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.

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.

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.

http://www.counterpunch.org/reed12042009.html