It's grim, but you'll still feel the pull of 'Precious'

That she's known as "Precious" is just another cruelty in the life of Claireece Jones (Gabourey Sidibe) in 1987 Harlem: This ominously quiet 16-year-old is cherished by no one. At home, she's the subject of sickening abuse from her vicious mother (Mo'Nique) and monstrous father (who rapes her repeatedly but is otherwise absent; she's pregnant with his second child, the first of which has Down syndrome). At school, because she says little and doesn't make trouble, she's ignored; no one seems to have noticed that, in ninth-grade, she can't read or write.

Lee Daniels' wrenching film "Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' By Sapphire," adapted by Geoffrey Fletcher, explores the darkest of territory, shining a harsh light on a miserably unhappy life. It is not always subtle: The good characters are saintly, the villains unredeemable, and the scenes of violence — sexual and otherwise — overt and devastating. (Perhaps Daniels needed to show Precious' abuse this way, and that to do otherwise would be prettifying something unspeakable. But you wonder, after unclenching your fingers from the armrests after some early scenes, whether artful suggestion might have been just as powerful as explicitness.)

So no, "Precious" is not an easy sit, and isn't meant to be. But it's a film of remarkable strength and poignancy, filled with vivid performances that stay with you long after you've left the theater. Mo'Nique wallows in her character's sordid amorality, making her a creature both utterly horrendous and ever-believable. A late monologue, in which the self-absorbed Mary vainly tries to offer excuses for her behavior, only makes her more terrifying; there's no happy transformation for this monster. An unrecognizable Mariah Carey is tartly wise as a social worker trying to reconcile mother and daughter; Paula Patton finds gentle life in her angelic character, an alternative-school teacher who tries to help Precious. "Write!" she urges her, as if giving the girl a weapon.

And Sidibe, a newcomer to films, slowly and beautifully unveils Precious' fiercely loving heart, letting us almost believe the movie's unexpectedly uplifting ending. Early on, she speaks in whispers, shrinking inside her body; this girl, knowing nothing of joy, just wants to be left alone in her private fantasy life. (These imaginative sequences are as irresistible as they are heartbreaking: a beaming Precious as a star, a singer, a model, a woman happy in love. The fantasies end quickly; they can't last.) But the arrival of her child and the attention of her teacher open bright doors in her dark life. Sidibe's performance grows more animated, in tandem with Precious' blossoming literacy; by the film's end, she believes in hope — and we, miraculously, believe it with her.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com