Precious, out for about a month now, was a tremendously complicated movie to attend. Audience members were divided on how to respond, vocally. How should people react to difficult art? Loudly or quietly? And if loudly, how? This problem took on an ethical dimension, and the sound of the theater became one of the key ways that viewers experienced the movie as a document of race and racial difference.
I made some recordings during and after one of the last screenings of the movie at the Bridge cinema de lux in Philadelphia. And Amina Robinson, who played Jermaine (pictured above), was kind enough to answer a few questions as well.
To first offer some minimal background for those who haven’t seen or otherwise heard much about the movie, Precious is an adaptation of a 1996 novel chronicling the harrowing difficulties of a 16-year-old girl growing up in deep poverty in Harlem. We see Precious, the title character, abused in just about every way imaginable, and the story piles her troubles on thick. The ending is hopeful, if not quite happy. Stylistically, extended sequences of grim realism are broken up by vignettes of playful, ironic fantasy, as well as some fleeting moments that border on normal adolescence. (More detailed plot summaries are widely available elsewhere.)
Critics were knocked backwards and sideways by this movie, to its immense credit. I’m not sure I read a single great review, but I certainly read plenty of painful ones. Somehow, Precious brought many critics to an irresponsibly simplistic conception of how race operates. Although the movie never claimed to speak for “black experience,” and in fact alluded to the fiction of any such singular experience (black characters spanned the socioeconomic spectrum), many writers missed this point entirely, and built entire arguments around a premise that existed only in their own nervous imaginations. And this was the case equally for those who loved and hated it.
Reading the reviews in aggregate offers a breathtaking picture of how inadequate our vocabulary for discussing race can be. The archaic presumptions left unquestioned by critics include, but are not limited to: that definitions of race are rigidly fixed; that race is only about black people and white people; that all black people are poor; that all black people see the world the same way; and that all white people are plagued by guilt. And not at all unconnected to the desperate poverty of wise commentary about race among film critics has been a persistent emphasis on race as an exclusively visual concept.
Listening to audiences watch Precious speaks to race and racial anxiety in ways that vision cannot. Unfortunately, almost all ethical questions raised about the movie in print so far have been about watching the main character. Is it therapeutic? Pornographic? How does the way YOU look affect your right to see her? But in truth, audiences do a lot more than watch during films. They listen, to the characters and to each other, and respond to both. In doing so, they open gaps that suggest nothing if not race’s perplexing contours.
At Precious, a culture of audience participation met awkwardly with a story whose villains and laugh lines were often ambiguous. On one hand (0 – :29 seconds), the movie had a wry sense of humor, even at serious moments. On the other hand (:29 – :58), the mother character, played by Mo’ Nique, was obviously a villain. But viewers disagreed as to whether her villainy was dead serious, a target for verbal outrage, or even a source of comic relief. I spoke to a young couple (:58 – 1:41) who had watched in a theater with an older woman who was so enraged by Mo’ Nique’s character that she yelled at the screen. Meanwhile, the couple found some moments, including a self-deprecating line about Precious’ weight (1:43 – 1:54), funny. Finally, a woman about my age outside the theater (1:55 – 2:55) was “appalled” by laughter at moments that she felt were inappropriate. She attributed such laughter to people being nervous about confronting the seriousness of the content.
I asked Amina Robinson about these kinds of reactions:
I actually had this conversation with one of my White co-workers. He asked why the African-Americans in the theater were laughing while it seemed the White people were appalled. I certainly have noticed that as well. When I’ve seen Precious with a lot of Black folks in the audience it is actually more funny throughout, just as when there has been mostly White people there is a lot of silence.
I find both very interesting. I can’t speak for all African-Americans, but some of us know the characters in this movie. When we see them and are confronted with this particular brand of pathology we identify with it and laugh. It feels good to know that you are not alone in what you’ve experienced. There is a certain justification. While other African-Americans see it, identify with it, and feel the strong push to deal with and heal it.
