Back at Sundance last year, when Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire was first unveiled for critics with little fanfare but high hopes, quite a few folks thought it would never see the light of day off the fest circuit.

Too dark, too depressing, too tragic … with little redemption or justice to buoy it up. And really, who wanted to see a movie about this grossly overweight, African American girl with squinty eyes, this downtrodden victim of incest and horrific verbal and physical abuse? Who wanted to see a movie about relentless poverty, darkness and despair?

The conundrum of Precious: would middle class white folks really pay to be immersed in a film about the kind of wrenching poverty they prefer to pretend doesn’t exist in their own backyards, as they zoom around in their minivans and Hummers to Whole Foods and pick their kids up at their nice, safe, tony private schools? Would they — could they? — connect with Precious and her plight?

“Smart” black audiences — the African American intelligentsia, as it were, who most likely know who Sapphire is even outside the context of this book (unlike Anthony Lane, who apparently does not) would be interested, no doubt, but what about the Black urban audience that flocks to laugh it up at Tyler Perry films? Would they support this dark vision of the life of a poor African American girl who nobody seems to care about, or would they shun the film as too dark, too close to home, too depressing — even with support from the likes of Oprah and Tyler Perry himself?

Although Precious performed very well with arthouse audiences last weekend and talk of Oscar swirls around stars Gabby Sidibe and Mo’Nique like visions of naked-golden-man-statue sugarplums, the jury is still out on the Black Urban box office question. Nonetheless, as a film, Precious is still very deserving of being praised, and as a critic who fell in love with Precious back at Sundance, I feel compelled to encourage you, if you haven’t, to take the plunge and see this film, for there are many moments in there that are worth it.

What made Push: A Novel by Sapphire so remarkable is that it shows the raw resilience and courage of the human spirit. The main character’s life is a horror of gut-churning abuse at the hands of her mother Mary, played fiercely and fearlessly by Mo’Nique, who grabs hold of this repulsive character with all her strength and never lets go. She is raw and terrifying and she deserves absolutely the Oscar nomination she seems poised to receive. In my book she deserves it..

And then there is Gabby Sidibe, the young actress who faced the daunting challenge of bringing this very internal and introspective character to life for us on the screen and making us — middle class or poor, urban or suburban, white or black — care about Precious and her plight. The role of Precious demanded an actress with the bravery not just to own the part, but to embrace what Precious represents on an abstract level: all the unnamed children out there who suffer under the control of an abusive parent, who are crushed under the weight of the collective failure of systems intended to protect them … and the spirit they have that allows them to survive. Precious is every young girl or boy who’s ever been trampled on, spit on, mocked, abused, used, and yet risen above it… and Sidibe honors them with her brave performance of this challenging role..

Director Lee Daniels, for the most part, does a very able job in translating Sapphire‘s beloved literary work to the big screen, in part by supporting his lead actresses with some unexpectedly talented backup in the form of Paula Patton as the teacher who inspires Precious beyond her limitations, Lenny Kravitz as the empathetic Nurse John, and a de-glittered Mariah Carey (Seriously? Yes, seriously.) as an empathetic social worker. There’s a scene near the end of the film between Carey and Mo’Nique that is just an emotional kick to the guts; Mary, furious that Precious has abandoned her, slithers around emotionally, searching for the right tone to use in manipulating yet another social worker as she has so many times before.

This time, though, she unexpectedly stumbles upon heartbreaking honesty as she explains in halting tones her daughter’s long history of sexual abuse and her own reaction — and lack of action — to it.  In this raw, revealing, absolutely dreadful, heart-stopping moment, Mo’Nique owns Mary and her rage and shame completely, never backing down. It is a powerful moment in which we feel in full the weight of the mountain of maternal ineptitude that crushed Precious (and even Mary herself), and it is almost overwhelming.

These are the kinds of movie moments a cinephile like me lives for, and this scene is one of many reasons why I’ll be rooting for Precious at the box office and come Oscar day; Precious is not a perfect movie, perhaps, but it’s exactly the kind of film we need to see more filmmakers reaching for: bold and daring and honest, challenging and smart.

– Kim Voynar
November 13, 2009

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