The Life of Chuck

Director: Mike Flanagan
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill, Mia Sara, Nick Offerman, Carl Lumbly, Benjamin Pajak, Jacob Tremblay, Annalise Basso, Taylor Gordon, Kate Siegel, Samantha Sloyan, Trinity Bliss, Matthew Lillard, Violet McGraw, Heather Langencamp, David Dastmalchian, Cody Flanagan, Q'orianka Kilcher, Antonio Raul Corbo, Molly C. Quinn, Michael Trucco, Carla Gugino, Lauren LaVera
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers**

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

In a year that's seen no shortage of Stephen King's work on screen, the feeling is that most of his films fit into one of two categories. Although he's best known for straightforward horror, it always seems to be the others that stop you dead in your tracks, forcing a double take to confirm it's his name appearing above the credits. But it wasn't until The Shawshank Redemption hit theaters in 1994 that perceptions of the author really started to change, earning him full respect outside the horror genre. And now we can properly credit this evolution for helping clear the path for Mike Flanagan's The Life of Chuck, one of the strongest King adaptations ever lensed. 

Based on a novella from the writer's 2020 short story collection, If It Bleeds, the film fearlessly explores the minutiae of everyday life, carefully walking a delicate line that separates mysticism from reality. And it comes from a director who's no stranger to King's material, having helmed Gerald's Game and The Shining's surprisingly well received sequel, Doctor Sleep, both of which share little in common with this. But who is Chuck? The answer is simpler than we expect, yet also much deeper and more profound. Every scene, moment and line of dialogue revolves around this title character, even when you're lulled into thinking otherwise. It's all about him, and in a strangely cosmic sense, also us. 

Middle school teacher Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is having an awful day, even as many around the globe are suffering far worse. California was just struck by a catastrophic 9.2 earthquake, the internet is out worldwide, cars are falling into sink holes and suicides are way up. It could be the end and he's stuck sitting through unpleasant parent-teacher conferences when not being bombarded by billboards, commercials and advertisements thanking an accountant named Charles "Chuck" Krantz for "39 Great Years!' Marty's ex-wife Felicia Gordon (Karen Gillan), a nurse at the local hospital, isn't faring any better, with the pair leaning on each other during what could be their last days. 

Flashing back some months earlier, we follow a middle-aged Chuck (Tom Hiddleston), who while attending a banking conference has a spontaneous musical moment involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon) and red-haired young woman (Annalise Basso) in the midst of a bad breakup. From there, we get a look at Chuck's childhood spent living with his kind but alcoholic grandfather Albie (Mark Hamill) and free spirited grandmother Sarah (Mia Sara) following the death of his parents and unborn baby sister. Torn between an interest in dance and Albie's insistence on a more practical path, Chuck is sternly warned by him to stay out of the house's locked cupola, only further piquing the boy's curiosity.  

Told in reverse chronological order, those expecting the life affirming tale hinted at in the trailers may initially be taken aback by an apocalyptic parable along the lines of a moodier, more philosophical Leave The World Behind. But the worst way to approach any of this is literally, like a puzzle in need of solving. Better described as the series finale of a life, there are clues, just not related to what you'd assume, some of which are caught on a second watch once the whole story's played out. 

Even when we struggle to process how much of the opening act's cataclysmic disaster is actually real, Marty and Felicia's sinking feelings of dread and hopelessness remain a constant. Exes with only each other to lean on as they try to process all that's happening during a deep late night conversation, the substance of their talk proves important later. We'll also meet other shaken residents, like Marty's manic neighbor Gus (Matthew Lillard), kindly, dignified town mortician Sam (Carl Lumbly), depressed single father Josh (David Dastmalchian) and a reappearing young girl on roller skates (Violet McGraw). 

With the situation worsening, a distracted Marty and Felicia still can't seem to figure out who this "Chuck" guy is or why his pleasant, bespeckled mug is everywhere of late, including through the illuminated windows of neighborhood homes. Becoming as ubiquitous as Truman Burbank, he's not old enough to be retiring so there's clearly something else going on. But as achingly believable as Ejiofor and Gillan are in these roles, they'll exit stage left when it's time to meet Chuck. 