In reverse, many White people watching this movie seem to be being introduced to a part of life that they were ignorant to. So they get sucked into the world and are captivated and speechless. That is not to say that White people don’t deal with the issues in the film, because they do, but Precious is simply the Black version. It takes place in a world they may be unfamiliar with.
Personally, I laughed some and cried some. And I find any reaction to the film valid and worthy of discussion.
The disparity in reactions, ostensibly along racial lines, has led some viewers to extreme conclusions. A viewer in a forum on Oprah.com, writes:
I tried to talk about the film, process the themes and examine the extraordinary performances. I tried, but I could not escape the whole of the experience. I walked in a white woman and walked out a racist. Disgust with the audience became disgust in my heart, disappointment with myself and fear that my work as a teacher in the inner city was tainted by unclaimed/unacknowledged racism. I can escape neither my disgust with the audience nor my own sense of shame and loss. Is this the power of “Precious”, I wonder?
But, to put it bluntly, not every African-American laughed, and not every white person didn’t. However, for those unaccustomed to hearing interpretations vocalized during the movie, half of the audience, or even a handful of people, could easily stand in for everyone, or at least be a pesky distraction. Robinson describes the importance of responding authentically, regardless of one’s reasons:
We are human beings. We all have different experiences of life that affect how we view the world. We are as different as we are the same, and I think it does humanity and art an injustice to try to dictate how someone should respond to an artistic work.
I say laugh if you must, cry if you must. I do draw a line at talking in the theater though, because then you are ruining the movie for others. Other than that let the movie affect you as it does.
For Robinson, all viewers may relate to dramatic material differently. In an environment where loud response is normal, such relationships are not necessarily more fractured, just more public. This has benefits as well as drawbacks:
I can only speak from my experience when I say that I feel African-Americans like to connect to art in a very visceral way. We like to live our art, feel it, and breathe it. So when we are moved by something we become a part of it and enjoy communicating with it and adding our input. We do come from a tradition of call and response and I think that it can be a beautiful thing.
Aside from possibly that, I don’t think it is a racial issue. I think it is one of experience and identification. We as people connect in different ways to different things based on what they mean to us. Precious is a universal story of triumph over the odds, but it is still about a Black girl.
Clearly, listening to audiences watch Precious does not signal the end of racial difference. What it suggests, rather, is the danger of taking race at face value. Critics have been so quick to divide white and black viewers that they’ve missed the enormous interpretive divisions that the film has created among viewers of all racial self-identifications. This fact is much more audible than it is visible. But our audition has to be thorough. Just because we hear someone in a theater – or experience their silence – doesn’t mean we understand them, or even know what their reaction means.
Wow. Heck of a blog you've got going here– I'm glad you made mention of it over at Phonography. I'm subscribing to the RSS now. Keep up the good work!
Thanks, Dave.
curious if you have read ishmael reed's "review" of this film and the politics surrounding it. lengthy but worth mentioning as part of your post…
http://www.counterpunch.org/reed12042009.html
drzza:
Thanks for pointing this link out. Reed is right to draw attention to the politics of gender we might read in the film. Ideological disputes among feminists on the subject of race, and among advocates of racial equality on the subject of feminism, were quite common in the era of identity politics during which Precious is set. As Reed's review of the movie suggests, these disputes are far from resolved. And a critique of Precious as too grim in its portrayal of black men would not be unreasonable at all.
I do think, though, that Reed's argument suffers from the same problem as most reviews of the film. Namely, it assumes that the story is meant to speak for blackness as such. I just don't think this is true. While many people will undoubtedly read it that way, I didn't see the movie as a portrayal of the trials and tribulations of being black. I saw it as a portrayal of the trials and tribulations of Precious. The fact that the main character bears many specific stigmas is not irrelevant, but nor are those stigmas wholly constitutive of her world. I would go so far as to say that this is the point of the movie – that Precious' capacity for action extends beyond her environment. That she has a will. I suppose this could be a conservative message, but it doesn't strike me as being that way here. To the extent that Precious prevails, she does so because she is integrated into networks of public social services. This is a Great Society love story, not pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps condescension.
