In the years since, Endearment<\/em> has become a perennial punchline, especially on sitcoms<\/a>, which is what makes revisiting it now so refreshing. It is vanishingly rare in the current cinematic climate to see a mother-daughter relationship so fully rendered in all its unpredictable agony and devotion, and characters so fully embodied by such capable actresses. Building from Larry McMurtry\u2019s 1975 source novel, Brooks has a light touch with the material that surely comes from years of working on series like The Mary Tyler Moore Show<\/em> and Taxi<\/em>. The script is an ambitious leap in comparison, but one he felt he had to make. \u201cWhen I broke into movies, it was hard for anyone who had previously worked in television to break into the movies. It’s easier now, but was almost impossible back then,\u201d he said<\/a> in 2000. <\/p>\n\n\n\n That Endearment<\/em> took four years to complete also comes across in the finished product, not in the sense that it feels overworked but lived-in. Even the gauzy cinematography suggests the comforting texture of a hand-me-down. The plot covers three decades in the diverging lives of mother Aurora (Shirley MacLaine) and daughter Emma (Debra Winger), and the two women clearly change in significant ways over that time without the film resorting to creaky old age effects or even much in the way of obvious period markers. It\u2019s as if the world beyond their domestic spheres has little impact on their existence. Brooks\u2019s canvas is thus decidedly small scale, but he makes up for it by coaxing big emotions from his leads. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Aurora\u2019s overbearing form of mothering is established from the start: before the opening credits even roll, she climbs into baby Emma\u2019s crib, high heels and all, because she\u2019s worried her daughter isn\u2019t breathing. She then pinches her until she cries. In quick succession we\u2019re shuffled through Aurora\u2019s early widowhood, Emma\u2019s teenage years, and her hasty marriage to callow college professor Flap (Jeff Daniels), who will prove a disappointment to both women. Brooks paces the events swiftly \u2013 one child for Emma soon becomes three, money troubles flare up and fade, extramarital affairs begin and end. Given how much the last forty minutes of the film loom large in the popular imagination, it\u2019s easy to forget that Aurora and Emma spend the majority of the movie apart. But their connection is the beating heart of the film, which is partly what makes that last forty minutes so touching. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Before that, though, Aurora spends a good portion of her time sparring with Garrett Breedlove (Jack Nicholson), the gone-to-seed astronaut playboy who lives next door to her. Garrett, to my immense surprise when I eventually read it, does not figure at all in McMurty\u2019s book; he is a pure Brooks invention, one he originally intended for Burt Reynolds. Reynolds was already committed to another role but his loss is the world\u2019s gain. It\u2019s great fun to watch the yin of MacLaine\u2019s classic Hollywood background crackle against the yang of Nicholson\u2019s more freewheeling style as Garrett slowly breaks down the shellac of Aurora\u2019s Southern belle exterior. In some ways, it was Nicholson\u2019s first true romantic lead; certainly his recent work in The Shining<\/em> and The Postman Always Rings Twice<\/em> didn\u2019t suggest a natural affinity for such parts. But Brooks clearly relished having him the role as well, and the two would work together three more times \u2013 Garrett\u2019s quip that Aurora \u201cbring[s] out the devil in\u201d him rhymes nicely with the (in)famous \u201cYou make me want to be a better man\u201d line in As Good As It Gets<\/em>. The film\u2019s comically candid attitude towards sex feels true to life, too, as both Aurora and Emma fumble with their suitors\u2019 awkward attempts at intimacy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s because of the care Brooks and his performers take in setting up the idiosyncratic habits and desires of Aurora and Emma that the final act \u2013 when Emma\u2019s cancer is discovered and she bravely succumbs to it \u2013 works as well as it does. McMurtry\u2019s novel deals with it only glancingly and with a forthrightness that feels deeply Texan, as if her death is simply another tragedy in a long line of them. Such principled dispassion would be difficult to convey on film, and Brooks doesn\u2019t try. While lesser films often use terminal illness as a tool wielded against viewers, Brooks wields it against his characters instead, confronting two distinctly strong women with one of the only things that can truly break them.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n Audiences responded in a big way, and a flurry of female-centric tearjerkers followed. Few were able to capture the delicate emotional balance that Terms of Endearment <\/em>achieved, including the sequel The Evening Star<\/em> thirteen years later, which Brooks was not involved in. The double-edged sword of creating memorable big characters is that they can sometimes overwhelm a legacy. \u201cDon\u2019t worship me until I\u2019ve earned it,\u201d Aurora scolds an eager Don Juan early in the film. Forty years later, we can finally see her on her own terms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Terms of Endearment” is streaming on PlutoTV<\/a> and Hoopla<\/a>, and was recently released on 4K UHD Blu-ray<\/a> by Paramount.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/12\/terms2-1024x575.jpg\")
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