"You've done some bad things sweetie. Haven't you?"

Janine ‘Smurf’ Cody is a woman in control; her dominance, her ability to influence the world around her are what her life thrives upon. So naturally, when her grandson J calls to ask for help now that his mother, her daughter, has died from a heroin overdose, she cannot help but be happy. Happy, not because she has her grandson back, but happy because she has another planet stuck in her gravitational pull.

The brilliance about Jacki Weaver’s Academy Award nominated performance in Animal Kingdom is that this desire for control seamlessly flows throughout the whole performance, even if it is only in the latter act that her tree bears its fully-ripened fruit. In the opening act of the film, simple gestures establish a disguise for her character; the demands of a kiss (which she holds for just a little too long), pauses which linger throughout a conversation with J about his mother (again, for just a little too long). These tiny actions are meant to come across as tender, but behind them lies the beginnings of the rotten core we will soon discover.

The first flashes of a monster start to appear when the freedom of her sons is first at risk. Once her boys are first apprehended by the police, she scolds her son Pope while directing her other son Craig, her tone alternating between a false sensitivity and a threatened anger. Even in the most tragic of times, Weaver’s Smurf picks herself up remarkably quickly to ensure everything in her world remains well within her reach.

And then, in two core scenes, the monster that is Smurf fully reveals herself; two pivotal moments which Weaver manages to manoeuvre flawlessly. The quiet desperation in her voice is matched with a cold, calculated malice in her eyes, demanding attention, insisting on compliance; without batting an eyelid, she manipulates those around her to do her bidding. She ends her performance with a vibrant smugness on her face; once again, her world is in place, each piece fits just as she wanted it to…or does it?

Weaver plays each moment to perfection; there are so many small aspects of the role which most other actors would have underplayed or ignored, yet the intricacies in Weaver’s performance are what build the character. A detailed back-story for Smurf, detailing even her relationships with each of her children’s fathers, provides the ideal guide for Weaver to work within. It is this sort of minutiae which make the performance what it is: an extraordinarily complex and profound embodiment of a dark, highly intelligent sociopath, and a performance worthy of winning the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role.

Me vs. Haters: Why 'Kramer vs. Kramer' is one of the most important films of its time

Not five minutes into Kramer vs. Kramer, the audience is introduced to Joanna Kramer (played by a gorgeous, youthful Meryl Streep in her second straight Best Picture winner), nervously waiting for her husband Ted (Dustin Hoffman) to come home. Joanna is not the repressed, impotent mother of the fifties and sixties, dinner prepared and ready to welcome her husband with a kiss on the cheek as he walks through the front door. No, Joanna is about to leave Ted and their child Billy (Justin Henry) in order to go on a journey of self-discovery. And so begins the 52^nd winner of the Oscar for Best Picture.

The film establishes itself by clearly marking out what the film is: a story about family, and, perhaps most importantly, it’s a story about the changing, modern family unit. Once Streep is out of the picture (quite the powerful scene indeed), the film is able to give us these rich, gorgeous moments between Ted and Billy, and it’s here where the film glows most sentimentally. While at first, Ted faces difficulty in integrating the traditional paternal and maternal responsibilities of parenting, with a little help from neighbour Margaret (Jane Alexander), he does develop into a loving, tender father who is far more important in his child’s life than ever before. Watching this relationship grow is something of magnificence; Henry’s and Hoffman’s talents, combined with Robert Benson’s powerful screenplay, allow for this seedling of a relationship to grow into a blossoming, lively flower.

However, as the title of this film suggests, Joanna does come back into the picture and in another emotion-riddled scene between Streep and Hoffman, she announces her intention to fight for custody of their child. This custody battle is the dominant focus of the back end of the film, and although at times it teeters ever so slightly towards melodramatic, it somehow manages to remain in the realm of reality. Furthermore, this part of the film allows for the film to make its most compelling justification as to why this film deserved cinema’s highest honour; not only is this the story of a family’s breakdown, but it is the most prominent cinematic representation of the dissolution of the nuclear family in Western society.

The film contains this complex but beautiful interplay between patriarchy (“But somebody has to bring home the bacon!”) and second-wave feminism (“I was incapable of functioning in that home”), but perhaps most significantly, it offers its audience a critique of Western society’s infatuation with the customary nuclear family. As a law student particularly interested in family law, this is very much of interest to me, in that the film illustrates the many gaping holes within society’s traditional philosophy on the family. This is most poignantly illustrated by the many conventionally-maternal qualities which Hoffman’s character grows to embody, and the neglect of society (and of the law) to appreciate this transition. Hoffman’s metamorphosis from the strict paternal role to a more contemporary illustration of ‘the parent’ is sentimental, but it is also indicative of a wider problem in our society, and that is our determination to cement strict gender roles at the centre of both the private and public sphere. Kramer vs. Kramer is so important because it helps disassemble the myths which surround this, and in many ways it is far ahead of its time by making this assessment, one which is so often underappreciated by those who choose to ridicule this film and its win in the powerful year of cinema which was 1979.

Henry gives one of the all-time great child performances as Billy, quite clearly having being taught a great deal from Hoffman during this shoot. Hoffman himself gives the greatest performance I’ve seen of his career as Ted. From the intense veracity of his emotions which are expelled frequently with such vehement passion to the quieter, tender moments he shares with Billy, the performance is criminally underrated and one of the all-time greats. Streep is often the one who is bestowed the greatest claim of praise here, and no doubt she is very good. She breathed greater life into the film by re-writing some of her character’s dialogue, giving her character even more heart than what writer and director Benson was able to create. In her courtroom scene, she shines, and the final scene is a testament to her incredible skills. However, I think when compared to Hoffman, she lacks an intensity and passion which he provides to this film so easily. That said, she still gives one of the better performances of her career here.

Benson’s screenplay is just so manifestly dense in critique and his force on the film creates such a distinct and important message, indicative of a change sweeping through society at the time this film was released, and one which remains very relevant in today’s climate. This film is one of the most disputed winners of all-time, but for me it’s quite clear why it won, and, not only that, it’s quite clear why it deserved to win. With such an important message told in such an effective way, why would you argue?