The Life of Chuck review: dancing through the end of the world
When Mike Flanagan (The Haunting of Hill House, Bly Manor, and Midnight Mass) adapts a Stephen King story, you might expect something spooky. That was true with his takes on Doctor Sleep and Gerald’s Game. It’s not the case with The Life of Chuck, which isn’t trying to creep you out or tap into your darkest nightmares. It’s a story about celebrating what we have while we have it — a feeling encapsulated by a dazzling seven-minute-long dance sequence from Tom Hiddleston.
The Life of Chuck actually starts out as a postapocalyptic tale. When Marty (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a newly divorced high school teacher, is doing his parent / teacher interviews, no one is interested in test scores or behavior issues. Instead, the parents can’t stop talking about whether the internet is really down for good or how California is steadily crumbling into the ocean. One dad is moved to tears thinking about a life without Pornhub. The tragedies are so persistent that they’re impossible to ignore: major cities underwater, wildfires torching huge swaths of land, volcanoes erupting in Germany, and on the very same road that Marty takes to work, sinkholes swallowing up cars.
Then, things get weird. Marty notices a curious billboard thanking some guy named Charles “Chuck” Krantz (Hiddleston) for “39 great years!” There’s no other context. Then the ad appears everywhere. There are TV commercials and radio ads during NPR shows, and at one point, even a skywriter is thanking Chuck for his service. As the ads become more abundant, the world around it gets closer to what seems to be oblivion. Through it all, Marty can’t help but wonder: “Who the hell is Chuck?”
That’s how the film opens, but it’s the third act of The Life of Chuck, which moves in reverse. From there, we learn who Chuck is. He’s a successful accountant nearing 40 who has come to terms with the seeming banality of his life but, every so often, is drawn back to his childhood. That’s when his grandmother instilled a love of dance that blossomed in middle school but ultimately fizzled out.
Then one day, while wandering the streets of Boston after spending all day at a financial conference, he hears a busker wailing on the drums, and he just can’t help himself: he drops his briefcase and starts to dance. It lasts seven whole minutes, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of Hiddleston when he moves. It’s spontaneous and joyful, and he can even pull off a pretty convincing moonwalk. The final act explores a younger Chuck (Jacob Tremblay) as he’s forced to deal with multiple tragedies and finds a way to cope through dance. Pretty soon, it brings things full circle with the film’s strange opening in a way that I won’t spoil.
What’s most remarkable about The Life of Chuck is the journey this structure takes you on. At first, as the world literally crumbles away, it creates a feeling that we’re all small and insignificant. But the rest of the film does the exact opposite: it shows how every life, even those that end far too quickly, is full of depth and wonder. The metaphor isn’t exactly subtle — this is a Mike Flanagan film, after all. And in some ways, The Life of Chuck indulges many of his worst tendencies, not only the lack of subtlety but also a penchant for lengthy monologues and schmaltz. Those elements can occasionally undermine his horror work, but they happen to suit The Life of Chuck perfectly.
Flanagan has always been a storyteller who uses horror as a way of exploring drama in a more heightened state. Here, he simply does away with the horror. The Life of Chuck doesn’t get away from his well-worn habits; rather, it’s an ideal vehicle for them. It’s also a fitting adaptation for another reason: in its very last moments, it turns out to be a haunting ghost story after all.
This review is based on a screening at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. The Life of Chuck currently doesn’t have a theatrical premiere date.
