By Ezra Haber Glenn
The Life of Chuck, directed by the notable Mike Flanagan, screens across movie theaters in New England, captivating audiences with its ambitious premise. Yet, while the film explores intriguing themes, it ultimately teeters on the edge of **schmaltz over depth**, leaving viewers yearning for more impact.
A scene from The Life of Chuck. Photo: courtesy of Neon
The Ingenious Mind Behind the Story
Stephen King, whose extensive catalog boasts 65 novels and hundreds of short stories, has long been a maestro of storytelling. Featuring plots that interweave vivid characters with beautifully crafted prose, it’s no surprise that his work has been adapted into countless films—55 adaptations and counting, according to ScreenRant. Yet, adaptations can be a double-edged sword; too loose a connection to the source material leads to discontent among die-hard fans, while excessive fidelity often swamps the cinematic experience.
King’s The Life of Chuck promises a unique angle, being originally published as three interlinked chapters in the collection If It Bleeds. It navigates life’s journey through an inverted timeline, chronicling Chuck’s story from death back to life. Flanagan’s intent manifests in an ambitious narrative structure, reminiscent of classics like Boyhood and Tree of Life, yet struggles to resonate effectively.
Life Through a Non-Linear Lens
A Mixed Bag of Emotion
This film endeavors to unfold the extraordinary story of an ordinary man, capturing fleeting moments with poetic grace. The cast—led by Chiwetel Ejiofor—delivers commendable performances, especially in the first act. Ejiofor’s portrayal of Chuck, navigating the strange realities of life and death, is both layered and relatable. He skillfully balances a whirlwind of emotions, posing profound existential inquiries as his world unravels, tugging at viewers’ heartstrings.
However, the film gradually veers into the territory of predictability and sentimentality. As the narrative progresses, the opening intrigue gives way to clichés and a less satisfying resolution, echoing the nostalgic tones of classics like The Wonder Years.
A Self-Indulgent Narrative?
Flanagan’s previous adaptations, such as Gerald’s Game and the acclaimed Doctor Sleep, showcase his capacity for crafting compelling stories within King’s universe. However, here, the pacing falters, and the emotional beats, though sincere, drift toward being excessively sweet. A quintessential outdoor dance scene might strike some as charming, yet it veers dangerously close to a glib social media moment, undercutting the film’s earlier sincerity.
The Pitfalls of Sentimentality
With scenes reminiscent of Dead Poets Society and an overzealous voiceover narration from Nick Offerman, the film leans heavily into sentimental territory. While art that celebrates life’s simplicity can be rewarding, in this instance, it feels cumbersome. There’s an alarming absence of artistic subtlety; viewers are handed their conclusions rather than invited to draw them themselves.
The Final Verdict: A Missed Opportunity
Despite its heartfelt intentions, The Life of Chuck ultimately showcases a frustratingly missed opportunity. With the perfect blend of talent, sturdy cinematography, and intriguing themes, its shortcomings stand glaringly apparent. The narrative doesn’t necessarily lack drama or compelling plot; what’s missing is a commitment to artistic depth and complexity.
Recommendations
If you seek a sci-fi feel-good film that delves into life’s deeper meanings and existential questions, consider streaming Arrival (2016) instead. Flanagan’s The Life of Chuck may not be the triumph enthusiasts hoped for, but it serves as a testament to the challenges of capturing King’s magic on screen.
Ezra Haber Glenn is a lecturer at MIT’s Department of Urban Studies & Planning, specializing in the intersection of film and urban life. His reviews and essays have appeared in various esteemed publications such as Arts Fuse, CityLab, and New York Observer. For more insights, you can follow him [here](https://www.thecityinfilm.org/).
