The Life of Chuck (2025)

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”

-Edgar Allan Poe

   Stephen King has been writing horror stories for a little over fifty years. He’s sold more than 350 million book copies and in 40 different languages. Mike Flanagan is no stranger to horror with his Haunting of Hill House series and has adapted some of King’s works. While both King and Flanagan’s works of horror may have scared some, their stories aren’t always about tales of blood. Sometimes its about the heart.

  The Life of Chuck is by no means a horror story. It’s an uplifting tale about finding life in the midst of death, finding joy during times of tribulation. It reminds us that life is a gift, even if that gift may be brief. And all the people that we meet in life? They are gifts as well.

  The world of Chuck is saturated in death and destruction, real life horror. Yet when I walked out of the cinema it had a profound effect on me (and still has) it was the love that I remembered the most. The film is full of optimism. To not look down at our phones constantly, but look at one another. Find connection rather than distraction Most importantly the film encourages us to laugh, to live, and to dance. 

SPOILERS BELOW

The film is split into 3 parts, but goes in reverse. 

Act Three: Thanks Chuck

And so it came, the end. Hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, fires, riots. Piece by piece, the coasts of California slid into the sea. Rage, terror, despair raced ahead, people frantic for safety, or solace, or something. As the disasters continued, everything became… quieter.

The internet and cell service just stopped. The endless suicides stopped. People left work and walked home oddly calm. Hospitals were emptied. Everyone searched for their loved ones. The hunger for connection towards the end. Everyone tried to understand why everything was happening, but one thing stayed constant.

Charles Krantz.

His face stared at you straight from the billboards, smiling. “39 Great Years,” the signs said. “Thanks, Chuck!” Then before the televisions went out there were ads of him sitting at his desk, pen pressed to paper, and fatigue seeping into his face. “39 Great Years. Thanks Chuck!” the voice on the ad says.

Look up in the sky and Skywriters write out Chuck’s salutations in smoke. Even graffiti trumpeted the achievements of Charles Krantz, the words, “Thanks, Chuck!” scrawled across concrete-block walls.

“Our man Krantz is the Oz of the apocalypse,” jokes the funeral director.

But who is this mysterious man? Who is Chuck? No one knows.

Marty Anderson tries to find out, but his inquiries come up empty. It seems that everyone has more important things on their minds. As the world falls apart around Marty, he continues to try to inspire his students to learn. He attempts to tell his student’s parents that their kids still have a future no matter how the world looks at the moment. He was asked if during the end if people would marry or divorce. Without hesitation he says marriage wins. People crave connection now, not separation. He’s a man of principle and optimism. 

 As the cars stop working. Marty makes a long all the way to his ex-wife’s house. He needs to reconcile with her in what feels like the world’s last moment. During his trip he makes it a point to talk to others, not about the weather or how the world is about to die, but to find a real lasting connection that ironically won’t be much longer. He wants to spend the world’s final moments with Janice, his ex-wife. He knows that. The electricity everywhere goes, but digitalized ads of Chuck appear on the windows. He finally finds Janice. They talk with time nearly gone, each second, they spend with one another feels like a treasure. A treasure he should have never left in the first place. He knows this is how he wanted to spend the last seconds before the end. Planets start vanishing in the night sky. Marty and Janice look at one another one last time.

Act Two: Buskers Forever

   We finally meet Chuck in Act II. We learn that Chuck is an accountant, devoted husband, and loving father. Living a life most people strive for. Like most people Chuck has many layers. He’s in town for an accounting conference. He’s on his to the conference when he stops to listen to a drummer play the drums. Tapping his finger in the air, and for a brief moment has a flashback that causes him to dance. People gather around thinking it’s a street performance dance. He sees a girl and pulls her in and dances with her. This lightens the mood compared to the sharp contrast of doom and gloom in the previous act. Chuck begins to have a headache and we are made aware of the trouble brewing on the horizon.

 The dance is a burst of joy, freedom, and spontaneity. Chuck knows life is short, so he decided to fully enjoy life by engaging in something that he loves. Dance is a metaphor for life, a fleeting, joyful manifestation of breath and beat, precision and freedom. 

Act One: I Contain Multitudes

 Chuck’s grandparents help raise him when his parents died in a car crash. His grandmother helped instill in him a love of dance. We find out the flashback he had that made him want to dance was of when he and his grandmother danced in the kitchen when he was a little boy. The love continues into middle school. When his grandmother passed his grandfather pushes Chuck into another direction. Into math. And while the film could’ve easily presented these two dichotomies as a “good” thing and a “bad” thing, that for Chuck to abandon his dancing would be to abandon his dreams, the film doesn’t really do that. 

   Chuck’s grandfather tells a young Chuck that math can also be beautiful. One can experience joy in numbers just as much as one can on the dance floor. Moreover, it can be a profound expression of truth: Math doesn’t lie, Chuck’s grandfather tells him. And it can even tell you things about the future. For instance, math can tell Chuck how difficult it is to make a living as a dancer. Again, some viewers might take his grandfather’s advice as a disheartening wet blanket, but the movie doesn’t really go there. Chuck does become an accountant and a good one. He never expresses dissatisfaction with his career choice. And, of course, that love of dance didn’t disappear once he picked up his spreadsheets. We hear how he danced on stage throughout college, and he doesn’t lose a step when he hits middle age. And that leads to an exuberant, impromptu performance with a couple of strangers during an accounting conference.

  Throughout this act, Chuck wants to get inside his grandparent’s cupola. His grandfather keeps the door to the cupola locked at all times. He believes that it’s haunted and predicts people’s deaths. Chuck eventually unlocks the door and sees a vision of his future self on his deathbed. He decides to focus on living life to the fullest and embraces life without being paralyzed by fear of death.

Conclusion

   The casting is terrific. Nick Offerman’s voice-over narration adds a touch of whimsy in each act. Though Hiddleston is the face of the film, it’s more of an ensemble piece where each actor gets their time to shine, including David Dastmalchian as a single father grieving his wife’s departure and missing Pornhub in Act 3.

  The film was a breath of fresh air. In an age where we are spoon fed everything it’s refreshing to see a film that leaves room for interpretation as we connect themes like death, loss, and love to our own experiences. The Life of Chuck is a beautiful, sweet, poignant existential drama with a simple yet powerful message. Regardless of whether we are aware of when our death is, its up to us to build a vibrant beautiful world for ourselves. I admire how Chuck doesn’t let his grim outlook stop him from fully experiencing life, declaring “I am wonderful, I deserve to be wonderful, and I contain multitudes”.

Life is short and, well, pretty insignificant when you look at the overall picture. So embrace the time given to you.

4.9 out of 5