I was lucky enough to watch The Life of Chuck with many other Sydneysiders (the cinema was packed!) at its Australian premiere in the Sydney Film Festival. I only knew two things about the film going in. Firstly, that Tom Hiddleston was the titular protagonist, which I’m sure was the main draw for many of the people in the cinema with me, and secondly, that it calls itself science fiction. This is important to note because I was expecting a lot of exciting, futuristic moments, and while the world that Chuck Krantz lives in is very different to ours, I don’t think science fiction is the correct label. Perhaps dystopia, or even the niche genre of existential film, would be a suitable fit.

This is an important distinction to make because audiences come in expecting one thing and seeing another, which misaligns with their intentions and sometimes even disappoints them. I found the pacing a bit slow for science fiction, but for the existential genre, it makes sense that the film lulls you through different ideas.

The Life of Chuck is split into three acts, in reverse order. First, we see the end of the world connected to a man named Chuck, then Chuck’s life as an adult, and finally, as a child. It is essential to note that, through some supernatural entity in his attic, Chuck discovers as a teenager that he has only twenty years to live. The general message seems to be that there is nothing we can do about the end of our lives, but we can make the most of them.

Yes, this sentiment works on its own, but there are several issues with the way it is presented and the message itself. Like I mentioned before, the film suffers from its pacing; I, ashamedly, was constantly checking the time and doing the math of how much longer I would be in the cinema. It is, indubitably, quite a simple sentiment that does not need the entire one hour and forty-one minutes it occupies.

I found the colour grading of the film quite uncomfortable at times. It was too reminiscent of Apple advertisements or an attempt to recreate Technicolour that became uncanny. There may be a hidden meaning here that I have failed to decipher.

There are several charming aspects of the film that I did enjoy. The voiceover was humorous, and the cast and acting choices were well-chosen. You feel for all versions of Chuck, and ex-couple Marty (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Felicia (Karen Gillan) are perhaps the perfect people to follow during this absurd end-of-the-world scenario; easygoing, lovable, and ultimately two ordinary people looking for comfort in hard times.

My main gripe with the film is its philosophical premise. Chuck’s life serves as a microcosm for humanity; as he passes away, his death reflects his vision in the attic, and the universe collapses. This is a reflection of the importance of every individual's life, yes. Still, it also reflects a morbid truth about our reality: that we currently know how humanity is going to end, probably due to climate change or blowing ourselves up. The film makes this very explicit; Marty and Felicia are living through regular earthquakes, no internet, constant wildfires, and an avalanche of apocalyptic imagery.

Yet Chuck does nothing about his death, perhaps because he can do nothing about the brain cancer he is doomed to have. Having this belief about our circumstances is, at best, nihilistic and, at worst, downright dangerous. Optimism is important. We need to think that the world can change to be that change.

This nihilism also ultimately promotes inertia, paralysis, procrastination, and a disregard for what I believe is crucial about political or philosophical film—the call to action. All art is political, but to place philosophy at the root of your work means you are explicitly engaging with politics, and therefore should be attempting to garner action.

One of the greatest films of the 20th century, in my opinion, that does this so well is Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. By the end, you are compelled into violence or non-violence; there is no middle ground, you want some kind of action to take place. The Life of Chuck fails to do this; I think it suffers from a combination of sluggish pacing and its blatant, nihilistic musings. You could probably tie this to capitalism, but I already sound insufferable, so I won’t.

It's still worth a watch. It's clear that a lot of effort went into it as an art form, and I think it's a decisive depiction of how cinema is transforming to fit and respond to what we, as consumers, appreciate as art. The Life of Chuck is not the cause of our inaction; it is a glaring consequence.

Sumaya is a first-year student studying a double degree in Media and Law. She loves watching movies and has even memorised student deals for cinemas across Sydney - you can ask her if you want!