Precious: Some Impressions

6.5/10

The movie studios are systematically teasing select U.S. markets with this film, based on the novel, "Push" by Sapphire. It's a savvy technique to build anticipation from just a feeling to a frothy lather. And with the film's spate of solid performances, highlighted, in this man's opinion, by Mo'nique's turn as Mary, the the film will be bantied about as possible Oscar fare.

I knew little of this film prior to viewing, and I've not had the opportunity to read the novel on which the movie is based, so that will not factor into this review. But let me begin with the transition from novel to film. At what point in the creative process was it decided that the title of the movie should be different from the original work? Could this perhaps be considered a Hollywoodization of the story? My gut instinct says yes. And this is my most significant complaint about the presentation. It felt, not watered down precisely, but slick and too well-oiled. This story, which follows Carice Precious Jones, is one of desperation, loneliness, moral bankruptcy, abuse, and ultimately, one young woman's "push" to find herself. Some of the supporting characters, especially those seen in Clarice's "Each one Teach one" class, fit very nicely, read too easily, into race/ethnicity/class cubbyholes.

On the positive side though, Gabourey 'Gabby' Sidibe, a newcomer to film as best I can research, shows great range. Her portrayal of Precious begins with a colorless tone of voice, a lethargy flecked with infrequent sparks of hope and life. As the story progresses, and as Precious searches for direction (and begins to see that there is a positive direction) energy seeps into her voice, and the sullen and belligerent facade that she would use to protect herself against the world morphs into a quiet, almost regal confidence.

And don't let me get out of here without praising Mo'nique once again. It's difficult to play a bad woman, even more so to give us the bad woman who used to be nothing more than a mother to a young girl. In some scenes she must bring pure, high-octane vitriol; in others that emotion is laced with jealousy, a jealousy that stems from one of the worst acts a human being can inflict on another, the abuse of a child. Without giving more away, I will say that her scene with the socialer worker/therapist is one spell-binding bit of cinema.

Ok, I know enough to recognize that if I'm using the word spell-binding, it's time to wrap this up and launch it into the ether. Go immerse yourself in the film, see what you take away from it. And maybe, if you're so moved, come back here and tell me what you think.

Shadow Season by Tom Piccirilli

Tom Piccirilli is a scrappy brawler. He'll take on any literary challenge, and occasionally emerges the worse for it. But through each effort, you can count on him inflicting a fuselade of words upon you; a complex mash of stream-of-conscience, snappy dialog, and some riveting imagery.

Finn is working as a teacher at an all-girls private school in upstate New york. This would not be his lot in life, except that he was blinded while working as a police officer. Winter break wraps the school in isolation, and only a paltry few remain to weather the long dark nights. Boredom begins to unravel towards mystery and horror when Finn literally stumbles upon an injured girl while walking through a nearby graveyard. Much of the story incorporates Finn's struggles to cope with and adjust to his disability. Piccirilli uses Finn's blindness almost like a separate character within his tale, this is how large a part it plays in Finn's existence. The author's fumbling moments can be ignored, and to a great degree, disbelief suspended, thanks to his knack for delivering a significant impact with short sharp jabs, compact sentences dense with ideas and emotion.

Piccirilli has made a conscious effort to move away from his writing origins, those being primarily horror/dark fiction. I often greet these evolutions with disappointment; it's rarely good to see a genre lose a quality contributor. However, Piccirilli's style may in fact lend itself more readily to the very dark, noirish atmosphere found in Shadow Season. Keep the good gritty stories coming, Tom.

The Keeper by Sarah Langan

With The Keeper, Sarah Langan has created a work of creeping dread. The novel focuses on a small town in Maine, struggling to keep its place on the map, as the only real source of income, the paper mill, threatens to succumb to a struggling economy. But the turmoil and uncertainty of Bedford's chief livelihood is nothing compared to the terror which flits around the edges of everything that happens in the town. At the center of this horror is Susan Marley, a dark and damaged young woman who lives amongst the townfolks, but very much apart from them.

Sarah Langan's obvious strength is atmosphere, imagery, evoking dismay and a feeling of isolation. There are several key characters who inhabit the story, but though we find ourselves inside their thoughts and emotions, we are more wrapped in the crumbling loneliness of a dying town.

I've found that works of fiction can be great, even if one or more aspects of the story are not developed to their full potential and power. Am I saying that Langan's characters weren't fleshed out or interesting? No, but I came away from this book, and my initial and very visceral reaction of approval was primarily aimed at the town and the evil working inside it.

I am always hungry for the artistry of a quiet horror novel, and Sarah Langan has painted some stunning word pictures with her first book.