THE LIFE OF CHUCK. The Pursuit of Happyness

The Life of Chuck begins almost like another episode of The Twilight Zone. More areas of California are sinking, power outages become more frequent, global civilization is gradually collapsing — everyone is slowly preparing for the impending end. However, Marta Anderson’s teacher notices an image that doesn’t fit this pandemonium — billboards and media messages about a certain Chuck Krantz, thanking him for “39 wonderful years.” Neither Marta nor those close to him have the slightest idea who the man whose face they see everywhere is.

Mike Flanagan, faithfully following Stephen King’s literary original, quickly explains to viewers who Chuck Krantz is — showing his life non-chronologically, from the moment of his premature death back to his childhood, turning the story from a mysterious thriller into a warm, bittersweet slice-of-life drama. The director combines several King-like tendencies and storytelling modes in the film — although the movie primarily rests on charming, effortless interactions between characters and everyday vignettes, they are always underpinned by a darkness lurking beneath the surface.

Like the novella, Flanagan’s film is divided into three acts, connected by the titular character, an unassuming accountant who finds meaning in the simplest things — spontaneous dancing to the rhythm played by a street drummer or daily chats with his grandparents. Viewers who fell in love with King’s work after watching The Shawshank Redemption or The Green Mile should not be disappointed. Others may criticize the creators for excessive sentimentality and overly manipulative emotional play.

It is true that the voiceover narration lifted directly from the original (read by Nick Offerman) occasionally borders on tautology, and in the final scene, a more cynical viewer may see not a celebration of life with all its aspects but naive denial of reality. The biggest problem with the film, however, stems from the fact that Flanagan somewhat too eagerly fills in what was left open to interpretation in the novella. The main metaphor of the film is explained quite quickly, so the continuation sometimes feels like going around in circles. These observations, however, are mostly just fan nitpicking.

Ultimately, Flanagan’s faithfulness to the letter of the original serves him well. Dialogues and narrator monologues transplanted from the novella bring some of King’s biting humor to the film, and the reversal of the chronological order addresses, in a way, the recurring criticism of the author’s disappointing endings. Meanwhile, clichés about “enjoying life” come alive on screen thanks to the emotional sincerity of the creators and a fantastically chosen cast. Tom Hiddleston, Benjamin Pajak, and Jacob Tremblay, who play Chuck, manage to convey the character’s apparent reserve, beneath which lie immense reserves of kindness toward the world. In supporting roles, two “marital” duos shine — Mark Hamill and Mia Sara as the grandparents nicely balance the contrasting characters of their roles, while Chiwetel Ejiofor and Karen Gillan, appearing in the prologue, turn the story of the approaching apocalypse into a poignant love story. Doctor Sleep and Gerald’s Game have already shown that Flanagan can translate King’s prose to the screen like few others — maintaining fidelity to the original while marking it with his own auteur style. The Life of Chuck only confirms this reputation, reminding us of the more emotional side of the writer’s work. This is especially valuable now, a few months after the release of the horror-comedy adaptation of Monkey and in anticipation of adaptations of the dystopian The Long Walk and The Running Man.

Skeptics will likely say that Stand by Me remains the best adaptation of “sentimental King” (and they are probably right), but that does not change the fact that Flanagan’s film is a crowd-pleaser in the best sense of the word — full of warmth and sympathy for its characters, yet never turning away from the darker elements of the story. As a King fan, I couldn’t ask for more. Written by Jędrzej Paczkowski