In the first of Flanagan's many carefully calibrated tonal shifts, the story enters uncharted territory with the introduction of mild mannered insurance agent Chuck, who's briefly played by Hiddleston in a part smaller than you'd expect, but no less monumental. His encounter with this street drummer and bystander comes delightfully out of nowhere, with the actor gradually conveying all the complicated, inexplicable emotions flowing through Chuck in that moment.

This is also when Nick Offerman's narrator emerges as a character unto himself, supplying pointed and poignant observations lifted directly from King's prose. The actor's deep baritone and droll, bemused delivery is immediately recognizable when delivering a sarcastic, occasionally hilarious commentary that disproves the ridiculous theory all voice overs are lazy. Anything can be mishandled, but A Christmas Story and Arrested Development would probably like a word since both serve as a template for how Offerman deftly adds to the verisimilitude of Flanagan's universe.

Carefully placed but never overused, the narration builds and memorably punctuates certain scenes, like when tracking the three strangers as they cross paths in the spectacular, impromptu dance sequence that means more than we initially think. The thrilling choreography and performances provide a wake-up call, putting viewers on notice that the film's turned an unpredictable corner. But what's scarier is how it'll later be topped by an even better one. 

Joy begets tragedy when Chuck's childhood is drastically altered following his parents' death. Played by three different actors at separate ages, the heaviest lifting comes from a revelatory Benjamin Pajak as the 11-year-old version. And while he's nearly unrecognizable behind a scraggly, walrus-like mustache, Mark Hamill gives the performance of his career as Albie, at one point turning a speech that extols the virtues of mathematics into quiet devastation for a grandson whose ambitions are squashed in an instant. But in embodying this flawed but well meaning grandfather with such sincerity, we believe his advice comes from the right place, despite how visibly painful it is for the boy to hear.    

That moment puts everything previously shown into proper perspective, helping explain why Chuck stops at the sound of those drums later on the street as an adult, surrendering to a love that's laid dormant for decades as he pursued a more conventional career path. But many of his interests stem from his movie musical obsessed grandmother Sarah, a practical voice of wisdom and reason he always felt more connected to than Albie, mainly because she's so much fun. In her first acting role in over a decade, Ferris Bueller and Legend star Mia Sara doesn't get a ton of screen time, but does she ever make the most of it, her character's presence and impact reverberating long after she's left the picture. 

A seemingly superfluous side plot involving Chuck's extracurricular dance club hits hardest, forming the crux of the story's importance and bookending what that came before. This is Flanagan's finest hour, depicting the pangs of adolescence with relatable humor and heartbreaking nostalgia, avoiding the sappiness that would sink lesser films of a similar ilk. It's also full of small moments you don't want to see end, from Chuck's unforgettable interaction with hippie teacher Miss Richards (Kate Siegel) to his crush on taller, older dance partner Cat (Trinity Bliss) that culminates in the film's most moving scene. Everything about it is pure magic, including Chuck getting just the right advice from the coach (Samantha Sloyan) during a sudden attack of fear and insecurity. And while there's real doubt how things will turn out, the pay off is exhilarating, with Offerman's narrator capping it all off with a perfect line that encapsulates a kind of memory that can't be described. 

Invoking elements from The Tree of Life and even Robert Zemeckis's Here, Flanagan gives the material a Spielbergian touch by celebrating the profound intricacies of human experience in ways that speaks directly to mainstream moviegoers. With cinematographer Eben Bolter expertly conveying each chapter's distinctive look and The Newton Brothers' sweeping score carrying us through, it feels like the type of dramatic fantasy that would have blown theatergoers away in the 90's and 00's. Bubbling just under the surface is this mystery that comes to a head in its closing minutes, pulling back the curtain with a reveal that leaves you gasping for air as the credits roll. 

