Lee Daniels
Precious

Behind the well-barricaded red carpet, you can see it if you close your eyes, an impatient battalion of cameras is waiting. Telephoto lenses, rifle barrels, all for her, the star, ready to fire: to turn off the night for a few moments with a rapid succession of blinding lights. The cause of such nerve-wracking anticipation is now getting the final touch-up in the car. Then finally, the door of the white limousine opens, and the baroque dress seems almost to have a life of its own, so dazzling it is. Pure jubilation as she treads with proven experience the long red rectangle with a democratic profusion of 32 teeth in every direction for tomorrow's newspaper pages. The “premiere” of her latest success; who even remembers how many evenings like this have passed since the beginning? A sight not seen in years: a truly unique talent. Her parents had chosen well when picking the name among all available ones, finally landing on the letter P. Precious. Precious suits her indeed. Because everything she touches turns into green gold at the box office every time and into golden statuettes in March.

But the Earth, stubborn, continues to turn on that slightly tilted axis. So the hours pass, the night is torn apart by the light, and thus comes the sad moment when the eyes must also open. The baroque dress, while yawning, has once again turned into a worn-out pitch-black leather jacket that would barely fit Dwight Howard's shoulders. Precious rubs her eyes, and it's still Harlem. Late '80s.

16 years old and now carrying such an experience of misfortunes that nothing can scare her anymore. Her life has been, for as long as she can remember, a constant fall. And if she hasn't yet hit the damn bottom with her enormous backside, well, it can't be much further now. That's something like what she thinks as we meet her in the first scene of the film. Her gaze vacant, almost inhuman from the total indifference it exudes, as she silently treads a rundown New York sidewalk with no apparent direction. 120 kg carried by the wind. A child already born and another on the way; her mother's love in a frying pan thrown at her and a TV that, agilely skipping a couple of floors, brushed her face before dying with a copious spread of blood: glass and electrical wires all over the floor. Her father's love… No, I'll let you discover that on your own.

Perhaps the ending of the movie might seem a bit out of tune and disconnected from the rest, sugar accidentally dropped into a savory pie. But what makes "Precious" a work of calibre is that while it tells us about this outsize girl, it offers an acute, raw, and undelicate snapshot of an uncomfortable and ignoble America.

With a successful alternation between illusory teenage dreams and reality, the director brings us into apartments where patched-up sofas have taken the shape of the owner's fat backside and where the TV is always on. It makes us live the modern gold rush: the continuous search for the unemployment check. The way out of this mess is obviously not through education but in the numbers of the lottery to be played daily, with perseverance, because luck doesn’t pass twice. The picture continues with the visits of social services and the continuous, pathetic show to win them over. A couple of strokes for the healthcare and non-existent public education and as a frame the scent of a healthy and balanced diet in the pervasive fragrance of fried chicken at 9 in the morning and tasty hairy pig's trotters in the evening.

The work is particularly well rendered not only by the actors, among whom I could mention the famous names of Mariah Carey (no, she doesn't have her boobs out) and Lenny Kravitz (no, he doesn't sing), but also by the foul language and the sharp sarcasm that marry with the setting as well as pancetta, cream, and eggs with steaming spaghetti and parmesan can.

"Precious" in the sense of 2 pictures from the same camera. In the first you use the zoom, while the second is an overview from above. These images overlap for the duration of the film, and the result is a ferocious and profound critique decidedly better than a vitriolic Moore documentary. Many images and scenes are exportable worldwide, for a fine work with a sweet, sticky flavor. Like powdered sugar on a pandoro? Clever boy, you got it: just like that, or like blood. Because the wounds that "Precious" opens, with these rusty and dirty slashes, leave a mark.

At Christmas, cinemas are often crowded, but here you’ll find a nice wide spot.