Stephen King’s Kirkus-starred 2020 novella collection, If It Bleeds, features some of the horror master’s most intriguing tales of recent years. The title story, for instance, is a thoughtful, creepy sequel to his 2018 novel, The Outsider, which featured a shape-shifting serial murderer; “Rat” is a frightening account of a desperate writer making a Faustian bargain to finish his novel; and “Mr. Harrigan’s Phone” is an offbeat, Tales From the Crypt–style yarn that asks: What if ghosts could use iPhones? The latter story was made into a low-key Netflix film three years ago, starring Donald Sutherland in one his final roles; it’s a perfectly fine chiller, but a straightforward one without much ambition.

A new film adaptation of If It Bleed’s remaining tale, “The Life of Chuck,” has a lot more on its mind. It’s a sweeping survey of an average man’s time on Earth that addresses heavy themes, including grief, fate, and what truly makes life worth living. It was written and directed by brilliant horror filmmaker Mike Flanagan, and it premieres in select theaters on June 6; a wide release will follow on June 13.

King’s novella has an unusual three-act structure that starts with a world ending, proceeds through a life-affirming dance number, and then finishes with a coming-of-age tale with a very Kinglike supernatural element. It may be hard to believe, at first, that “The Life of Chuck” isn’t one of the author’s usual horror tales, given that the first act presents a chilling portrait of an apocalypse: coastlines sinking into the sea, rampant suicides, and, finally, the stars in the sky going dark. Everywhere, billboards and other ads pay tribute to “a moon-faced man with black-framed glasses” who “looked like an accountant”: “CHARLES KRANTZ….39 GREAT YEARS! THANKS, CHUCK!”

In the second act, readers meet Chuck in the flesh: an unassuming, 30-something actuary who has a sudden urge to dance in public to the music of a busking drummer; he draws a crowd, and soon, a vibrant young woman dances with him. The final section tells of how Chuck tragically lost his parents as a child, gained a love of dance in middle school, and later learned a terrible secret in his grandparents’ house, thanks to a very unusual cupola. A lovely scene in which Chuck’s “hippy-dippyish” young teacher explains Walt Whitman’s famous line “I am large, I contain multitudes” is just one of many inspiring elements that turn a tale of nonstop tragedy into an unexpectedly life-affirming one.

One would think that the offbeat framework of “The Life of Chuck” would make it a challenge to replicate on screen, but writer/director Flanagan simply solves this problem with remarkable faithfulness to the original text, reverse chronology and all. His deep respect for King’s work comes as no surprise; after all, he previously adapted two other works by the author: Doctor Sleep, King’s dark sequel to The Shining; and Gerald’s Game, a grim survival thriller. The Life of Chuck is a much grander production than either of those, with many more moving parts; however, Flanagan is used to such complexity as the creator of several excellent Netflix miniseries with large ensemble casts, including 2018’s The Haunting of Hill House.

In The Life of Chuck, extensive narration reproduces much of King’s text verbatim; it’s provided by the great Mark Hamill, who also portrays Chuck’s loving grandfather. Mia Sara plays Chuck’s lively grandmother, and Kate Siegel brings Chuck’s teacher to life; A Nightmare on Elm Street’s Heather Langenkamp is wonderful as young Chuck’s gossipy neighbor, as is Snowpiercer’s Annalise Basso as the older Chuck’s beaming dance partner. Many other talented actors appear in small roles, including Chiwetel Ejiofor, Karen Gillan, and Matthew Lillard. Chuck himself is played by Benjamin Pajak and Room’s Jacob Tremblay as a youth and Loki’s Tom Hiddleston as an adult, and they effortlessly carry the story through its odd twists and turns. Overall, it’s a riveting and affecting film—one that, much like Chuck himself, contains multitudes.

David Rapp is the senior Indie editor.