Between an off-putting title, its inexplicable 'R' rating, poor promotion and getting dumped into theaters a year after winning the top prize in Toronto, it's obvious the studio didn't have a clue how to sell a film this adventurous. A meditation on life and death in reverse, shocking developments and surprising performances pop up at every turn, forcing viewers to question the journey they're really on. And with a myriad of tiny details left for discovery on repeated viewings, it saves the best act for last, making it a rarity among King's prolific output.                         

Captain Fantastic

Director: Matt Ross
Starring: Viggo Mortensen, Frank Langella, Kathryn Hahn, Steve Zahn, George MacKay, Samantha Isler, Annalise Basso, Nicholas Hamilton, Shree Crooks, Charlie Shotwell, Trin Miller, Erin Moriarty, Missi Pyle, Ann Dowd
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Captain Fantastic addresses so many issues that feel so "here" and "now" it's almost downright uncomfortable at times. And if nothing else, it's blunt. As direct and upfront as the controversial title character, Matt Ross' film seems to play by its own rules while asking the audience which rules they'd rather play by, if any at all.  It joins 10 Cloverfield Lane, as one of the few releases this year that could double as a veiled social commentary on the current political climate. But this is operating at an entirely different, more thought-provoking level. It first it comes off as kind of a call-to-arms, with a protagonist's complete rejection of a society protecting and coddling their "snowflake" children while isolating them from any kind of self-sufficiency. Then the narrative zigs and zags in different directions, asking deeper questions before arriving at a conclusion that should infuriate as many as it elates.

Supposedly, Steve Jobs despised the phrase, "That's just what people do," writing it off as a lazy explanation for decisions and behavior unaccompanied any questions, only helping to further promote a thoughtless, herd mentality. It's likely Viggo Mortensen's title character would wholeheartedly agree, with views and philosophies for raising his children that fall way out of line with contemporary society's. A couple of decades ago it may not have seemed as extreme, but in a more politically correct than ever 2016, it's downright shocking. And there are undeniably many instances where his unorthodox methods qualify as dangerous and abusive, regardless of the era. Then there are those other moments when some of his ideas, against our better judgment, really make a certain amount of sense and we've perhaps moved too far away from them. Regardless, it's clear most parents would kill to have the connection this man has with his kids. But when the real question of how far his rights extend as a single dad to determine what's best for his sons and daughters' well being, the waters become even murkier. There are no easy answers or pat resolutions here, but boy am I grateful there's a movie with enough guts to ask the questions.

Following his wife Leslie's hospitalization for mental illness, Ben Cash (Mortensen) is raising his six kids, Bo (George MacKay), Kielyr (Samantha Isler), Vespyr (Annalise Basso), Rellian (Nicholas Hamilton), Zaja (Shree Crooks), and Nai (Charlie Shotwell), alone in the Pacific Northwest wilderness. Living off the land, he instills in his children survivalist skills while also home schooling them literature, philosophy, science, history, foreign languages and physical education. But when Leslie takes her own life and Ben and the kids want to attend her funeral, he has a decision to make. Blaming Ben for Leslie's death, his wealthy, estranged father-in-law Jack (Frank Langella) warns him an appearance will result in his arrest and potential loss of parental custody. Never one to back down to the privileged, he takes the kids on a road trip in their bus, exposing them for the first time to the capitalist city life he and his late wife consciously removed their family from.  And it's only when they start dipping their feet into the waters that are the "real world," to carry out Leslie's dying wishes, are the full consequences of Ben's parenting style evident, as are it's positive and negative effects on these unusually bright kids.

It's rare to find a film where it's tough to determine exactly what could happen next before finding out that it could be anything. In Captain Fantastic, that's mostly attributable to the unpredictability of Ben and the many different shades Mortensen brings to this conflicted character. There really is a feeling that he's not only driving the van for this road trip, but the entire narrative since so much of it revolves around how he stubbornly shapes the lives of his children, both to their benefit and eventual detriment. He's strict and inflexible, yet at the same time manages to show them a surprising amount of respectful affection that's never anything less than completely authentic.

