Yesterday my husband and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary. We are not regular movie goers, so going to the theater was something different for us. He was the one who said he wanted to see The Bucket List.
A half bucket of a shared medium popcorn later, I was afraid to look at him. I was sure he was hating every minute of it. Was this a chick flick? It was soft, slow, tender and exposing the issues of the heart; the camera was very content to listen to these two men, without violence, sex or overdone swearing.
Even in the very early scenes, I was choking back tears, stretching my eyebrows up to keep my contacs flat against my eyeballs. My throat was starting to ache from the pressure of pushing down the sobs.
Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman are such good actors. They portray two chemo patients sharing a hospital room and sharing the same fate. Their printed blue gowns have stripped them of their identities and have left them looking at the rest of life with new eyes. The fact that in real life these men, seventy-ish, are facing death sometime within maybe, hopefully, thirty or forty years, but possibly sooner, gives the film a sense of almost being a documentary.
I woke up today thinking about what I believe to be two valuable reminders the movie expounds upon.
1) Find joy and give joy.
2) Time goes by "like smoke in a keyhole."
BTW, my husband loved it and on the way home as we chatted about it, I did--- cry me a bucket of tears.