Reed's general claim that the film ultimately profits white puppeteers is perhaps the most problematic. Capitalism will always be more concerned with profit than the preservation of racial hierarchy; the latter is only desirable when it contributes to the former. Liberals once understood that racial division was a ploy to distract people from economic inequality. Reed reiterates this division rather than taking steps to understand its construction. This seems naive and counterproductive.
Precious is loosely based on a 32 year old student of Sapphire's that had a child when she was 12. Yes, Precious was illiterate, but she jumped from a primer reading level to seventh grade reading level in 1 year. I know girls like Precious in from various demographics. After a friend saw the movie she decided to volunteer in a women's homeless shelter. I sit on the bus and see young girls swinging three and four kids like they're in a circus act. Instead of complaining about the movie we need to figure a way to help those that want to be helped. I have helped strangers edited essays on people transit. Two teenagers yelled at a sells clerk in Staples, "Are yall hiring!" I stepped out of line and whispered to the young lady to return in a week dressing in proper attire, bring a lists of references, and info about way she should be hired. I then suggested that she say good morning or afternoon to the clerk and inquire if they are hiring in a business manor. Last, I told her to go to the free library to a Wednesday workshop on interview skills, and a address to get interview attire for those in need. This young lady is now working for the place where I sent her to get interviewing clothing.
Great blog, great post, got here via a link in the comments section of a NYT Carpetbagger piece on Precious. I think there's another lens that people can see this film through – not one of white skin or black skin – but one of poverty. I am white but grew up in the NYC projects. I wonder if a poor white from Appalachia saw this film or a poor Latino in L.A. saw this film what their sound reaction would be. I know I laughed in a few spots, I think mostly to deal with the girls in class and the male Nurse character, and stayed gripped by the story in other places. But I wasn't shocked by what I saw and I left feeling that hey, maybe the system as represented by the first principal and the Mariah Carey character, sometimes, just sometimes does work, providing that sense of hope and beyond a way out.
Guest:
It's a great point you make about the lens of poverty. I think it was very difficult for some viewers to think outside the parameters of race (and, to be sure, race was very present in the movie, but as you say it wasn't the only thing going on.) If any readers of this blog happened to make recordings in theaters – for instance, maybe somebody has a bootleg copy filmed during a showing? – it would be interesting to compare regional differences. Thanks for your comment.
I'm a black female that saw "Precious" with a mix audience and I was appalled on how blacks giggled at inappropriate scenes. Some didn't understand the content of the movie. There was a panel discussion that followed with a group of black so=called educators and they were just as ignorant as the audience members that laughed. Being called worthless and unattractive is not funny. The throwing of the TV was not funny. If Beyonce played "Precious" everyone would be happy. The movie was symbolic (i.e. When Precious was pushed by the young man sitting on the step a stray dog comforted her. The dog did not see race or size. The dog also appeared in a gospel seen with the man of her dreams holding him.) Did you know that the guy she dreamt about is her roommate in real life? Did you know that the movie won an award in Stockholm? Did you know that the movie was back by the heiress to Celestial Seasoning Tea Company? We have to stop thinking that only black people are abused. Lee Daniels was on WNPR with Terri Gross in September
I'm a black female that saw "Precious" with a mix audience and I was appalled on how blacks giggled at inappropriate scenes. Some didn't understand the content of the movie. There was a panel discussion that followed with a group of black so=called educators and they were just as ignorant as the audience members that laughed. Being called worthless and unattractive is not funny. The throwing of the TV was not funny. If Beyonce played "Precious" everyone would be happy. The movie was symbolic (i.e. When Precious was pushed by the young man sitting on the step a stray dog comforted her. The dog did not see race or size. The dog also appeared in a gospel seen with the man of her dreams holding him.) Did you know that the guy she dreamt about is her roommate in real life? Did you know that the movie won an award in Stockholm? Did you know that the movie was back by the heiress to Celestial Seasoning Tea Company? We have to stop thinking that only black people are abused. Lee Daniels was on WNPR with Terri Gross in September
Thanks for sharing your perspective, monique.
