"Momma that's the first time I stopped hugging first": A wonderful tribute to a complex relationship

Apologies for the hiatus. It was out of my control, unfortunately, but we should be back on track now.

This edition of the ‘Short Cut’ was inspired by my mother. Most people don’t talk to me about films, most likely out of fear that I will go on a rant, but, on occasion, my mother is willing to fill me in on what she’s been watching and recently she triggered a memory. It is therefore fitting to talk about a film that’s about the mother/daughter relationship, so this week’s post will be about Terms of Endearment (I will not be abbreviating for obvious reasons).

Many films of the 80s appear, at least on a surface level, to be about very little, very superficial; more about the fame of the actors rather than the film. But when you look into them, they can be deep and meaningful. They have an art-house storyline quality without the pompousness.

Terms of Endearment follows the complex but heartwarming story of mother Aurora and her daughter Emma. Aurora is neurotic, and highly strung and, while her daughter may think she is nothing like her mother, they are more similar than not. Aurora is looking for love and her daughter is trying to navigate her life as a mother and wife.

This film was nominated for and won, several Oscars and it is easy to see why. It's a wonderful and relatable story with an incredible cast. You could write an essay on each individual performance. With a cast made up of such big names, each actor manages to hold their own though.

The mother/daughter relationship is one that gets covered time and time again. In recent years, films have decided to capture the more difficult aspects of the relationship, often depicting less maternal mothers, whereas films of the 30s and 40s tend to focus on that deep emotional connection and the lengths mothers are willing to go for their children. I feel as though we have been moving towards unrealistic depictions of this dynamic, but Terms of Endearment will remain one of the truly genuine depictions of the relationship.

One of the great features of this film, and, indeed, films from the 80s, is its self-effacing approach to narrative. When films lose their reality, they lose their audience. Unless you are a true cinephile, you will most likely give up on a film that you cannot relate to and that feels removed from real life. Even the most ‘out there’ films will have a fallible character because you need one. The seemingly wacky yet mainstream films of the 80s may seem to lack depth, but they have a vulnerability and egoless quality that makes them both timeless and charming.

I am here to analyse, not gush, so I will move on. There are serious spoilers ahead, which is unavoidable. As Aurora and Emma are navigating their complex lives, Emma gets a devastating diagnosis of progressive cancer and everyone’s life changes. The scene up for discussion this week comes at one of the film’s most emotional peaks.

Emma is dying and must make her goodbyes as well as make peace. Death is perhaps one of the more difficult things to represent when it comes to film. You would imagine it would be easy, but it can be a struggle to do genuinely, to keep its gravity without being over the top. What keeps this scene truly is the acting and the dialogue.

The emotional gravity of the scene is down to the performers and the writers. The cinematography, lighting, and even music are incidental. Emma’s mother and husband sit by her bedside, waiting for her to die. Emma knows her moment is here. Her husband is asleep, but he waits by her beside, conscious of every movement she makes. Emma looks to her mother and is able to give a wave goodbye and the two women exchange what will be their final smiles to each other.

This scene has all the potential to be totally cringeworthy, but it is what happens after Emma’s passing that makes this scene iconic. The reality of what’s just happened is settling in for Aurora. She quietly hyperventilates while switching between looking at her daughter and looking away. The nurse tells her husband she’s gone and he slowly comes to grips with what has just happened and stands by his wife. Aurora leaps to her feet and says what is probably the most human and complicated thing about death.

Aurora speaks about how she thought she would feel relieved after Emma passed, but realises she was stupid to even think that. She falls into her son-in-law’s arms and cries, realising that there is nothing harder in the world than losing someone you love, especially your child.

This scene has such elegance and beauty for such a difficult topic. It confronts some of the most complex moral questions we face: is it a blessing or a curse when a loved one who is suffering leaves us? Is it selfish to want them to stay or even to leave?

Emma knows she’s going, which is probably one of the saddest notions we face; knowing one is about to die and enter the unknown. Her goodbye is so simple and genuine, but also painfully quick; not some over-the-top, melodramatic, dragged-out goodbye. In this scene, we still weep though because it feels true.

Every performance is perfect, Debra Winger as Emma seems to have the easiest job, I mean all she has to do is die, but pretending to die is surprisingly difficult to pull off. She gives a cheeky grin to her Mother, saying so much while saying nothing, exchange only the two will understand, but her face also looks sad and frightened. Her breath is slightly laboured and she gently drifts away. So much is said and not a word is spoken, but we feel her life, her fear and her sadness.

Jeff Daniels as her husband, Flap, has been asleep and has totally missed her dying moments. He rises to his feet and has a look of total disbelief on his face the entire time, even as he begins to comfort his grieving mother-in-law.

Shirley MacLaine as Aurora is the star of this scene. She smiles at her daughter’s private goodbye. As the nurse comes in to switch off the machines, she tries desperately to keep it all together and she does momentarily, until the gravity of what she has lost sinks in and she can’t help but break down. She perfectly embodies the process of grief and all its complexities.

Death is part of life, one we understand little about and grief is one of the most complex emotions we experience. This simple scene is filled with subtle nuances, but it’s these subtleties that make the scene so relatable and effective. It captures how simple and complicated death simultaneously is and the range of emotions that those who are left beside struggle to deal with.