"Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire"
(2010, Lee Daniels, USA)
Average Contributor Rating: 
based on four reviews, displayed below in descending order.
Nominated for multiple Oscars, rave reviews, hard-hitting subject matter. Ridiculous title. These things boded well for a good (if probably not entertaining) experience. Well, except for the title. These considerations had been tempered by an increasing number of negative reviews on the 'net. Sadly, what the experience became was not one of a truly awful film, but one of so many individual faults that the sum became overwhelming.
The film is of an unrelentingly downbeat story. Incestuous paedophiliac rape, domestic abuse; these are Big Topics, and need a suitably broad canvas. What they pointedly don't need is poor attempts at sanitising by inserting unnecessary fantasy sequences each time something hideous happens. Admittedly, these were added because of ratings issues in the US, but the manner in which they were shoehorned in shows a barely concealed contempt for both the ratings issues and, criminally, the audience. The film ends up being a predictable cycle of Plot-Point -> Horrible Event -> Fantasy Sequence, repeated ad nauseum. Repetition does not good film-making make. The performances are the film's one saving grace, creating characters which, if larger-than-life, are grounded in some twisted form of reality.
The fantasy sequences, last minute additions though they may have been, end up lessening the impact the horrific scenes on show should have had. Certainly they do give us a signposted insight into the mind of our eponymous protagonist, but it is of such obvious triteness that it stands in as stark contrast with the rest of the film as the garish colours of these sequences strike against the muted hues of the real-life segments. They pull us away from the relentless action just as we are becoming invested emotionally with the characters. When we discover a horrible truth, we don't want a feeble cut away to a fantasy fashion shoot. It's twee, and unnecessary.
The cyclical nature of the film's plot is not the only weak aspect of the direction. (The Oscar nomination for Best Director is inexplicable.) The second act section with Precious in the Each One Teach One school takes on elements of the "troubled children, inspirational teacher" sub-genre that we have seen beaten into the ground in everything from Dead Poet's Society (1989) to Dangerous Minds (1996). Precious makes no further development on these films in this regard.
Perhaps the film's biggest sin however, is that it manages to make the potentially genuinely compelling subject matter - and there is plenty left unexplored for these subjects - dull. It's like giving someone the material to make a rollercoaster, and building the whole thing flat: the building blocks are there for an affecting, devastatingly tragic story, and we are given a story that barely registers. 
.TP.
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Has a film this Oscar baity ever been made? “Precious” follows a young, overweight, abused, under-intelligent, black, teenage girl (played by Gabourey Sidibe) with absolutely no self-confidence. Her mother (Golden Globe winner Mo’Nique) verbally abuses her, constantly belittling the teenager and watching on as her father rapes her. When we join her, Precious is pregnant with her father’s second child, which her Mom sees as proof that this man loves her child more than he loves her. Yes, this is a very Academy Awards film.
That “Precious” reaches out so far for the Awards people kind of tells you a lot of things about it before you begin watching. It’s a film that lives on emotion, creating a melodramatic feel and using some very obvious techniques to coax as much emotion possible out of both everyday movie goers and the Academy’s selectors. It follows a young girl who falls into one or more (in this case, a lot more) social or racial minorities. It has supposedly “important” themes, in this case parental abuse and the class divide, which aren’t really developed past a level which is understandable to both the common man and the head honchos. It’s a checklist, really, which Lee Daniels follows to the letter, creating a film that we’ve all seen so many, many times before, and although it’s effective in its goal, it’s hardly an original journey towards it. That’s not to say that this kind of film has to be bad by some sort of rule. Jumping back fifty years to Tony Richardson’s “A Taste of Honey”, we find an excellent example of a film that follows pretty much the same template as this year’s “Precious”. The differences between the two are quite obvious. “A Taste of Honey” was brave at the time, whilst “Precious” is simply a safe option for a studio or a distributor to invest in. “A Taste of Honey” takes the story and gives it its own twist, discussing different, original themes alongside the ones of social division, whilst “Precious” dwells wholly within its comfort zone. “A Taste of Honey” is exquisitely performed from leads to bit part players, whilst “Precious” is wildly inconsistent in its cast.
