Heads up: this post may contain a few spoilers. I’d recommend watching The Life List on Netflix before reading on!
I have just finished The Life List on Netflix, and I want to say that watching the movie felt like a warm, cozy hug I didn’t know I’d been craving for a long time.
It’s been a while since I have allowed myself to watch something purely for the joy of it. With adulthood constantly asking us to put out fires, “fun” often feels like a luxury — one that gets shelved far too easily. But this movie? It felt like just the right amount of indulgence.
Normally, I go full research-mode before watching anything. I’ll dive into reviews, scour ratings (obviously), and sometimes even tiptoe around spoilers. More often than not, I end up falling into a Reddit or YouTube black hole, obsessively decoding character arcs or trying to figure out if the film will match my current emotional weather.
(Am I the only person who does this? Let me know in the comments below.)
But this time, I didn’t do any of that. And I’m glad I didn’t.
This time, when I opened Netflix, I didn’t overthink it. I just clicked on the first suggestion. The Life List thumbnail simply felt right. No weighing the pros and cons, no overanalyzing whether it was worth my time. And honestly? I don’t regret it one bit. I only wish more decisions in life could be made this effortlessly, and with the same amount of certainty.
The movie begins with Alex and her boyfriend sitting in the car, gearing up to walk into her mother’s party. In that opening scene, we quickly gather that Alex’s mom isn’t a fan of the boyfriend — like, really isn’t a fan. At first, the moment didn’t strike me as anything significant. In my culture, disapproving of your daughter’s boyfriend is almost a rite of passage. But looking back, especially after witnessing the layered relationship between Alex and her mother, I see that the scene was practically shouting: he’s not good enough for her and her mom knows it.
Alex is living life on easy mode and that sense of coasting, of quietly settling, runs through every part of Alex’s life. She’s cruising through adulthood on autopilot: working at her mother’s company, Rose Cosmetics, in a role she insists she loves; staying in a relationship she’s uncertain about (though let’s be honest, “love” doesn’t seem to be a requirement for relationships anymore). And her big life update? She’s moving in with her boyfriend... because her lease ran out. Riveting.
So when her Mom passes away and leaves her with no inheritance, Alex is all umbrage. It is then that her mother’s lawyer pulls her aside and hands her a letter from her mother along with “The Life List” — a list Alex had made when she was thirteen. Her mother’s last wish is that Alex check off each and every item on said list in order to be “eligible” to receive her inheritance.
At first, Alex is skeptical — understandably so. But she eventually gives in and starts ticking items off the list. She lands a teaching job, gets a tattoo, mends her relationship with her father(s), makes it through Moby Dick, and even finds the courage to break up with her chaotic boyfriend in pursuit of something more real, more aligned.
As she journeys through each item on the list, we begin to see real change in her. It’s not just about the tasks; it’s about what they unlock in her. The list becomes a way for her to process the fog of grief following her mother’s death — especially because after every completed item, Alex receives a video message from her late mother, each one offering a piece of guidance or comfort.
In many ways, The Life List echoes the structure of P.S. I Love You — the love, the loss, the letters. But the considerable time gap between the two films helps The Life List stand on its own, with a gentler, more youthful lens on grief, growth, and rediscovery.
Watching the movie was a perfect vibe: like curling up with a book next to a fireplace with hot chocolate on a cold, snowy morning. It’s been a while since a movie made me feel so sentimental! Usually, my ADHD makes it hard for me to focus, but this one was different. It was slightly kooky, absolutely adorable, and made me believe in love again. That’s what art should be about, right? Uplifting you. I think The Life List nails it.
Any-whoo. Here is a list of things I learned from the movie:
Sometimes, you forget your dreams. And that’s okay. Life has a way of distracting you with bills, breakups, and broken routines. But that doesn’t mean the dreams are gone—they’re just waiting for you to come back.
Your younger self knew a lot. Even if she was a little dramatic and had questionable taste in clothes, she knew what lit you up. Sometimes going forward means checking in with who you were before life got complicated.
“Good enough” is often not enough. A partner, a job, a city—just because it’s functional doesn’t mean it’s right. If it doesn’t light you up, it might be slowly dimming you down.
