You know what I hate? Movie Critics who think that when a movie has “heart” it automatically gets labeled “maudlin” or worse “sentimental”. Actual emotions seem to be the kiss of death when it comes to these acerbic tongued Masters of the Celluloid Universe. And lest you think I am being an over-vigilant hyper-critic of the critics themselves, well…I have to confess that in a previous lifetime, I was one of the fold. I was “of the body”, I drank the kool-aid. I was a Movie Critic for KIRO Newsradio and very, very briefly on KIRO TV. Luckily, I had a partner and our name at the very minimum took us down about 20 notches on the Rex Reed-o-meter scale. We were known as the “Movie Guys”. You know the image that it brings to mind: two guys sitting around watching movies while playing with their Star Wars action figures without taking them out of the box (you have to preserve their integrity). But I digress. My Rant concerns a movie I viewed last night (with my action figures safely tucked away, rest assured.) The Movie is newly out on DVD. It is called, THE BUCKET LIST. Directed by Rob Reiner and starring two of arguably the Best Actors of the last 30 years: Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. When the movie came out in the theaters I thought, “Wow. Great cast. Sounds funny, poignant. I think I’ll put it on my must see list.” But then, the ‘reviews’ started pouring in. One Star, a Bomb, “not even the earnest performances of the two leads can rescue The Bucket List from its schmaltzy script.” The NY Times said, THE BUCKET LIST operates on the hope that two beloved stars rubbing their signature screen personas together can spark warm, fuzzy box office magic. I wouldn’t count on it.” The best part is always saved for the last part of the critique when they can really show off how intellectual they are by coming up with the wittiest Noel Cowardly remark that they usually thought up before they even went to the free screening. Something like, “Saddest of all, the professed spiritual goals on the pair’s checklist of things to do — “laugh till you cry,” “witness something majestic” — are the kind of pallid bromides found in the pages of a quickie self-help book: “I’m Not O.K., and Neither Are You.” Oh, how droll. We bow to your obviously superior intellect. Oh and by the way, what a load of crap. Do you write those reviews on a roll of Charmin? If you did, at least in the long run it would be good for something. For the record, I enjoyed THE BUCKET LIST. Jack was in rare form. Morgan Freeman was a perfect foil. There was some wonderful moments between two exceptionally gifted actors. That alone should be worth the price of admission. And on top of that, the movie made you think (not so much that it makes your brain hurt, but enough to be remembered). But, it crossed that Critical Line in the Sand. It was sentimental and it had heart. You might even find a tear in your eye unless of course, you’re not human. It seems like if Critics went to the Land of Oz, they would sell the Tin Man for scrap metal. They would probably berate the Great and Powerful Oz as a pontificating, over-acting Shatner-like ham. There’s a thought. Maybe we SHOULD send all the critics to Oz. Let them sling their arrows of outrageous fortune at the Wizard and see what it really feels like to have a lightning bolt up the old wazzu. Oh and by the way. I AM OKAY. You’re a pompous windbag. And that makes me smile, maybe even laugh till I cry, you hack.
