The Movie "Precious" Tells Two Stories at Once

Warning: Major spoilers ahead

I loved the movie Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire because it told me two moving stories at once.

The film's first story is about Precious herself, a character whose endlessly miserable life is like something out of The Trojan Women: When she's not getting raped and impregnated by her father, she's getting sexually, physically, and verbally abused by her mother Mary (Mo'Nique.) She even gets pushed around by strangers on the street.

I found myself rooting for Precious, caring for her, right away. That's partly because of Gabourey "Gabby" Sidibe's crazy-magical acting. Even though Precious guards herself by shutting down whenever her mother is around, we can always see what's crackling beneath the girl's surface. We can see that she still has the capacity for happiness and tenderness and love, even if she doesn't have an outlet for them.

Precious' inner life is expanded by director Lee Daniels and screenwriter Geoffrey Fletcher, who add fantasy sequences that aren't in Sapphire's novel. While Precious is getting raped, for instance, she imagines herself at a movie premiere. When her mother is viciously forcing her to overeat, Precious imagines she's in a Sofia Loren movie, where her mother treats her like she's a countess.

These scenes are stirring because they show us the Precious that wants to be born. Buried inside her miserable life, there's a sweet, thoughtful, poetic young woman, and when the movie cuts back to the world where she's forced to live, the brief vision of her imagination has made her reality even harder to watch.

But that's not what breaks my heart. What really gets me---what has got me tearing up right now, frankly---are the little ways Precious does try to bring her fantasy life into reality. There's this one scene where Precious leaves the house to go to an alternative school---she's been kicked out of her regular school---and before she goes, she carefully matches her headband to her t-shirt.

In other words, she makes an effort to look nice before strolling through the battlefield. Daniels heavily underlines the bleakness of Harlem, and that sense of hopelessness knocks me back like a stench. And yet here's Precious, the most pitiful case in a pitiful world, still caring enough to look cute.

As much as any fantasy sequence, that gesture reveals the girl inside the shell. You don't dress up unless you hope that someone will see you. Unless you want to be seen. Once she put that headband on, I wanted to run into the movie, tell Precious she was beautiful, and then take her out of there. I wanted to save her because she was still trying to save herself.

And that's the thrust of the "Precious story:" A girl who has no reason to live keeps finding reasons to live. She gets stomped and stomped and stomped, but she still goes to an alternative school that will help her learn to read and write; she still does sweet things for her baby; and she still tries to make friends.

If this were Slumdog Millionaire, that kind of resilience would send Precious to a better life. But this isn't Slumdog Millionaire. At the climax of the film, we learn that Precious's father has died of HIV. Her baby doesn't have it, but Precious does.

So for all her imagination and spark, Precious is going to die. (For a poor black woman in Harlem in 1987, HIV was a death sentence.) All that work she's doing, and she cannot save herself. The Precious story doesn't end with hope---with the dream of our heroine's future---because our heroine has no future. All she can do is live her final days with as much happiness and dignity as possible.

But there is hope in this film. It's in the "system story."

To paraphrase Roger Ebert's review, the film's hope comes from alternative school teacher Blu Rain (Paula Patton) and from social worker Mrs. Weiss (Mariah Carey), both of whom see Precious' terrible life and want to help her.

Both of these women are part of a system of social aid, and in this movie, that system stops the long, terrible cycle in Precious' family. First, in the form of Ms. Rain's class, it teaches Precious that she doesn't have to be part of the abusive legacy anymore---that she can love herself. Then, in a breathtaking scene in Mrs. Weiss' office, the system gets Mary to explain why she's so terrible, which seems to make Mary feel some empathy for her daughter. And then, in one of the last moments of the film, Precious tells her mother that's she's never coming home. She takes her newborn baby and she leaves.

That's where the system really works. It's too late for Precious, but because of the system's support, she takes an action that might free her son from his mother's miserable fate. She sets him on a path toward self-confidence and love.

That reminds me of the end of the Oresteia, when the Furies become the Eumenides. No one can raise the Greeks who have died, but the people can take mournful comfort in knowing that it doesn't have to be this way anymore. Precious doesn't get a happy ending, but as she heads toward her own death, she can know that a happy ending may be possible for her child.

