“The Life of Chuck”: A Celebration in Dance and Math

Tom Hiddleston as a four-eyed accountant looking wistful toward an offscreen sundown.

Has the day arrived when we can watch new Tom Hiddleston projects without joking about Loki variants?

Stephen King is large! He contains multitudes! Your elderly parents’ dismissal of him notwithstanding, he hasn’t been “just” The King of Horror since at least the mid-’80s, though it can be hard to keep in mind considering the King-based film majority. Whenever one of his 60,000 works are adapted into something other than a zero-budget splatterpunk B-movie or modestly funded “elevated horror” streamer-filler, the trailers will always caution, “No, hey, don’t make that face, it’s cool, we promise this isn’t the Stephen King of Sleepwalkers or Maximum Overdrive or The Lawnmower Man! This is the OTHER Stephen King! Y’know, the one who single-handedly kept the basic-cable industry alive with looping reruns of Stand by Me and The Shawshank Redemption!”

That Stephen King returns with a semi-fantasy of bittersweet lyricism in The Life of Chuck, whose box-office figures have been grim, yet might hopefully earn a home-video renaissance in its next medium, where it doesn’t have to compete against the bigger studios’ re-nuked kiddie leftovers. Alas, today’s theaters can only contain up to 1.5 multitudes at a time.

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“The Dead Don’t Die” But They May Be the Last Ones Here to Turn Out the Lights

Sheriffs Don't Die!

Your local sheriffs scrambling to fathom the zombie menace in a film that could also be called The Living Don’t Live. Ooh, paradoxes.

I remember reading about the films of idiosyncratic director Jim Jarmusch in the Movies section of Entertainment Weekly throughout the course of my now-lapsed 28-year subscription, but I’ve never made an effort to watch one for myself till now. Inertia can be a pathetic anchor like that sometimes. And it’s far too easy to get distracted in a universe of nigh-unlimited cultural options, where the human mind can only hold so many directors’ names in its head at any one time, presuming one is making an effort to retain them.

When I saw Jarmusch’s name on the trailer for The Dead Don’t Die, I knew this could be no ordinary zombie film. After a long journey that involved me showing up at the wrong theater, driving halfway across the city to the correct one, nearly having a breakdown when I had to brake for a funeral procession, and arriving with plenty of minutes to spare thanks to a glut of trailers that stalled for time in my favor…then did I see my prophecy fulfilled.

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MCC Request Line #7: “Take Shelter”

Michael Shannon, Take Shelter

Hey, wow, it’s a supposedly recurring feature everyone forgot because it stopped recurring!

Dormant but far from nonexistent, the Midlife Crisis Crossover Request Line is always open and accepting recommendations from MCC fans for stuff I can or should read, watch, or experience and then relay the results here, whether it’s high art or deep hurting. Today’s suggestion was offered a while back by British film reviewer Natalie Stendall, whose current home is at Writer Loves Movies.

Our feature presentation: the 2011 indie drama Take Shelter, starring Man of Steel‘s Michael Shannon and Academy Award Nominee Jessica Chastain. Writer/director Jeff Nichols would later go on to greater acclaim with 2013’s Mud, which signaled the beginning of Best Year Ever for its star Matthew McConaughey.

But before Mud…there was General Zod going mad in a quiet little town.

This way lies madness! Or doom! Or both!

A Few of My Favorite Apocalypses

Roland Emmerich's "2012"Remember that time when the world ended on December 21st? And before that on January 1, 2000, at the hands of the Y2K bugaboo? And before that in 1994 as Nostradamus predicted in The Man Who Saw Tomorrow? Neither do I. As the humble survivor of at least three documented ends of the world, I count my blessings and try not to take the failures of those premature endtimes for granted.

In honor of Earth living to rotate another day, I present this cursory clipfest of a few of the most memorable incidents in which someone or something threatened to end or merely ruin life on Earth as we know it. In some cases the day was saved thanks to some meddling kids; in other cases, Earth lost and the survivors pressed on because life had to find a new way. At the bottom are a few provisional inclusions — two stories I haven’t seen through to their conclusions, and two stories I could’ve lived without knowing.

(This list is clearly far from all-inclusive. Beyond what I’m forgetting or dismissing, I’m also setting aside the most famous of all, the one that will end with the Lord’s victory, because of obvious Hall of Fame status. Unfair competition, you see.)

On with the countdown, preferably timed with a red digital readout:

* Falling Skies — If the War of the Worlds Martians had better immune systems, even in victory they’d still have to reckon with the uppity spiritual descendants of America’s founding fathers. As led by the earnest but damaged Noah Wyle and Armageddon survivor Will Patton, the Second Mass is more organized and logical than Revolution, more hope-filled and less defeatist than The Walking Dead, and a lot less canceled than FlashForward.

* 2012 — Not the year itself, but the arguably greatest film of Roland Emmerich’s career has better effects than Godzilla, less jingoism than Independence Day, and higher-quality schmaltz than The Day After Tomorrow. Add in a histrionic John Cusack, a self-parodying Woody Harrelson, and a mandatory impassionate speech at the end delivered by Serenity‘s amazing Chiwetel Ejiofor. With these key components, Emmerich finally nailed the formula he’d striven for years to perfect.

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“Freshly Pressed” Post Saves Earth, Foils Millennia-Old Mayan Armageddon Scheme

Tomazooma

If there were a Mayan Galactus, he would dress exactly like Tomazooma.

One of the first things I noticed when I woke up December 21, 2012, is that I woke up December 21, 2012, a day that The Powerless Who Wish They Were The Powers That Be duly notified us years in advance would not exist. In direct defiance of this premonition, there I was, groggy, breathing, existent, and hearing my wife out in the living room yelling at our dog. None of these things could possibly be happening. Pundits had told me so.

Clearly someone had meddled in the long-term machinations of those pesky Mayans. Who could have saved the day, and all the days after it? Did God smite them? Was their forbidden stronghold located and smashed to pieces by a South American super-hero team? Did a suspicious policeman stumble upon their ringleaders and call in reinforcements? Did their primitive doomsday device slip a cog? Or did their sleeper agents forget to set their alarm clocks for the right time to rise up and decimate?

I was clueless. My mostly ordinary work day failed to shed any light or unearth new evidence to this mystery…for the first half of the day, anyway. At lunchtime I found my answer.

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