Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire (2009)

2 years ago

Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire (2009)

PRECIOUS

Chances are you’ve heard some buzz regarding Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire over the past few months. Executive produced by the likes of Oprah and Tyler Perry, it’s a fictional account of a young girl in Harlem having the misfortune of being born into a shitshow all her own.

And a shitshow it is. Precious, the eponymous main character, is a sixteen year old girl on her second pregnancy, the product of her own father, emotionally and physically abused by her mother. Let’s just get that out of the way right here: this isn’t a family comedy. In fact, once you’ve seen the trailer, it’s likely you’ve already decided whether you’ll see it. You either want to be bombarded by something like that, or you don’t.

It’s easy to argue that you don’t want your feelings manipulated, or don’t want to ruin your day, but this isn’t Dancer in the Dark, or Requiem for a Dream. Precious is ostensibly about hope. Precious detaches herself from her life to dream up visions of stardom: walking down the red carpet signing autographs, being fawned over by adoring crowds. She does the same thing we all do at sixteen and beyond: dreaming of something better.

The performances are brave. Mariah Carey sans make-up (who, wonderfully, ends up being more real than she has ever been to me, the hint of a mustache across her upper lip), plays a concerned welfare officer. Paula Patton portrays Precious’ teacher, Ms. Blu Rains, with the patience one wishes could be in every classroom. And Mo’Nique, as Precious’ mother, is heartbreaking in her transitions between cold indifference and dark fury. But Gabourey Sidibe, as Precious herself, is the star here, projecting slight rays of hope through a veneer of the tired inevitability of her life.

Sent to a new “alternative” school (“What this is?” she asks the admissions woman), Precious is placed in a small class with her devoted teacher, Ms. Rains, where for the first time she is told that she can do something, told to push. She went through all other English classes earning an A- without saying a word and without learning much either, but in her new class she is finally able to emerge enough to actually be there, existing in the moment without any flights of fancy.

And so it goes. The strength of Precious is that even though it may not be real, it is based in reality. The filmmakers won’t pull any punches or back away from their subject, but you also won’t ever be manipulated into feeling something that wasn’t there. Every scene could end in disaster, not because they want to sucker punch you, but because it is the reality of Precious’ life. In the same way she wants to escape into her imagination, we inevitably want to escape into a happy ending, but the film won’t let us.

I’m reminded of Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, where O’Brien discusses the truth behind Vietnam stories. It’s never about the story and whether it’s fact or fiction, but whether it conveys the truth of that world. Precious is like that. I don’t know if there are obese girls in Harlem raped by their fathers and abused by their mothers, but I don’t have to; the film has helped me know the general by showing me the specific.

Without resorting to manipulation, the film portrays a tragic life, but instead of being hardened by the severity of Precious, I’m softened by its sincerity. As Precious’ illusions are tossed away, so are our own and we are left with this stark picture. By refusing to see Precious, perhaps you’ll protect yourself from a troubling and foreign reality - but with the same hand, you’ll be denying that there can be hope in such a reality. And that, more than anything out of the film, is something worth knowing.