Redemptive stories of inner-city youths trying to overcome their dire circumstances have surely become trite and well-worn by now, and in many ways, Lee Daniels' Precious is a very familiar story. However, solid writing and exceptional performances can go a long way, and here they no doubt elevate a film that has had critics and awards folk eating out of their hands for some time, causing it to recently earn six Oscar nominations.

The story takes place in Harlem in 1987; the titular protagonist, Precious, (Gabourey Sidibe), is an overweight, black 16-year old girl who lives with her abusive mother, Mary (Mo'Nique). Precious has previously been raped by her father, resulting in her giving birth to a mentally deficient child, and she also has another child on the way. Upon hearing of her pregnancy, her principal suspends her from school, but arranges for her to attend an "alternative school", where she can attempt to make a better life for herself under the tutelage of the absurdly-monikered Miss. Blu Rain (Paula Patton).

Indeed, in many ways, this is the same story we've seen dozens of times before (with Patton’s character being the most rudimentary element), but it visits dark places that similar dramas would never dare to. Daniels paints an impressively nuanced portrait that examines several sociological issues, such as the ubiquitous influence of the media, which appears to extend to even those who can barely afford a TV (with Precious claiming to want a “nice light-skinned boyfriend”). However, nothing in this film is as horrifying as its depiction of Precious's rape; a greasy, murkily shot moment, although Daniels’ decision to literally break through the ceiling and cut to Precious’s dreams mid-rape is rather cheesy. Nevertheless, this incident serves well as a reference point for whenever Precious experiences great anguish, at one point cutting back to the rape to hear her father utter “You’re better than your mother”.

Equally horrifying is Precious’s mother, who better resembles a sexual rival to her daughter than any sort of blood relation. Ranty and sweary, Mary resents her daughter for “stealing” her boyfriend away, crassly declaring, “I should’ve aborted your motherfucking ass.” Mo'Nique's recent Golden Globe win was doubtless deserved, for her scene-stealing portrayal of this thoroughly dislikeable character is monstrous while at the same time psychologically complex.

Also impressive is Sidibe who, in her debut, may well become the year's Cinderella story at the Oscars. She fights against some of the film’s cornier elements – like people talking to her out of a scrapbook – and gets at the gravity of the situation, referring to herself as “ugly black grease”, and even wishing that she were dead. Particularly harrowing is one excellent shot where Precious stands in the mirror, only to envision a thin, white girl as her reflection. It is all the more credit to her performance that Precious is a personable and sympathetic character, given the tendency for people to mark the narrative along racial lines (not exactly aided by a silly scene where Precious steals a bucket of fried chicken), yet this is a story more concerned with class than race, allowing it to assume a greater universality.

Though intermittently infused with hope, the film relies on an ever-increasing cacophony of shocking scenes, throwing more and more in the way of our protagonist, which no doubt works well as a showcase for the powerhouse performances. Sidibe is particularly great in the penultimate scenes, but this is merely a precursor to the climactic scene where Mary is confronted, with Mo’Nique nailing a horrifying monologue that’ll surely be her Oscar clip.

Precious fares well not to provide any easy answers, ending on a melancholic, mildly hopeful note, with the characters still struggling in flux. The film is not without fault, though; the story is overly familiar, and Daniels' oddly Oscar-nominated direction is undeniably clunky (the constant cutaways to Precious's dreams are silly and overdo the point, and some visual allegory is very heavy-handed), but the film has enough edge to make it invigorating. It is occasionally over-the-top – when Mary drops a TV from a stairwell, intending to hit her daughter – and questions remain, chiefly why nobody except a male nurse (played by a virtually unrecognisable Lenny Kravitz) has talked to Precious about her weight. Through and through, though, this is a film dominated by its actors (extending to the minor players who make up Precious’s classmates), and although it is far from Best Picture calibre, it's the sort of gritty underdog story that the Academy loves.