Rosalind Wiseman

After experiencing the movie Precious (based on the novel Push by Saphire) last Sunday, I felt a little like I’d survived a natural disaster. (Perhaps surprisingly, I’m not referring to Mariah Carey’s acting, which was pleasantly void of all, well, Glitter.) The film, directed by the lesser-known Lee Daniels and financially backed by this lady named Oprah, left me exhausted, shaken, and hesitatingly inspired to appreciate my many privileges. My mixed reaction was not unusual; reviews of Precious run the gammot from fervent praise, to articulately balanced interpretations, to calling it the most racist movie since the KKK propaganda film Birth of a Nation. But regardless of where you stand, this is a thought-provoking film for adults to see and discuss.

Clareece “Precious” Jones, a 16-year-old illiterate, obese young woman, is kicked out of high school for being pregnant for the second time with her father’s child. Her mother is an abusive crack addict who fills her days with watching television in her Harlem apartment and telling Precious that she’s too dumb and fat to succeed, so she better go to the Welfare Office instead of the alternative school suggested by her public school principal.

In one of Precious’ voiceovers, she quotes Ms. Rain, the teacher of her alternative ed literacy course: “‘even the longest journey begins with a single step’ — whatever that means.” This film is a painstaking look at the obstacles an (extremely) “out of the box” young woman faces in order to take her first step towards developing her voice and, consequently, her sense of dignity. Though Precious’s obstacles seem a compilation of worst-case-scenarios of poverty — obesity, rape, illiteracy, abuse, and humiliation in school — her isolation, love/hate relationship with the images of grandeur and femininity on television, and desire to be inside the box ring true to many, regardless of socioeconomic status.

Precious’s relationship with television is as turbulent as it is familiar. “I want to be on the cover of a magazine,” Precious says, narrating her aspirational relationship with media, “I wish I had a light skinned boyfriend with real nice hair. But first, I wanna be in one of them BET music videos.” During her most traumatic moments, Precious dreams in television, imagining herself as a beloved movie star, a glam music video dancer, and even an Italian actress. However, these images of perfection have dire consequences for her self esteem; in one particularly heartbreaking depiction of self-rejection, Precious sees white, thin, glamourous blonde woman in her own reflection. As in the lives of many girls her age, the television is both her escape and her tormenter.

By forming solid (though sometimes antagonistic) relationships with the other “out of the box” women in her alternative ed class, learning to read and write, and even having her second child, Precious learns to speak her truth. The movie doesn’t end with Precious earning her college diploma or making more money than Oprah. Instead, while she still has miles to go, Precious has made the first step — learning to stand up for herself with words. Where the film began with a silent high schooler resorting to physical violence to express her anger, it ends with her stating her rights, capabilities, and independence.

Precious is a strong character who fights to take her first step out of hell. For young people or those who struggle, she is an incredible role model. However, this movie is (appropriately) rated R, and is thus directed at adults — adults who could change the lives of children like Precious. I was therefore so disappointed to discover that the adult role models in the film are unfamiliar, seemingly unattainable, and underdeveloped.

Precious is so inspiring largely due to her complexity and faults that make her relatable. However, the adults that surround her are strictly saints or demons, and their appearances and characteristics exemplify the “in the box/out of the box” framework. Her evil parents are overweight, uneducated, and makeup-less. The “savior” characters — a male nurse played by Lenny Kravitz, a social worker played by Mariah Carey, and the alternative ed teacher played by Paula Patton — fit inside their gender boxes almost perfectly. Thin, light skinned, educated, and unrelentingly supportive, the savior characters never hesitate to cross the boundaries of their respective professions for Precious’ betterment. In one scene, Precious’ classmates look on as Kravitz kisses Precious’s forehead while she sits on her hospital bed. Movieworld: touching moment; realworld: touching lawsuit.

Though the film may miss its mark with the adults, I still highly recommend preparing for the semi-permanence of your oh-my-god face and seeing the movie with a group of open-minded adult friends. When the shock begins to wear, enjoy your Crossfire-esque debate over the many implications of this film. Though this might not be an ideal teaching tool for kids in a school setting because of the movie’s ‘R’ rating, but it offers wonderful fodder for adult conversation.

If you choose to see the movie, use these questions as a starting point:

• Is television a positive or negative influence in Precious’ life? How does it function in her relationship with her mother?
• How is food depicted in the film? Why does everybody keep talking about McDonald’s?
• What role does humor have in the film — both for the characters and the audience?
• How are the relationships between the alternative education class helpful and harmful? How are they different from those shown at Precious’ public school? How does Ms. Rain diffuse confrontation?
• What role does Ms. Rain play in Precious’ development? How does she help Precious succeed? Is this a realistic depiction of a great teacher, and what can you learn from her methods?
• Why is this film opening in select cities? Who is the target audience? Bonus: Who was in the theater with you?
• How does the film support and debunk gender and racial expectations?