A woman revisits her childhood aspirations, endeavoring to achieve her old goals, only to discover that pursuing these lifelong dreams takes her on an unforeseen and surprising journey.The Life List (2025) is a heartfelt romantic drama that follows the transformative journey of Alexandra “Alex” Rose (played by Sofia Carson), a 30-year-old woman whose carefully controlled life is upended after the death of her mother, Elizabeth Rose (played by Connie Britton). At the start of the film, Alex is presented as a perfectionist—disciplined, successful, and emotionally guarded. She works at her mother’s cosmetics company, Rose Beauty, where she’s been groomed to take over the business someday. However, when her mother passes away after a long battle with cancer, Alex is devastated. She expects to inherit the company immediately, but during the reading of Elizabeth’s will, she discovers a shocking stipulation: before she can claim her inheritance, she must first complete a “life list” of 20 goals she herself wrote at the age of 13, a list her mother secretly saved all these years. This childhood list is full of youthful dreams like “fall in love,” “become a teacher,” “visit Paris,” “make peace with Dad,” and even “ride a horse,” which Alex now finds childish and irrelevant. Furious and grieving, she initially refuses to take part, but the terms of the will leave her no choice. With her future uncertain and her mother’s voice echoing in her mind, Alex reluctantly begins her journey—one that forces her to rediscover who she once was and who she truly wants to become. Her first step is reaching out to her estranged father, a man she hasn’t spoken to in nearly two decades. The reunion is awkward and emotional, but it marks the beginning of a slow healing process. Along the way, Alex meets Brad (Kyle Allen), a charming and kindhearted lawyer who worked closely with her mother. At first, she sees him as just another professional involved in her mother’s estate, but as they cross paths repeatedly during her list adventures, a genuine friendship develops that gradually deepens into something more. Each goal on the list pushes Alex outside of her comfort zone. She performs stand-up comedy at a local open mic, where her first attempt ends in embarrassment, but it awakens her sense of humor and courage. She volunteers at a homeless shelter, meets people with stories far different from her own, and begins to understand that life’s value isn’t measured by corporate success but by empathy, connection, and authenticity. When she travels to Paris to check off another item, she experiences moments of both joy and reflection, standing at the Eiffel Tower and realizing how small but alive she feels. Throughout the film, flashbacks reveal the depth of her bond with her mother. Elizabeth was a free-spirited woman who believed in chasing dreams and living fully, a sharp contrast to the cautious, pragmatic adult Alex has become. The life list, we come to see, was Elizabeth’s final gift—a roadmap designed not to punish her daughter but to help her heal and reconnect with the exuberant, curious girl she once was. As Alex progresses through the list, she uncovers hidden truths about her mother’s past, including a secret love story and a series of personal sacrifices Elizabeth made to protect her. These revelations force Alex to see her mother not just as a parent, but as a complex woman who, like her, struggled between duty and desire. The emotional weight of these discoveries culminates in a tearful scene where Alex reads a letter Elizabeth left behind, urging her to stop merely existing and to start living, to forgive others and herself, and to understand that happiness is not a destination but a continuous choice. Romantically, Alex’s connection with Brad evolves slowly, built on shared understanding and mutual support. He becomes her confidant, accompanying her on some of her list adventures while reminding her that vulnerability isn’t weakness. There’s a pivotal moment when Brad reveals that he too once abandoned his own dreams after a personal loss, and Alex realizes how much they mirror each other. Their chemistry is quiet yet powerful, grounded in emotional honesty rather than grand gestures. Meanwhile, Alex faces challenges at Rose Beauty, as her absence leads to tension with the board and threatens the company’s stability. Torn between loyalty to her mother’s legacy and her newfound sense of purpose, she ultimately decides that she doesn’t want to live in her mother’s shadow—she wants to build something meaningful on her own terms. By the time she nears the end of her list, Alex has transformed. She’s learned to laugh, to take risks, and to open her heart again. She completes nearly every goal, but there are a few that remain unchecked, including “fall in love.” In the film’s emotional climax, she confronts Brad and admits that she’s terrified of love because it makes her vulnerable to loss, but she also realizes that love—like her mother’s lesson—requires bravery. They share a tender moment that feels less like a cinematic finale and more like the start of a real, imperfect relationship. The final scenes tie the story together beautifully: Alex visits her mother’s grave, places a completed version of her list there, and says, “I didn’t finish everything, but I think you’d say I did.” The camera pans out as she walks away smiling, free from the expectations that once defined her, ready to embrace whatever comes next. In the end, The Life List is more than a romantic drama—it’s a meditation on grief, identity, and the rediscovery of joy. It teaches that life’s meaning doesn’t come from ticking off achievements but from living with intention and love. Sofia Carson delivers a layered performance, balancing grief, humor, and emotional growth, while Connie Britton’s portrayal of Elizabeth resonates through flashbacks and memories, giving the story its heart. Kyle Allen’s Brad adds warmth and grounded optimism. The cinematography captures both the intimacy of Alex’s internal journey and the expansive possibilities of the world she rediscovers. By the credits, we’re left with a sense of cathartic hope—that every dream we abandon too soon can be reclaimed, and that the lists we write as children might just hold the wisdom we need as adults.