Terms of Endearment

Is it possible to love a movie that you don't believe is worthy of its Best Picture prize? Yes, as evidenced by Terms of Endearment, James L. Brook's sappy, female friendly sob fest. It's kind of a soggy film, all Hollywood sentiment and glorious throwback to the comedy-tragedies of earlier times. As a piece of art, it's pure fluff. As entertainment, it's smashing.
James L. Brooks wrote, directed, and produced the film, and his stamp is all over it. Brooks is a terrific writer, one who understands people, how they think and feel and talk. Terms of Endearment is about two people, two women, Aurora Greenway (Shirley MacLaine) and her daughter Emma (Debra Winger). Aurora is overbearing, critical, unapologetic, unforgiving. Emma is warm, passionate, and goofy. They're mother and daughter and they're friends. However, their relationship hits a bump when Emma decides to get married to the unambitious Flap (Jeff Daniels). Aurora disapproves, believing that the choice to marry Flap will be the mistake of Emma's life. Emma decides to go through with the marriage anyway and moves out of the house. Flap's job takes him, Emma, and their son away from the southern home in which Emma grew up. Emma and Aurora's relationship therefore evolves through phone conversations and scattered visits, as the film tracks their respective lives and their tenuous bond over the course of many years.
The plot is sufficient with little that is decidedly new or refreshing, and the film isn't trying to be anything but a shameless tearjerker. The bond of mother and daughter has been explored in many films but perhaps not as entertainingly as it is here. Aurora and Emma are decidedly imperfect human beings, a fact that the movie wears on its sleeve. They are sympathetic, though, and eminently likable. The performances are wonderful, with MacLaine getting the far juicier role. As Aurora, that critical gaze could bore a hole through the most hardened soul. However, McLaine also let's us see Aurora's vulnerability and aching loneliness. The scenes between her and her neighbor, former astronaut Garrett Breedlove (Jack Nicholson) are searingly honest, such as when Aurora brings him up to her room and her ultimate succumbing to her desires are unplanned and yet ultimately satisfying. The scenes towards the end in which Aurora deals with her daughter's cancer are heartbreaking. The incredible anger she possesses is frightening. When Emma's son badmouths his ill mother, Aurora starts hitting the boy until he begins to cry. And then Aurora begins to cry as well. McLaine let's us see so much of the character in this one moment. A woman who tries to be too solid to shed tears even when it's the only thing she can think of humanly accomplishing. However, her performance does border on the over-acting category at times, such in the scene when Aurora yells at her pregnant daughter "Why should I be happy about being a grandmother!". MacLaine delivers the line with so much camp zest it's hard to take her seriously. Although her role is juicier, it's not necessarily better. Winger, ultimately, was the film's greatest performer, delivering a performance of great wit and compassion. Unlike MacLaine's Aurora, Emma is grounded and far more relatable. The scene in which she tearily tells her mother "Momma, that's the first time I stopped hugging first. I like that." is just magnificent. Winger also performs her deathbed scenes with volatile emotion and yet grace. She goes from seemingly strong, to angry, to sad, to understanding. Whereas other performers would treat the subject matter flatly wistful and sad and beautiful, Winger tries to uncover all of the emotions that would be carried with such a burden. The scene in which she says goodbye to her kids is COME ON- HEARTBREAKING! Don't try to pretend it isn't. As a girl learning to assert herself after breaking free from the constraints of an overbearing mother, Winger lets loose a woman whose emotions are confused and yet human. Nicholson's performance is too familiar to be truly great. He's got some great lines but we more or less get we've come to know about Nicholson as an actor. He does show some warmth and sensitivity, especially towards the end, which makes his performance better than initially presumed. The last scene, in which he attempts to console one of Emma's sons, is magnificent in how much he is able to communicate about his character. The man does not know how to console and he goes about it awkwardly. But the fact that he tries, that he cares, shows growth and yet stability. He's always been a caring man, he's always just though he was too proud to show it. The supporting characters such as Daniels as Flap and John Lithgow, as Emma's brief extra-marital lover, are terrific and have developed personalities of their own.
The script is funny and sad, blending comedy and tragedy deftly. The dialogue is just great, such interaction below being witty and hilarious:

Garrett Breedlove: You're just going to have to trust me about this one thing. You need a lot of drinks.
Aurora Greenway: To break the ice?
Garrett Breedlove: To kill the bug that you have up your ass.

Or others being honest and occasionally hurtful:

Emma Horton: [to her son] OK, you're allowed to say one mean thing to me a year. That'll do until you're 10.

The script's plot as stated before is somewhat nonexistent. The film just kind of moves along with little conflict albeit character interactions. Then the film suddenly becomes a cancer deathbed weepy. The choice to kill off Emma is, well, uncreative and just plain out-of-the-blue. I prepared myself to hate the film after this point. It seemed like the kind of film that didn't know how to end and therefore chose to simply wrap up the film with a painful death and a tidy resolution. Well, maybe that's true. But surprisingly, it worked. It didn't feel that disjointed and ultimately was poignant rather than being reminiscent of a Lifetime movie. Maybe it's because the film has so thoroughly developed its characters and its dialogue that the film feels too sophisticated to be a truly stupid Hollywood flick. A film less polished would have failed with such a plot point. Terms of Endearment is about two lives, one of which happens to come to a short end. We forget that this is really a story anymore. We come to believe we're just watching two lives.
The film's score is beautiful and undeniably cheesy. The cinematography is occasionally beautiful. When Emma rides away from her mother, the camera is placed outside the window as we pull away and there's this incredible sense of excitement that pervades the film. It's quite magical.
Why, if I spent this entire review lauding the film, do I rob it of its Best Picture validity? Terms of Endearment is one of those films I think is lovely without being great. It's corny and yet it's just so gloriously aware of its cornball movie aspirations. It wants nothing more than two invite these two women into our lives and just make us feel something. I'm unashamed to say that I laughed and cried. That I came to care. And that I came to terms. (Clever, huh?)