Once in a while, a movie grabs the big prize but doesn’t tick off any expected boxes for an Oscar-winner. Terms of Endearment is none of the following: a sweeping epic, a taboo subject, a tale of triumph over adversity, an inspirational biography, or a groundbreaking cinematic achievement. Just like It Happened One Night back in 1934, this film rose to the attention of the Academy and took home top honors simply because it’s that good. Watching it today, I realize every aspect of it is the “best.” The direction, screenplay, performances, editing, art direction, costumes, and music aren’t flashy or obvious choices, but they are perfection—exactly what’s needed to serve this story, which, on the surface, isn’t all that special. When I was growing up, we would joke about those “disease of the week” movies on TV, and if you boil Terms of Endearment down to its most basic core, this is a disease-of-the-week movie. It’s also the best one ever made.

Most of its running time isn’t spent wallowing in pity or hospital waiting rooms but rather on an appealing setup, which is essentially a comedy focused on a strained, complex, and candid mother-daughter relationship. Aurora Greenway (Shirley MacLaine in an Oscar-winning performance) is the compulsive, clingy, overly protective mother of Emma (Debra Winger in an equally worthy performance). Emma is her spontaneous, free-wheeling, quirky, defiant daughter who gets stoned while listening to Ethel Merman records with her best friend Patsy (Lisa Hart Carroll). Against her mother’s wishes, Emma marries Flap Horton (Jeff Daniels), a penniless, would-be college professor. Over time, they have three kids, and their marriage begins to fray at the edges. Meanwhile, Aurora decorates her life with a string of meaningless suitors (Danny DeVito, Edward Johnson) while eyeing her next-door neighbor Garrett Breedlove (Oscar-winner Jack Nicholson), an aging astronaut who chases younger women. Despite the friction between them, they meet on the common ground of “midlife crisis” and enjoy a torrid and often hilarious romance together.

Deborah Winger and Shirley MacLaine.

The actors truly shine throughout. Winger is fearless in her approach to each scene. I have rarely witnessed such an unfiltered screen performance. Nothing seems rehearsed or indicated, and she makes the ordinary seem extraordinary. By contrast, MacLaine’s character requires forethought, calculation, and restraint, but there isn’t a false move to be found. Nicholson is bold and vulgar and often very funny as he segues from foggy haze to focused zinger.

Jack Nicholson and Shirley MacLaine.

Then everything changes during a routine appointment for a flu shot. Emma’s doctor finds a pair of lumps under her arm, and after a series of tests, we learn that she has cancer. While there are still good laughs along the way, the film shifts focus and tone. It’s now a drama, without question. I would also venture to say the earlier scenes are dominated by Winger and her off-the-cuff presence. The latter scenes are owned by MacLaine, however, who breaks my heart while she champions her daughter’s care. It’s a shame these two didn’t tie for Best Actress, but given the fact that Winger was fairly new in films while MacLaine was in her fourth decade of delivering great performances in top-notch classics, I’m glad she took home the award. In all other instances where two leading actresses from the same film have competed against each other, neither won the Oscar.

Perhaps not enough credit is given to James L. Brooks, the successful television genius behind such hits (up to that point) as Room 222, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and Taxi. Brooks’s understanding of overall pacing and the timing of dialogue translate beautifully in his debut effort as a movie director. It’s also worth noting the child performances throughout, particularly Huckleberry Fox as the quiet middle-child Teddy. I’m reduced to tears every time he says his final goodbye to his mother Emma in the hospital. But all of the children, including the younger versions of these kids, deserve high praise.

Troy Bishop, Huckleberry Fox, and Deborah Winger.

In the end, Terms of Endearment resonates. It stays with me, long after it’s over—not because I’m left pondering the subject matter. Simply because it reminds me of just how good movies can be.

Terms of Endearment