Lee Daniels’s Imperfectly Brilliant Precious

As its subtitle laboriously makes clear, Precious is Lee
Daniels’s movie adaptation of Sapphire’s 1996 novel Push, a
controversial best seller that was, among many other things, the
antithesis of made-for-Hollywood product. Set in the late ’80s,
Push chronicles the day-to-day existence of Precious Jones, an
illiterate, morbidly obese Harlem teen enduring a life of extreme
horror. Precious’s curriculum vitae of victimhood is extensive: Twice
raped into pregnancy by her father, she’s subjected to continual brutal
abuse at the hands of her mother. What passes for salvation comes in
the form of a writing teacher, who extends Precious some basic human
kindness and encourages her to tell her story. Melodrama is avoided
thanks to Sapphire’s style: Casting her book as a first-person
narrative written by an illiterate teen, Sapphire filled her pages with
brutally simple writing, almost musical with misspellings, that allowed
both the ridiculous horror of the abuse and the well-worn sentiment of
the salvation to ring true.

Fifteen years later comes Precious, which, like its
literary predecessor, announces itself with audacious style. Presenting
Precious’s nightmare of a life in sharp, gritty bursts, Daniels threads
his film with various stylistic experiments: scenes of Precious’s
school days flow like cinema verité after-school specials, while
her abuse-escaping fantasies are presented as gaudily real. It doesn’t
all work—the realized fantasies are particularly iffy—but
thanks to Daniels’s talent and his extraordinary cast,
Precious is a smart, scary ass-kicker.

About that cast: The almost fully female ensemble is excellent
across the board (underdog props for the ludicrously charming Xosha
Roquemore!), but three actors will deservedly get the lion’s share of
attention. As Precious, newcomer Gabourey Sidibe does exactly what’s
required of her and nothing more; it’s a performance as indebted to
Daniels as is it to Sidibe, and it’s perfect. As Precious’s social
worker, Mariah Carey gives a performance of
Glitter-obliterating restraint; I’ve never been more surprised
by a pop star’s acting endeavor. And as Precious’s monster of a mother,
Mo’Nique burns the fucking house down. She will win an Oscar, and she
will deserve it.