Every year or so Black people get excited about a movie. I mean, one of our movies. You know the American Gangsters, Training Days, some Tyler Ferry bullshit. Sometimes I get excited too. I wanna see a movie that is going to tell "our story" only the way we can tell it. I wanna see a movie that is going to make me look at myself. I wanna a movie on bootleg, that I ALSO saw in the theater. With all that said, when I saw the trailer for Precious early last summer, I was very excited. It is no secret that I am not a poor, overweight, uneducated, black girl, but coming from Mississippi and currently living in Los Angeles, I have know my fair share. A particular one comes to mind that I met at the 7-11 on Buckingham and MLK, but that is another story.
So I went to see this movie with high expectations, but not high. Phone on vibrate and popcorn in lap, the bullshit unrolled. The movie is narrated by the main character, Clariece, the big black girl they wouldn't put on the posters.(hmmm...) The girl has the diction of a muffler. For some reason, she speaks a little clearer in the narration then she does the film, but consistency is for suckas anyway. The movie is in present tense, so toss that argument, plus I get ebonics (if my writing isn't evidence) and I get what happens when you only have had short forms of communication with 5 people your whole life...but shit I came to watch a movie dawg, thats not deep, its annoying. Homegirl gets raped and impregnated by her dad, which I know was the selling point for ole' mammy Oprah to endorse the film...she loves some po' niggas get abused shit. This is all mixed with Clariece having constant daydreams. Daydreams of being Marylyn Monroe, dreams of being her social worker's real life (Mariah, ya on fire..), daydreams of her mother abusing her in 17nth century spanish. At this point, I knew I should have been high, so I could partake in the the fantasies. The movie is based on a true life book, so I'm not bangin on Sapphire, because we all know that in our everyday lives if we met a young illiterate black girl named Platinum or Icegrill or Sapphire, we would all read her dishoveled memoirs. Like I said, I want a movie that makes us look at ourselves. We(I) could use it.
Clariece's life which is dominated by her mother's conquest for hot greens with her pigs feet, takes a presumed upturn when she meets a light-skind'ded teacher. So much that Clariece mounts up the energy to run down city blocks eating fried chicken, hoping to have a well-fed day at school but she just vomits it up. By her mother's guidance she finally "takes her ass down to the Welfare" and tells stories of vampires and mongoloids. And this is the compelling shit that everyone at Cannes is clapping for. J'amour noir.
To be honest, I hadn't eaten before I came to the film and after Monique asked her daughter to "finish mamma up" after masterbation and the $100,000 Pyrmaid, I lost my appetite. I wasn't even depressed like I thought I would feel. I was more embarrassed at the fact that here we are in 2009, and even in 1987 Lenny Kravitz still comes off gay. This the year Prince put out, "If I was your girlfriend". And Lenny is a nurse eating a fruit cup. I make none of this up. I can't write that well.
So be mad, be mad if you loved the movie and you love black hollywood making sure the lighting is just right on daddy's reaching for a handful of raping vaseline, and I am just a hater. I mean I did walk out of the movie, so don't worry....that whole -- if you don't like it, don't look at---rule doesn't always need a remote control. I'm just not that guy that wants to bet his whole Russell Simmons debit card on every movie Jet magazine calls "keeping it real". I like to keep it respectable... where I'm from our drugdealers don't push down fat girls.
The movie may go for Best Picture or Monique may win an oscar for reciting the sub-conscious of a racist. Those awards will not be prompted by box-office sales. So instead of giving the film your hard earned $10, take the person in your life who is on welfare out to eat. I can recommend some organic soul food spots with hot greens, so it won't be any , "juh betta phut dat skilly down, Clereece!". Plus when it comes out on DVD it is supposed to come with commentary by Aunt Jemima and behind-the-scenes recipes.
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