Love isn’t supposed to feel like a compromise. Love should expand you, not shrink you. And if your mom doesn’t like him? That instinct might be worth listening to.
Rom-coms can still surprise you. Especially when they’re not about the guy at all, but about you finding your voice again.
Moving in with someone because your lease expired is not the vibe. Let’s not confuse logistics with fate. You deserve more than convenience.
Friendships deserve more screen time—in movies and in real life. The best scenes were the ones where Alex was surrounded by women who knew her heart. Romantic love is lovely, but it’s not everything.
You’re allowed to change direction, at any age. The idea that you must have your life “figured out” by 30 is a scam. You can pivot at 27, or 35, or 50—and still live a full, magical life.
Fun is healing. You don’t always need shadow work or ten-step self-help routines. Sometimes, laughing, dancing, and following a silly bucket list is enough to start remembering who you are.
Life doesn’t have to be extraordinary to matter. It just has to feel real. Personal. Honest. Yours. And that, really, is the whole point
And lastly, this heartwarming narrative not only showcases the power of revisiting one’s youthful aspirations but also underscores the profound impact of bucket lists in guiding personal growth and self-discovery. We write bucket lists - or “life list” as the movie terms it - because they are our quiet promises to ourselves - a roadmap of dreams etched in ink and longing. They are our way of saying, “I will not let life pass by unnoticed.”
Each item is a star we choose to chase, a memory waiting to be made, a gentle defiance against the ordinary. In those carefully written lines, we capture the essence of hope, a testament to our belief that there is more to come, that we are more than the sum of our fears. Bucket lists are a tender pact between our present selves and the future we dare to imagine.
Inspired by Alex's story, I contemplated the items I would include on my own life list. I’ve never been the kind to write bucket lists on New Year’s Eve or scribble wild dreams onto café napkins. But after watching The Life List, I’ve been thinking a lot about the quiet things I want. Not the loud, firework dreams — but the ones that hum softly beneath the surface.
So here’s a small start. My life list, as of now:
To fall in love again — slowly, deeply, without losing myself.
To live somewhere with a big window and a tree outside it.
To publish my book, even if it sells just 12 copies.
To travel alone at least once, and not feel lonely.
To tell my mother that I finally understand some of her silences.
To grow my hair long again, just to feel like myself.
To forgive the people who didn’t know better. And maybe even myself.
To have a photo album full of quiet moments — not just the loud ones.
To make enough money to feel safe, not impressive.
To feel proud of who I am becoming, without comparing her to anyone else.
A bucket list is more than just a checklist of thrilling adventures or exotic places—it’s a way of reclaiming your life, a reminder of what truly matters to you. It helps us prioritize, to clarify the essence of who we want to be, and to push against the inertia of everyday life. A bucket list isn’t just about ticking off items. It’s about living with intention, taking ownership of our own story, and making room for things that make us feel truly alive.
I chose the items on my life list not because they were flashy or wildly ambitious, but because each one tugged at something quiet and essential inside me — desires I’ve ignored, dreams I shelved for later, things I’ve always wanted to do but never made time for. Each item represents a part of me I want to nurture or understand better. The list isn’t about ticking off achievements, really — it’s about choosing to be deliberate with my time, creating meaning in the everyday, and slowly stitching a life that feels like mine.
As I mentally carried my list, I found solace in having my aspirations clearly outlined, reinforcing the notion that perhaps life doesn’t have to be so complicated after all.
I’d love to know — what would you put on your life list? Tell me in the comments!
And if you haven’t seen The Life List yet, do yourself a favour and watch it this weekend. Totally worth it.
I’m a believer in writing down what we hope to accomplish. Your list is good but not specific enough. When you fall in love (for instance) what is he like, how does he look, how does he make you feel? When will you find the window with the tree? Is it in the city or the country? Is the house yours or rented. If rented, why aren’t you living there now? I read a book called the Jackrabbit factor about imagining the future feeling of your goal in advance. It’s available for free on YouTube as an audio book. Maybe reading it would help you see what I mean by making your bucket list specific and choosing a date by which each thing is to happen.
My friend co-wrote one of the original 100 things travel books. Here’s an article about him, you might enjoy finding his book: 100 Things to Do Before You Die
https://www.latimes.com/travel/la-trw-freeman26-2008aug26-story.html