I've finally watched the Bucket List.
On DVD. After talking about it since it first started its run in the cinemas some months ago. I normally don't care too much for shows about death. Its a little morbid ya. But the draw of Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman in the same movie was enough to make many cinema-goers, and delayed-response viewers on DVD like me, perhaps pay good money to watch two old farts conjure up a list of things to do before kicking the bucket. And executing it.
The theme is not new. Deep down inside, there are a couple (maybe more) of things that we want to do before we go see Big Daddy in the Sky. But somehow, we don't make a conscious effort to write the stuff down or even dwell on it at length. Why? Simply because we all want to believe that we've got some (lots of) time left before we go. And really, how many of us would want to ponder the possibility of dying? Its something distant, something faraway.
Watching Cole (Nicholson) and Carter (Freeman) Lear-jet themselves around the world doing stuff most of us mere mortals can only dream of makes me think about what I would like to have in my own Bucket List if I was told I had but 6 months to live. Would it be an Epicurean Adventure of sorts? Or would I be scared shitless, embroiled in a mad-dash to find my god?
You know, I wish it would be as easy as using my last days to say things to people I really care about. Things that would be liberated once the imminence of Death comes knocking.
But I also wonder why, without the fear of dying, we find it so hard to say things to the people we love sometimes.
Do we need death to close one door and yet open another?
Labels: Movies, Musings