By Paula Woods

This must the year for abused black children in Hollywood movies. First there was Precious, the Lee Daniels-directed megahit, in which a 16-year old Harlem girl rises above illiteracy and multiple forms of parental abuse to reclaim her children and her future. Now there is The Blind Side, in which a 16-year old Memphis boy rises above parental neglect and a low grade point average to discover his innate athleticism and claim his future as a football star for Ole Miss and the Baltimore Ravens.

The big difference (other than gender and geography) is that The Blind Side is based on the true story of West Memphis teen Michael Oher, one of eleven children born to a crack-addicted mother who was taken in by well-to-do East Memphis whites Sean and Leign Anne Tuohy and their family. The other big difference is the presence of Sandra Bullock as Leigh Anne, a no-nonsense interior decorator and alpha mom who sees the homeless 16-year old, enrolled in the same Christian private school as her children, walking along a road in a T-shirt and shorts one cold night before Thanksgiving and offers him shelter.

That offer of shelter turns into a permanent home for young Michael, a gentle, virtually mute giant of a kid, and simplistic lessons in race relations for Leigh Anne, who faces down her momentary misgivings, her racist girlfriends and a child welfare system that had lost track of, and interest in, Michael years before. Bullock is a force of nature in her thick makeup, tight-fitting clothes and stilettos, using the snap and sass on display in this summer’s romantic comedy The Proposal to embody conservative Republican Touhy as she steamrolls over any opposition to her plans to get Michael’s grades on track, his football skills in order, and college options lined up.

But Bullock wouldn’t be as effective in her role were it not for the balance provided by country singer Tim McGraw as her amiable and loving husband or, more importantly, newcomer Quenton Aaron as young Michael Oher. Aaron imbues Michael with a dignity and grace under extreme pressure that makes him a sympathetic character long before he encounters the Tuohys. Taking his cues from Michael Lewis’ bestselling book examining the evolution of football in which Oher is profiled, the 6’10”, 25-year old wears the suffering brought on by Oher’s haphazard life like a weight on his broad shoulders. Good fortune is followed by multiple reversals, not the least of which is learning his estranged father jumped (or was pushed) from a highway overpass. By the time he encounters the Tuohys, Michael’s dire circumstances makes viewers wish someone would help this child.

These troubles notwithstanding, Director John Lee Hancock—whose previous films include The Rookie, another sports-themed hit—doesn’t overplay his hand in stacking the deck against Michael, or making the Tuohys more overtly Christian than their actions proclaim. He even fairly raises the real-life accusations leveled against the Tuohys that they sheltered and nurtured Michael’s football skills so he would play for Ole Miss, their alma mater. My only quibble with Hancock ’s directions is that these and other details of Leigh Anne’s efforts or the Tuohys’ charity toward Michael leaves little opportunity for viewers to see how the object of their attention evolved to become the successful man we now know him to be. Aaron’s performance and interactions with teammates, the Tuohy family or his old homies from the ’hood hint at it, as do real-life scenes depicting Oher’s NFL draft, but the film makes Michael Oher seem more one-dimensional than one suspects he is.

The fact that most of the people who abuse and neglect Michael Oher are black while the ones who seem to be helping him white (regardless of their possible ulterior motives) are makes The Blind Side a guilt-free, feel good film for whites from both sides of the sociopolitical aisle. And while it has grossed over $100 million in domestic sales in two weeks, The Blind Side’s underlying message about Christian charity and reaching out to those less fortunate is making the film’s receipts especially strong in smaller cities like Sacramento, CA, Birmingham, AL and Nashville, TN.

While Precious has relied on the major media mojo of Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry to boost interest in its downbeat urban-centered story, The Blind Side presents a more ostensibly upbeat tale that ends in NFL fame and a red-carpet life for Oher the likes of which the fictional Precious can only dream. But while The Blind Side is certainly less emotionally draining to watch than Precious and is graced with a more seasoned director, both films turn a blind eye to the unspoken question hovering just out of camera range: Why are children like Precious Jones or Michael Oher systematically neglected in our society and what remedies beyond individual grit and determination or rich white benefactors are necessary to make a difference?

Paula L. Woods’ reviews of books and film have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, The Washington Post and other publications. She is the author of eight books, including I, Too, Sing America: The African-American Book of Days, and four Charlotte Justice crime novels, which include Inner City Blues and Strange Bedfellows.