Sometimes we forget that every person contains multitudes. Within each of us lives an entire universe of moments, places, people, and memories. And when a person dies, that universe fades. Just one among countless others, yes — but still an infinite cosmos in its own right.

Mike Flanagan’s The Life of Chuck, adapted from Stephen King’s novella, is a tender reminder of what a human being truly is — and why life should be cherished, no matter its shape or length. The strange thing is, after watching the film, carrying that truth almost feels lighter. There’s a little more responsibility, perhaps, but also a renewed sense of wonder.

Running through the film is Carl Sagan’s cosmic calendar — the thought experiment that compresses the entire history of the universe into a single year. By that scale, humanity appears only in the final seconds of December 31st. Our triumphs and tragedies are mere flickers in cosmic time. Yet within those flickers lies meaning.

Flanagan structures Chuck’s story in reverse, beginning with its third act and piecing a life together like a puzzle. There are upheavals, yes, but the film dwells on the joy — the moments that define us far more than loss. Chuck’s life may be a little too magical to map directly onto our own, but the message is clear: we each contain a universe, and we must tend to it.

The film carries a bitter sweetness, but it is uplifting all the same. It nudges us to keep expanding our inner cosmos — with new memories, encounters, and experiences. Because if we don’t, then what is it all for?

The Life of Chuck is not just a film. It’s a meditation. A reminder that within the briefest spark lies a universe worth protecting. And somehow, after the credits roll, living feels just a little easier.