I’m late to this discussion — just discovered it — but I want to agree with Ms. Robinson’s observation that “laughter” doesn’t necessarily mean “ridicule.” I happend to be a writer who writes mostly about music, primarily blues and jazz. And I never stop having to educate white music lovers about the so-calle “sad” music of the blues. When they have the opportunity to attend a show at a predominantly Black venue, they’re always surprised to find how the most lugubriuos tales of hard luck and woe from the bandstand elicit guffaws of recognition from the audience!
My own reaction to the film itself was mixed. I was astounded by the acting –Sibide’s and Mo’Nique’s, especially– and in many ways I found it to be an uplifting tale, albeit one that dragged me through someone else’s hell to get to the uplifiting parts. Nonetheless, there were elements that disturbed me. I’m not as concerned with “What will racist whites think?” as some critics seem to be. Racist whites will think whatever they want to think, whether they see “Precious” or not. I’m more concerned with the message the film sends to the African-American community itself — not about the social problems depicted, which are real and must be addressed, but about the way we seem to be told that they should be addressed and, possibly, overcome.
It’s been widely noted that almost all of the positive characters in the movie are light-skinned (to say the least – most could easily pass for white), while the negative characters are dark-skinned. Coupled with the film’s unremittingly negative portrayal of “ghetto” life –in other words, “Black” life, as experienced by Precious and most of the people in her own personal circle– his sends a very insidious message. The ‘hood, according to this movie, is depraved and ugly beyond redemption. Between the darkness of all those complexions and the bleakness of the scenes from Precious’s life and environment, the message is clear: for Precious to be rescued, she needs to be rescued from nothing less than “Blackness” itself.
Why couldn’t Precious have garnered more empowerment and hope from her own rich heritage and culture? That scene where she was surrounded by video images of various historical African-American figures seemed gratuitous to me. Why couldn’t there have been at least one important character –someone from her own world, dark-skinned, poor, maybe living in her building or on her block, maybe an older Black woman who marched with Dr. King or heard Malcolm X speak in Harlem and then took to the streets as an activist– who could have provided a positive role model and inspiration for her?
The Hotel Theresa, where “Each One Teach One” was located, was once the place in Harlem where Black dignitaries –intellectuals, artists, performers and entertainers, international political and cultural figures– used to stay when they visited New York. Why couldn’t Precious have been made aware of this? Why couldn’t it have been part of her inspiration and her education? Instead, she seemed to spend most of her time in class reciting the alphabet and writing fairy tales.
And, not incidentally, why couldn’t there have been at least one “welfare mother” who was kind, nurturing, non-abusive, actually possessed good mothering skills, wanted the best for her children, and strove to help them attain it?
Finally –and most disturbingly– there’s the relentlessly individualistic vision of “freedom” and “liberation” that this film propagates (no doubt a major reason why Oprah “Ms. New-Age-Self-Help” Winfrey has embraced it so passionately). Once upon a time, movies like “The Grapes of Wrath” and “Raisin In The Sun” –even, in their own way, the Blaxploitation flicks of the ’60s and ’70s– portrayed poor people as basically good folk, mired in circumstances that they might be able to change by working together for social progress. The bad guys, by and large, were the oppressors.
This film gives a vastly different message. The enemy here is poor people themselves (not poverty, but poor PEOPLE, especially poor mothers). Far from suggesting that unity in struggle is the way to achieve freedom, this film shows Precious as needing to free herself, as an individual, by distancing herself as far from “those people” as possible.
Although I’d still recommend the film to discerning viewers, and although I do find it inspirational and uplifting in many ways (and yes, I’m rooting for both Gabby and Mo’Nique at the Oscars!), I find these messages to be extremely troubling.