I'd been intrigued by director Lee Daniels' response to a journalist who asked if the film cast an overly harsh light on inner-city life. "I always look for that gray area. Even the most evil person was somebody's baby at one time. And that's where life is lived. I've never been that comfortable with black and white." I clipped this quote from his New York Times interview and taped his words on the wall over my computer.

Mia further piqued my interest when she wrote of Daniels' ability to use "the language of stereotypes to speak to its audiences in an extraordinarily deep and fresh voice." I agree. I also thought that actress Gabourey Sidibe's nuanced portrayal of the title character transcended stereotypes. She's alternately defiant, smart, violent, funny and maternal. Through musical dream sequences in which the quaffed Precious sings, dances, and finds happily-ever-after with her math teacher in Westchester County, Daniels takes us to the emotional escape hatch Precious uses while she's being abused. We can't help but root for this woman who we've watched steal fried chicken and viciously clock the classmates who rile her.

Precious is the only character we see glammed out. Mariah Carey (who plays Precious' s social worker) is frumpy, tired, and entirely sequin-less, and a closeup of the comedienne Mo'Nique (who plays Precious's abusive mother) highlights the ripe blemishes on her angry face before she throws her infant grandson on the floor.

Daniels was also not afraid to shine a light on the uglier parts of his inner-being in making this film. He told the New York Times, "What I learned from doing the film is that even though I'm black, I'm prejudiced. I'm prejudiced against people who are darker than me . . . Making this movie changed my heart. I'll never look at a fat girl walking down the street the same way again."

The scene that cracked open my heart and generated one of the most audible waves of sniffles took place in Precious' classroom. In response to a writing assignment, she puts down these two words in her journal: "Why me?" When her devoted teacher questions her about her entry, Precious erupts into tears for the first time in the film and blurts out that her HIV-positive father had impregnated and infected her. The teacher punctuates Precious's outburst with a one-word command. "Write," she tells Precious, "Write."

The scene reminded me of another quote I've posted over my computer, this one from Johns Hopkins writing professor Bill Loizeaux (quoting his professor, Frederick Busch): "You try to make something from catastrophe and loss, a monument of words. You memorialize your subject, and in the process you memorialize the act of writing and understanding. Then if you're good enough, and lucky, you might stamp on the world a small thing that can remind you and others of the delicate fact of existence, and why we hold it so dearly."

Daniels' film (based on the novel "Push," by Sapphire) has stamped on the world a large thing. In presenting this exploration of the gray, he offers hope that his viewers will follow suit. This is a leap of faith that's anything but ugly.