There are some decent performances here and there. Gabourey Sidibe is a decent find, delivering a performance which is adept even if it is hardly inspiring, whilst Mariah Carey is better than you’d expect her to be (even if that is more of a backhanded complement than anything else). The star is Paula Patton, who takes what should be a run-of-the-mill ‘mentor’ role and turns it into something more, something genuinely emotional, someone who actually cares for the film’s protagonist. The same can’t be said about Mo’Nique, though, who delivers an empty, contrived performance as the girl’s mother. She’s been rewarded with the Golden Globe award for Best Supporting Actress, which not only cheapens the award but also makes you question the sanity of the people choosing the winners. She phones her performance in from a distance, doing everything you’d expect her to with a character who is exactly what you’d expect from this kind of film. There’s no characterization here, and as a result the character simply feels like a cheap attempt to conjure up some emotion. It fails, instead conjuring up a feeling that you’ve been here at some point before.
But the worst thing about “Precious” isn’t that it’s terrible, but instead that it’s just so average. It’s a film so concerned about being recognized by Award ceremonies that it forgets to find the heart and soul in a character and story that should, if anything, be filled with such traits. It’s not a bad experience, and even if everything is phoned in you know exactly what you’re going to get. There are some half-decent moments, like Precious’ constant fantasies about becoming a famous model, or actress, or whatever. But it’s all just so predictable, so obvious, and so conventional that the impact and effect is lost in the mix. Not because it lacks clarity, but because it prides itself on it. And that’s the problem with “Precious”; it’s not precious. It’s ten-a-penny.
But still, it’s miles better than “Avatar”. . JB.
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This review contains spoilers. Precious is misery porn of the worst kind. Let's get that out of the way upfront. This is not some kind of vital, meaningful understanding of child abuse or life in the ghetto. This is the filmic equivalent of those Dave Pelzer books a few years ago that made a fortune out of human degradation. At times I actually had to ask myself if it was a parody. On the surface of it you'd expect this film to be played for laughs, because it does sound like an attempt to out-gross early John Waters. Precious is an illiterate ghetto teen, she already has one child with Down's Syndrome, and she's pregnant again after being raped by her father. Her mother is a monster who also abuses her and treats her like a servant. Oh, she also gets AIDS. The film follows her attempts to break away from the abusive cycle she's stuck in and actually get herself an education, thanks to the help of an angelic teacher named Blu Rain. Among the stars in this film are Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz and Mo'Nique. It can't be serious, right? Wrong. Daniels actually has pretensions that he's making a drama with depth and anger, but it doesn't feel like he actually has any understanding of humanity beyond that of a soap opera. Daniels thinks he's being raw and incisive, but it seems like he's really just after shock effect .This is an exploitation film that has somehow been mistaken for something profound. The stereotypes are so grotesque that the film would be rightly picketed if it came from a white director. At one point Precious even steals fried chicken. They might as well have had her chewing on a watermelon and spouting dialogue like 'Yessir massah'. I'm not saying that a film should only present positive portrayals of black life, but there's a difference between realism and crossing the line into stereotypical racist nonsense. I don't think Daniels is even aware a line exists. The worst example of Daniels' belief that he's creating art comes in the scene where he has Precious watching Two Women and then using it as the basis of one of her many cut-away fantasies. She may be an illiterate, obese, abused aids-stricken teen, but damn it all she can appreciate the transcendent power of Italian neo-realism.
Sidibe is good, far better than I expected her to be and her performance belongs in a decent film, one that doesn't feel like it's ticking off boxes in the Make-the-audience-feel-bad-to-make-them-feel-superior flow-chart. Mo'Nique is as dreadful as you'd expect if you've ever seen her act before. But if you go solely on the hype then you should be in for a crushing disappointment with her performance. She creates a lumbering monster, but it's a Springer-esque monster. There's no subtle shading in the character to make you realise she's just a very fucked up human. She's like Swank's family in Million Dollar Baby, simply there to be hateful and remind you how angelic our lead is. She's going to win an easy Oscar and far superior performances like Anna Kendrick and Vera Farmiga will be ignored.
The unbelievable amount of praise given to this film reeks of sanctimonious pandering, it plays to an audience who just want to wallow in the degradation of others while telling themselves they're seeing something important. And I actually have no problem with films being brutal and extreme and degrading; some of my favourite films wallow in the sewer. I'm perfectly willing to champion a film like Waterpower - The Enema Bandit, based solely on how powerful it is. But they are films that admit they're doing it, that's the crucial difference. They're by film-makers who know they're being exploitative and wear it like a badge of honour. They tell people outright that there's nothing to take seriously about the degradation in their films because it's all just for show. Trash like Precious tries to convince people it's important, that it's got some kind of message vital to society, and that's what I find disgusting. It reminds me of a British t.v. movie from the mid 90s called No Child Of Mine, where a teen girl is raped about 80 times by every member of her family and their friends. It wallows in these rapes and then says "look, isn't it terrible?" It's voyeuristic nonsense dressed up as social relevance.
