. We’re often so caught up in the hustle and the grind that we take for granted the rare simplicity of the world around us and the opportunity we’ve been given to be apart of something so profound. But tragedy, time and experience have led Chuck to maybe be more appreciative of those small moments—momentous and even the mundane—that make life worth living. It’s a profound lesson the film relates with a clear-eyed optimism rarely seen in 2024.
Some more jaded viewers may find the story somewhat simplistic and even trite, but the film’s sincerity and Flanagan’s deft hand make it anything but. He’s ably aided by a host of touching performances from his capable cast, with the four actors taking on the role of Chuck (Hiddleston, Jacob Tremblay, Benjamin Pajak, and Cody Flanagan) particularly nailing the evolution and maturation of a young man who is at once singular and completely ordinary. Then there’s Annalise Basso and The Pocket Queen (musician Taylor Gordon), who are both radiant in an Act 2 set piece that is truly and spectacularly joyous to behold. To give away more about that particular sequence would be to ruin the fun, but just know that it also serves as proof that Hiddleston is a true triple threat. It helps too, that Flanagan’s script provides so much for the actors to work with, while not feeling indulgent or over-wrought in any way. Even the smallest role seems essential to the story, and every line of dialogue proves effective in establishing a clearer picture of Chuck’s life.
In fact, the attention to detail across the production is impressive and provides ample payoff to audience members who revel in the small things. A seemingly inconsequential prop in one scene may provide an “aha!” moment down the line; a song on the radio or a film on a TV will help sharpen focus later on.
Come to think of it, sitting down to watch The Life of Chuck is not your usual passive, movie-going experience. The more you give to this charming story, and the more you pay attention, the more you’ll get back. You may even find yourself a bit in awe of the message at its heart and how it sticks with you. Because we do all contain multitudes. And Chuck is a potent reminder of the disservice we do to ourselves when we don’t take the time we’re given to truly appreciate and explore those precious inner and outer worlds.
