Holidays at the movies
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out of her situation.
Daniels takes a varied approach to the material, adopting a gritty, documentary-like aesthetic when we witness Precious during the course of her day. Then he abruptly shifts to an oversaturated, color-laden technique when we are made privy to her fantasies, an elaborate scenario that finds her with a lightskinned boyfriend and the subject of moviestar-like adulation. It is a jarring switch when it occurs and speaks to how desperate the poor girl is to escape her situation.
Sidibe and Mo’Nique bring a raw quality to their performances. It gives the film a degree of sincerity that’s hard to witness when violence erupts between them. As Mary, Mo’Nique spews hate, venting the frustration she feels over her wasted life at the daughter she feels is mocking her. The actress is unrelenting in her attacks and she must be commended for being so willing to flesh out such a monstrous character.
Sidibe takes an opposite approach, often remaining quiet as the character internalizes her pain, maintaining a sense of strength that we mis take at times for apathy. The performance, and the film as well, is a triumph as it and the actress convince us that hope can survive the most heinous bouts of emotional strife. During the film’s final moments, I could not have predicted the feeling of inspiration the film evoked in me during its final moments. Though hard to witness, Precious is a testament to hope that cries out to be witnessed.
Nine doesn’t add up
If A’s were given for effort where movies were concerned, the cast of Rob Marshall’s Nine would be at the top of the class. Led by Daniel Day-Lewis, the bevy of beauties who bring to life the women of his character’s past and present, twirl, pump and grind with such enthusiasm you almost feel the perspiration come off the screen. (Note to Hollywood – You missed the boat by not making Nine-The 3-D Experience!) Too bad all of this effort is put towards what is ultimately a lost cause. Marshall’s film simply doesn’t come together in the end, despite all of the razzle-dazzle.
Day-Lewis is Guido Contini, an Italian filmmaker in the ’60s, struggling to put his next feature together. His last three movies have been flops and his next is set to start filming in a week. Problem is, Contini hasn’t begun to write the script, paralyzed by writer’s block and doubt. Looking for inspiration, he flees to a seaside hotel and finds himself reviewing his life, remembering the various women who have loved, tempted and shaped him.
These reveries are rendered as elaborate musical numbers where Marshall pulls out all of the stops, ramping up each one to an earsplitting crescendo. As with most musicals, it’s a mixed bag with some of the songs being catchy toe-tappers and others, ponderous selections that bring the film to a halt. The movie lacks a true showstopper, a song you end up humming as you walk out or a dance number you recall days later.
With all of the talent on hand, Kate Hudson as an American reporter, and Penelope Cruz as Contini’s mistress, come the closest to knocking it out of the park. Hudson’s “Cinema Italiano,” a stylish tribute to the films of Fellini and his contemporaries, is great fun. Cruz nearly sets the screen afire with “A Call from the Vatican.” Nicole Kidman, as Contini’s muse, doesn’t embarrass herself with “Unusual Way,” while Fergie, as a prostitute from his youth, vamps