This sledgehammer subtle, overwrought, ham-fisted, fuck-up of a film could have been entertaining. It might have gained a Mommie Dearest style cult where people dress up as Mo'Nique and throw televisions at other people in the theatre, or carry along dolls with a name-tag reading Mongo, instead it just becomes sickening and horrific in the worst sense of the word. I can't believe I'm saying this, but with Avatar and Precious as competition, I might just cheer on a Basterds best picture win. . DW.
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The Oscars are dangerous times for a film critic. Every year, there’s a few ‘anointed ones’, films you dare not attack for fear of being lynched by a mob of angry bloggers. In recent history, films like Brokeback Mountain, Slumdog Millionaire, The Dark Knight and Titanic have all held that title, and gods forbid if anyone decided to challenge it (the outroar over the perceived snubbing of Brokeback Mountain is a particularly distasteful example of this). This year, one of those films deemed ‘anointed’ is Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, and with it comes the threat of much derision if you happen to dislike it. Indeed, the internet is already bubbling over as critics who found Precious not to their liking are being labelled as racists and blind to the “truth”, whatever that is (the reaction to David Edelstein’s New York Magazine review is a good example, some of his unfortunate tactlessness aside). Of course, there will be the occasional critic whose hate of the film extends beyond mere artistic distaste and into more unpleasant areas, but not every person who has problems with Precious will be one of them. In fact, it’s a bit silly that one even has to write this caveat of his opinion – a critic should not have to assert that they are not racist or insensitive to the plight of the lower-classes in order to justify their opinion on a film. Because the problem with Precious isn’t that it’s a film about black people, or lower-class people. In fact, there’s no need to be deferential to it because it is about those things. The problem with Precious is that it is a bad film.
Precious’ synopsis is one that appears, on the face of it, to have been ripped from a book of hot-potato issues. Precious is an obese, black teenage girl growing up in Reagan-era Harlem, pregnant with her second child to her abusive and absent father. Her first child, derogatorily named Mongo, has Downs Syndrome, and her mother is an abusive, hateful, lazy, benefit-scrounging woman. She’s forced out of public school because of her second pregnancy and enrols in an alternative school where she finds self-realisation in journal-writing under the tutelage of a heavenly lesbian teacher. It’s a veritable grab-bag of Important Social Issues, and Lee Daniels deals with them in a manner that can best be described as misjudged. Daniels alternates between gritty, kitchen-sink direction and hyperstylised presentation with the grace of a decapitated chicken, severely nullifying the film’s potential impact. When Precious is raped by her father, Daniels plays it in slow motion and in close-ups on the father’s sweaty, muscular body, as if we are meant to marvel at the scene rather than be repulsed by it. An initially disturbing scene in which Precious’ mother Mary forces her to eat a meal because Mary doesn’t want it is deflated by a hilarious cut-away to a Whose Line is it Anyway-esque replay of the scene in Italian neo-realist style. At one point, Precious steals a bucket of fried chicken for breakfast, and it plays so easily into the hands of racist stereotypes of black people as to be absurd and bizarre. Daniels builds up the ugliness and drama of Precious’ Harlem, and then dashes it all with redundant fantasy sequences and horrible missteps in the narrative.
This problematic approach to what should be a hard-hitting and confrontational film is compounded by some of the galling aspects of Geoffrey Fletcher’s script. Fletcher’s script distastefully deifies the character based on Sapphire, the writer of the novel the book is based on, and plays unwittingly into the hands of racist stereotypes time and again, be it in the theft of the fried chicken outlined above or in the grotesque realisation of Reagan-era generalisations of lower-class black America that is Mary. The performances don’t help none, either – Mo’Nique’s performance is calculated and one-dimensional, all sound and fury, signifying nothing, and the small roles played by Lenny Kravitz and Mariah Carey only deserve praise because they’re not the worst examples of stunt casting in history. Gabourey Sidibe is solid as the titular Precious, with ever-visible reservoirs of sadness and anger behind her dark eyes, and Paula Patton makes the angelic Blue Rain human enough to be believable, but even they aren’t enough to save the film.
Precious is the kind of film that really needed someone working on it to openly express disbelief at what was being created before their eyes. So many aspects of the film are misguided and troublesome that it's hard to believe nobody noticed what was happening. It’s a film so obsessed with being important and with tackling the ‘tough issues’ that it feels self-important, and like people, self-important films are interminably boring. Just because your film tackles important social issues doesn’t make the film itself important – a lesson Daniels and Fletcher really should have learned before embarking on this film. . AG.
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