SPOILERS are ahead for Mike Flanagan’s The Life Of Chuck movie. Go see it in theaters before reading on.
Wow, The Life Is Chuck has to be one of the best 2025 movies, right? While I wasn’t sure what to expect out of the latest of Stephen King adaptations which was made it plain and clear in its trailer it’s not a horror title, I left the theater feeling really affirmed about the beauty and pain that comes with living life, and was very moved by how writer/director Mike Flanagan took me on a journey as an audience member. Even though I watched it a week ago, it’s a movie that’s continued to stick with me, and there’s one element I want to spend some time talking about: the locked room.
The mysterious locked room is first shown in Act III (the first act of the movie in this case) when Chiwetel Ejiofor’s character, Marty Anderson, looks over at it in his home while dealing with the end of days for his world. But the locked room doesn’t start to earn meaning until Act I (the third act of the movie). As I’ve thought about The Life Of Chuck all week, I’ve continued to think about the poetic sentiment surrounding this element of the film, and how it really made the movie special for me.
What Is The Locked Room In The Life Of Chuck?
In Act I of The Life Of Chuck, we learn that everything we watched in Act III was from the brain of an accountant named Chuck in his mind’s “universe” as he was dying at the age of 39. Marty and Felicia were people he knew in his childhood who were witnessing the end of Chuck, and their world as they knew it, as the character died from cancer. So, everything from Act III was taken from Chuck’s life and mind. And in Act I, we find out that the locked room from Act III was specifically from Chuck’s childhood home, where he was raised by his grandparents, Albie and Sarah (played by Mark Hamill, who’s actually done a King adaptation before, and Mia Sara).
Chuck has a lot of curiosity about the locked room, as any child would, and one night, when his granddad is drunk, he gets some information out of him regarding what’s inside. Albie suggests that there are ghosts in that room, and references seeing some people in their community and family who have died. This only makes Chuck more curious about being in the room, and one night he finds a way to open it. But before he can look inside, Albie gets in the way and makes a very concerned, scared face once he opens the door instead of his grandson. But just like Chuck, we don’t see what’s inside.
Later, we learn that inside the room of the locked door, people can see death, and in the case of Albie, he probably saw his death and his wife’s during that final look inside. Chuck then experiences their deaths during his childhood, and at the end of the movie, once they have both died, a teenage Chuck gets the keys to the locked door. When it opens, he sees his own death. But, rather than look at the sight with fear like Albie did, he recites something his teacher told him, which is that “I contain multitudes” and suggests he’ll live his life to the fullest. He is not afraid of the room like his granddad was.
I More Think About The The Locked Room, The More I Realize Its Deeper Meaning
While you could certainly take the ending of The Life Of Chuck literally as there being a ghost story smack in the middle of it, I don’t think it’s supposed to be a literal film at all. As I’ve thought about the device of the locked room more, I’ve realized that it’s a symbol for the ongoing curiosity of death. And I find it so clever that author Stephen King chose to make the locked room something that Chuck is endlessly curious about in his childhood, specifically.
Because wanting to know about how you’ll die oddly does feel like it should be likened to ruminating on a random room in your childhood home. It’s one of those things you simply cannot help thinking about, no matter what you do, but in the end, if you did know, and you opened the door, you’d probably be disappointed with what you saw. Death isn’t something we aspire to, and seeing one’s death doesn’t really change anything. It just will happen, and it exists. It’s absolutely like opening a random room in your house you’re not supposed to go in, because I don’t think how we actually die is going to be as interesting as your mind imagines it might contain. Once we get there, it’s the living we did that matters a lot more.
I Find It So Powerful How Young Chuck Reacted To The Room
So, that brings me to talking about that final moment where teen Chuck (played by Jacob Tremblay) enters the room and sees himself dying. I really love how he reacts, because it is disappointing to him, as it should be. But rather than looking death in the face and being afraid of it, he kind of spites death in a way, by basically announcing how beautiful it is for him to be alive and “contain multitudes.” I love that he doesn’t linger in the room or kind of study the moment of his death that’s in front of him. Rather, he acknowledges that the curiosity is there, and he will die, but doesn’t really give it the time of day.
What a lovely message to be delivered! By the end of the movie, it feels like The Life Of Chuck is trying to remind its audience that while one cannot help but wonder about death, and have to face it one way or the other, death itself isn’t as important as the life you live. I’m so grateful a movie reminded me of this, and I simply cannot wait for more from this year of Stephen King adaptations after being so moved by Mike Flanagan’s movie.