Of course, Precious takes place in 1987. We can go to Harlem right now and see that there are still plenty of people who suffer there. So what should we do about it? Should we pump our energy into the systems that try to help the poor and abused? Maybe we should. Maybe we can spare the next generation from the fate that befell their ancestors. Precious, at least, encourages us to try.

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Comments

[AWOL2009]

I have a hard time with these reviews of Precious, but more so with the audience I saw it with at Magic Johnson’s 125th Street theater today, a few blocks from the Hotel Theresa where the alternative school Each One Teach One in the movie is located. Recognizing the neighborhood in the film charmed the audience, as though fame might accrue by osmosis. It is the same celebrity escapism that gets Precious through her traumatic days. The resounding applause at so many points in the film saddened me even more than what was being so disturbingly depicted on screen. This girl has made it this far in the public school system despite being unable to read or write. The crowd went wild when her test score went up a few points, making her eligible for workfare. All seemed to want to find a redemption message, here, in a story of systemic failure. She is an illiterate 16-year-old girl who has suffered a lifetime of abuse and she lives in a halfway house. She is unemployable, she is going to die of AIDS or obesity -- whichever gets her first -- with no healthcare safety net, and her Downs Syndrome child named Mongoloid is destined to have an equally precious life after her mother’s death. In what way am I supposed to feel uplifted about these circumstances? I fail to see the triumph or salvation that all of these reviews see, I see only despair and no believable plan for change.

[sciphy]

Because government and society cannot begin to right the wrongs until the individual wants it to be better.

[sciphy]

The 80s were a horrible time for HIV positive people, especially women and children. As a physician, it was among the most difficult time I ever known, because there was so little medically to offer. I will never forget a young woman whom I counseled to end a pregnancy because she was HIV positive. I wish I knew then the future that protease inhibitors held.

[debbysteinberg]

This is by far the best review of Precious I've read. I completely side with you on the matching headband effort. While there are people in the world who are crying over spilt milk, here is a young lady who is suffering in a way that no one can begin to envision themselves suffering, and yet she makes it a point to feel a little good about herself.

The sad reality is that people really go through the issues that Precious faces in this film. I didn't have it as bad as Precious did by any stretch, but I did come from an abusive household and can resonate with her character in some ways.

Thank you for posting this. Brilliant.

[exhiliration]

I have not watched this movie before, but from what I read I know a precious. about 10 years ago my mother worked as a social worker in downtown baltimore. there was this girl who was brown in complexion not even as dark as precious played by gabby sidibe. I am highlighting her complexion because this young girl was 13 and lived with her grandmother. Her mother was a drug addict and nowhere known. Her father was absent too. this 13 yr old girl's grandmother would call her all manners of names and beat her with all types of hard objects... why? the girl was too dark skinned. the grandmother was light skinned, and so was the mother but the drug addict mother had paired with a dark skinned man. The girl's sister was very light skinned and the grandmother adored her. the girl was deeply depressed, deeply depressed but she could be so nice. she got really moody whenever it was time to take her home. it was horrible what went on in that young girls life. my mother left that job and about 5 years ago she said she saw the girl again, with two young children. People tend to look down on black women. the thing there is that people dont know what certain black women go through. esp because they never say what they go through. all you see is them acting out of character and being moody. I say we never judge anyone ever again.

[Robin08]

It's really interesting how people see the same thing so differently.

The scene that broke Mark's heart was totally inconsequential for me.

The movie wasn't a tear jerker for me. I was moved by the sadness, the loneliness, and the horrific hurt in Precious' life, but not moved to tears. The character was so likeable, so resilient considering her circumstances and quite funny at times, I felt more of her hope than her pain.

The character that really intrigued me was her mother Mary, played by Monique. Monique surely deserves an Oscar for that performance. She was serial killer scary throughout the movie yet able to reveal the humanity of her character toward the end. She played the hell out of that part.

[amylgomez]

Mark, thanks for capturing exactly what I loved about this movie. Interestingly enough, as I was leaving the theater, the couple exiting next to be was discussing the issue they had with all of the film's hope coming from the two "almost white" characters. (the teacher and the social worker.) They felt it undermined the film's power as a 'black' film. I can't say I agree with them, although I certainly understand where their issue comes from.