The Bucket List

I slept through many of the scenes in The Bucket List, a new film starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, which I hope owed more to a bad case of jet lag than editorial comment. The problem with the film is three-fold: sadly, the three dramatic acts. Act 1 is the set-up, and in this case it’s mostly medical. We see who these men were, and who they are now that they’re diagnosed with cancer. There are a couple good lines, but the producers chose to put them in the trailer, so you’ve heard them approximately six hundred times prior to their delivery in the film, and so they fall flat. And that pretty much sums up the film: it falls flat. The second act is a travelogue. The third act is the predictable physical decline of one of the characters and how lives change when we die. No tears from me. Though my wife managed a few. (But she cries at Kodak ads.)

What saves the film, or did for me, are the two performances. Because I will go to any Morgan Freeman or Jack Nicholson film, and I’m not alone: the box office on this film is good. Jack is Jack, and his facial expressions never get old. He’s a master. He makes some pretty standard lines shine. And Morgan Freeman is the answer to that line: Of those still living, with whom would you most like to have dinner? For me, it’s not some Victoria Secret model, or Tom Brady. Maybe I’m getting old. But instead, it might be Steve Jobs or yes, Morgan Freeman. Okay... Nicole Kidman and Scarlet Johansson would make the list. There. Some honesty.

The Bucket List is not great film making, nor is it even fairly good writing. But it’s Jack and Morgan, and so, easily worth the ninety minutes, as long as you leave time for a few naps.