Living With Chucky: The Killer Doll's Human 'Sister' Directs an Overheated Love Letter

By Thom Ernst

Rating: C+

At the time of this writing, Rotten Tomatoes—filmdom’s universal seismograph—lists the documentary Living with Chucky as 100% certified fresh.

That’s an astounding ratio, even with only 13 pundits weighing in. Living with Chucky is the filmmaker’s first-hand experience growing up with the most iconic killer doll in the horror-verse, with Child’s Play (the title for the first three installments of seven films plus a reboot), one of the most enduring horror franchises.

By title alone, Living with Chucky suggests there is more to the documentary than simply praising the bond that connects an audience to movie-magic puppetry; more so given that the film’s director, Kyra Elise Gardner, has a personal connection. 

Gardner is the daughter of prolific special effects, make-up artist, and puppeteer, Tony Gardner (God bless him for Return of the Living Dead (1985) and The Blob remake). Gardner takes a gentle, reflective look at her life growing up with an animatronic sibling. But her take, although understandably non-confrontational, given that Chucky has probably enriched her life more than distracted from it, is an all-too-easy/all-too-safe approach, with little that’s new or interesting to add to the mythology.

Living with Chucky amounts to little more than honour without derision, despite casting all the right people (Brad and Fiona Dourif, Tony Gardner, Alex Vincent, Don Mancini, Jennifer Tilly, David Kirschner) plus a few curious accessories (Lin Shaye, Marlon Wayans and Abigail Breslin). 

 How did this Howdy-Doody look-a-like forge a place, not just alongside his contemporaries, Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th), Freddy Krueger (A Nightmare on Elm Street), and Michael Myers (Halloween), but with the Valhalla of greats, Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Wolfman?

And what of Brad Dourif, whose voice work as Chucky outperforms critically acclaimed roles he performed alongside the likes of Jack Nicholson, Dennis Hopper, and Christopher Walken?

Without anything more than the heralding of a cult figure, Living with Chucky becomes a Chucky lovefest relying solely on reminiscing the good times; the kind of interviews that used to be added as a DVD extra. Only Jennifer Tilley adds some cheeky-comic sparkle, as only she can, with background stories that offer some sense of Chucky off-screen.

The cult of Chucky—and here I refer to the film’s fans and not to the title of the seventh installment, and the last to feature Dourif’s voice (Mark Hamill took over in the 2019 reboot)—are unlikely to find fault. Any opportunity that rejoices in the back story of this seminal anti-hero, particularly when told through an idealistic first-person perspective, is bound to be embraced.

And, yes, Gardner’s film is not without spirit, a sentiment that surfaces organically when turning the camera on her father—a mood similarly reflected when speaking to father and daughter Brad and Fiona Dourif.

But it is not until the film’s midpoint (perhaps further along) that Gardner introduces herself with a third character observation like a nearly forgotten thesis haphazardly inserted into the film. It doesn’t have the punch of a third-act reveal that would add perspective to the first two acts. Instead, it’s a thesis dropped in too late, with little effect.

Living with Chucky is a work of love. But it’s a love that smothers anything of real interest with so much goodwill that, if derision exists, it doesn’t stand a chance. Were Chucky a living entity I suspect he’d hope his documentary would be somewhat darker and not quite as sweet as the one we’re given. 

In the end, Living with Chucky feels like a film in earnest pursuit of substance and a search for validation when none is needed. 

Living with Chucky. Directed by Kyra Elsie Gardner. Starring Brad Dourif, Fiona Dourif, Tony Gardner, Alex Vincent, Don Mancini, Jennifer Tilley, David Kirschner, Lin Shaye, Marlon Wayans, and Abigail Breslin. Currently available to stream on various platforms.