Who Gives a Chuck?
Although considered horror royalty, Stephen King has never been pigeonholed to the genre. From 'Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption' and 'The Body,' to 'The Running Man' (the latter released under the pseudonym Richard Bachman), King has consistently shown a knack for stepping beyond the supernatural to explore the deeply human. In those stories, filmmakers have found some of the richest material to bring to the screen.
Unfortunately, Mike Flanagan's 'The Life of Chuck', based on the novella of the same name, is not another standout entry in the King adaptation canon. A drama with science-fiction and fantasy elements told in reverse chronological order, it details three chapters in the life of a seemingly ordinary man named Charles Krantz, from his youth to his death.
Billed as heart-warming, it's so saccharinely schmaltzy it'll leave you reaching for the antacid. Flanagan's third King adaptation, and easily his worst, the narrative is profoundly unengaging and banal. Although the first chapter shows some promise, it all comes to nothing. The subsequent acts are as underwhelming as a half-inflated balloon. Tonally scattershot, the film is so full of cliches and devoid of life it's genuinely puzzling how it has garnered so much praise.
Just what is the point of 'The Life of Chuck'? What's its purpose? Some reviewers have claimed it speaks volumes about the human condition. It doesn't. Others tout it as a feel-good miracle that might restore faith in humanity. It won't. It's dull, clunky and poorly scripted. Flanagan's dialogue is of the expository variety, when it isn't cliched nonsense.
Additionally, proceedings are saddled with intrusive narration, spelling out the easily inferred themes and emotions, thereby undercutting any chance of subtlety. Further, Flanagan's characterisation is slim to non-existent. Why should we care about Chuck or want to hear about his life? He has all the personality and charm of a snail without a shell.
Throughout his paltry excuse for a narrative, Flanagan seems to be striving for meditations on mortality, memory and the fleeting nature of life. Yet these themes never land, buried beneath heavy-handed exposition, shallow characterisation and sentimental overkill. The film aims to reflect life's truths, but instead feels empty and contrived.
Visually, it is more of an accomplished affair, even if it has that Netflixy sheen, making everything on screen look overly polished and sterile. Director of photography Eben Bolter does manage to evoke some interesting imagery, however, especially in the first chapter. Yet, while his cinematography, the production design and lighting are all competent, they can't compensate for the story's emptiness or lack of emotional engagement.
Unfortunately, the film struggles to find a consistent flow. The first chapter moves at a deliberate, measured pace that works, but the remaining two drag, even though the second is actually quite short. The Newton Brothers' score is unremarkable, failing to enhance any of the emotional beats, while the dance sequences- featured heavily in the second and third chapters- though admittedly well-performed- feel interminably gratuitous.
Tom Hiddleston, first billed and featuring prominently in the marketing, stars as Chuck, though isn't in the film for long. In fact, he's only really in the second chapter. Although he dances well, he fails to create a character of interest in the face of Flanagan's scant characterisation. Anyone could have been as effective in the role with a little bit of dance practice, one fears.
By contrast, Chiwetel Ejiofor does far superior work as a weary teacher, while Karen Gillan brings nuance as his nurse ex-wife, both managing to elevate their thinly written roles. Matthew Lillard and David Dastmalchian also drop in for a scene apiece, damn near stealing the show. Mia Sara and Mark Hamill, meanwhile, shine in the third chapter, as Chuck's grandparents. In addition, Nick Offerman provides the narration, and while his delivery is perfectly serviceable, it ultimately highlights just how unnecessary the device is in the first place.
In short, Mike Flanagan's 'The Life of Chuck' is a misfire of the highest order- dreary, saccharine and devoid of the vitality that makes Stephen King's better non-horror tales endure. Despite flashes of competent craft and a handful of strong supporting turns, it collapses under the weight of its own sentimentality. What might have been a poignant meditation on life instead feels like an overlong eulogy for a man viewers never had a reason to care about. In the end, the only real question left is: who gives a Chuck?
Unfortunately, Mike Flanagan's 'The Life of Chuck', based on the novella of the same name, is not another standout entry in the King adaptation canon. A drama with science-fiction and fantasy elements told in reverse chronological order, it details three chapters in the life of a seemingly ordinary man named Charles Krantz, from his youth to his death.
Billed as heart-warming, it's so saccharinely schmaltzy it'll leave you reaching for the antacid. Flanagan's third King adaptation, and easily his worst, the narrative is profoundly unengaging and banal. Although the first chapter shows some promise, it all comes to nothing. The subsequent acts are as underwhelming as a half-inflated balloon. Tonally scattershot, the film is so full of cliches and devoid of life it's genuinely puzzling how it has garnered so much praise.
Just what is the point of 'The Life of Chuck'? What's its purpose? Some reviewers have claimed it speaks volumes about the human condition. It doesn't. Others tout it as a feel-good miracle that might restore faith in humanity. It won't. It's dull, clunky and poorly scripted. Flanagan's dialogue is of the expository variety, when it isn't cliched nonsense.
Additionally, proceedings are saddled with intrusive narration, spelling out the easily inferred themes and emotions, thereby undercutting any chance of subtlety. Further, Flanagan's characterisation is slim to non-existent. Why should we care about Chuck or want to hear about his life? He has all the personality and charm of a snail without a shell.
Throughout his paltry excuse for a narrative, Flanagan seems to be striving for meditations on mortality, memory and the fleeting nature of life. Yet these themes never land, buried beneath heavy-handed exposition, shallow characterisation and sentimental overkill. The film aims to reflect life's truths, but instead feels empty and contrived.
Visually, it is more of an accomplished affair, even if it has that Netflixy sheen, making everything on screen look overly polished and sterile. Director of photography Eben Bolter does manage to evoke some interesting imagery, however, especially in the first chapter. Yet, while his cinematography, the production design and lighting are all competent, they can't compensate for the story's emptiness or lack of emotional engagement.
Unfortunately, the film struggles to find a consistent flow. The first chapter moves at a deliberate, measured pace that works, but the remaining two drag, even though the second is actually quite short. The Newton Brothers' score is unremarkable, failing to enhance any of the emotional beats, while the dance sequences- featured heavily in the second and third chapters- though admittedly well-performed- feel interminably gratuitous.
Tom Hiddleston, first billed and featuring prominently in the marketing, stars as Chuck, though isn't in the film for long. In fact, he's only really in the second chapter. Although he dances well, he fails to create a character of interest in the face of Flanagan's scant characterisation. Anyone could have been as effective in the role with a little bit of dance practice, one fears.
By contrast, Chiwetel Ejiofor does far superior work as a weary teacher, while Karen Gillan brings nuance as his nurse ex-wife, both managing to elevate their thinly written roles. Matthew Lillard and David Dastmalchian also drop in for a scene apiece, damn near stealing the show. Mia Sara and Mark Hamill, meanwhile, shine in the third chapter, as Chuck's grandparents. In addition, Nick Offerman provides the narration, and while his delivery is perfectly serviceable, it ultimately highlights just how unnecessary the device is in the first place.
In short, Mike Flanagan's 'The Life of Chuck' is a misfire of the highest order- dreary, saccharine and devoid of the vitality that makes Stephen King's better non-horror tales endure. Despite flashes of competent craft and a handful of strong supporting turns, it collapses under the weight of its own sentimentality. What might have been a poignant meditation on life instead feels like an overlong eulogy for a man viewers never had a reason to care about. In the end, the only real question left is: who gives a Chuck?
- reelreviewsandrecommendations
- 24 ago 2025