There's much to admire in how much he thinks these kids can handle if he's simply matter-of-fact, even straightforwardly explaining to his six-year-old exactly what "rape" is despite her being at an age where she doesn't need to hear it, or arguably shouldn't. When that invariably leads to her asking about "sexual intercourse," he responds similarly, with solid facts unaccompanied by any kind of judgment. Whether or not it's an appropriate topic of conversation, there's less doubt that this was the most effective way to do it. Ben just doesn't want to hear teen daughter Kielyr talk about her recent reading of Lolita in terms of what it's about. He wants to know what it's really ABOUT and how she interpreted it. And as usual, the word "interesting" is forbidden since, you know, it doesn't mean anything.

As played by Mortensen, Ben's such an easy, laid-back character to root for that you want to look past the holes in his philosophy that manifest when they make a stop at his sister (Kathryn Hahn) and brother-in-law's (Steve Zahn) house. How they've raised their two sons seems to represent the kind of protective coddling Ben and Leslie rallied against when they moved their family off the grid to escape a smothering, materialistic society. When Ben and the kids arrive, it's two extremes trying to co-exist at one dinner table and the result is not only emotionally combustible, but illuminating in how it reveals just how much of life his kids are missing out on, despite the number of books they've all read, wildlife they've hunted or weapons they've brandished.

Whatever real life experience has been gained by these kids, few of it has actually been applied, to the point where Ben, in all his best efforts to raise independent, free-thinking, self-sufficient offspring, could unintentionally be realizing his worst fears by sheltering them in a bubble. It's perhaps most apparent with the eldest, Bo, who has his first, awkward experience even talking to a girl (played by Erin Moriarty) on this road trip and greatly fears revealing his college ambitions to his dad. Younger teen Rellian hates his father's methods altogether and would far rather live like a normal kid and play video games than celebrate fictitious holidays like "Noam Chomsky Day."

Ben's father-in-law isn't depicted as a sneering, one-dimensional villain angling to take his grandchildren away to settle a grudge over his deceased daughter. He does want to take them, but perhaps for very valid reasons and the events that unfold as a result of it feel more painfully realistic than the over-the-top movie confrontation we'd expect. Ben's a good man who cares deeply for his kids while Jack's concerns about the safety and future of his grandchildren come from an equally sincere place. It also helps that Langella plays these scenes just right, expertly walking a fine line other equally subtle actors couldn't in only a few scenes. Then there's the issue of how much say Ben should really have in upholding his late wife's wishes considering her precarious mental state would almost have to call those into serious question. None of this feels easy and Matt Ross' screenplay doesn't insult us by implying otherwise.

Filled with plenty of lighthearted moments and laughs, it would still be inaccurate to categorize this as anything but a drama since the ground it covers is thematically much deeper than it appears on the surface. Viggo may be the anchor in a tricky, multi-faceted role that could have gone wrong in a number of ways, but the kids are good too. George MacKay, previously a strong presence in Stephen King's 11.22.63 miniseries from earlier this year, brings a loony, sincere naivete to Bo while Samantha Isler is also a standout as Kielyr, channelling a sort of Shailene Woodley in training. The much discussed ending is somewhat brave, keeping with the spirit and tone set from the start. Three quarters of the way through, you think you know exactly where it's going, and had it ended that way, we'd still have a perfectly fine film. But it would be one with a rather black and white message that wouldn't lend itself to the type of discussion the film's still generating and should continue to.

This all does feel more like a writing achievement than a directorial one, and while you could argue whether the execution lives up to the magnitude of its ideas, it lays claim to something few other 2016 films can: Cultural Relevancy. It feels significant in how it turns a mirror to our society, coming closer to pinpointing the sociopolitical rift that's developed in this country than most works this year. It's almost scary how its finger rests on the pulse, going so far as to anticipate a discussion that's only now starting to permeate our culture in a major way. It could be read as a warning on the dangers of extremism in either direction and a call for compromise. But however you describe Captain Fantastic, just don't call it "interesting."