It is in fashion in Hollywood to fawn over precocious child stars with ample potential. Case in point: Dakota Fanning. Fanning is a chief example of a child star on the verge of attaining legitimate fame. Armed not only with a cuteness that only kittens could produce, Fanning has a mouth any publicist would die for, spouting intelligent responses more instinctively than Ivy League-educated political strategists. But this could all be tarnished-her spotless reputation, her impenetrable aura of innocence-and not by reports of late-night gallivanting or drug experimentation. Instead, Fanning stands to be scrutinized for something far pettier: an artistic decision.

Fanning will soon be featured in her most risqué role yet in Deborah Kampmeier's Hounddog. The film takes place in a nondescript Southern town during the mid to late 1950s of Elvis' heyday (hence the title) and is centered around a young girl's fixation with the rock 'n' roll pioneer, as well as the misfortunes she encounters in her short life. This generic synopsis leaves out the rather startling detail that has fueled the controversy behind Hounddog-Fanning's character is raped in the film.

Rape, especially when someone as young as Fanning is the victim of it, is a devastating notion, but its depiction is necessary in articulating the film's theme of the tragedy of coming to terms with female sexuality.

Fanning's character, Lewellen, is daughter to abusive and neglectful single father Lou, played by David Morse. Lou is designated as a villain early in his entry into the film. That is, of course, until he is struck by lightning during a fateful storm. After this rather unsubtle gesture, Lou undergoes a drastic change-his brutish masculinity is revoked, leaving him a dim-witted and sluggish male figure reminiscent of Of Mice and Men's George. This metaphorical castration is a bit forced, but it is a necessary plot device that allows for a focus on the women of the film.

Lewellen has two mother figures. One is her father's romantic interest, Ellen, played by Robin Wright Penn. The other is her grandmother, played by Piper Laurie. Neither of these women is portrayed as an ideal female role model, as Ellen is an emotionally feeble woman who shirks responsibility and relies on her sexuality to attain her desires, and the grandmother is a God-fearing woman quick to punish rather than pursue details.

In spite of the lack of a stable home life, however, Lewellen is not depicted as a victim. In the very first scene of the film it is she who is the sexual aggressor, instructing her crush Buddy to drop his pants in order to receive a kiss. Buddy is the violated party, visibly ashamed to the point that his reward seems worthless. Lewellen, however, is no young temptress either. She has only unconscious sexuality that she demonstrates through imitations of her idol, gyrating and howling with as much vigor as her little body can allow.

Her performances of Elvis' various hits ("Hound Dog" being the most common in her repertoire) highlight Fanning's various talents, including her ability to sing and mimic Elvis as well as her ability to grasp the sexual implications of Elvis' music. Fanning's character is endowed with a well-developed and problematic multidimensionality, thanks to Fanning's unequivocal talent and Kampmeier's direction and writing. It is not difficult to conceive this film as one created by a woman, but Kampmeier characterizes her film with more than troubling female themes. She depicts the Southern town in which the film takes place with a pace and tone that evokes a strong sense of familiarity-a place of American pastime and contemporary folklore. Kampmeier's Hounddog has elements that could catapult the film to the status of a tragic American epic, but there are moments in the film that seem determined to stunt this potential, most noticeably in the characterization of Charles.

Charles, played by Afemo Omilami, is the stock "wise black man" character. He is insightful, understanding and heroic, but almost nothing is known about him aside from his inclination to music and his unexplained investment in Lewellen's upbringing. It goes without saying that it is unlikely that such a close interaction between Lewellen and Charles could have gone unquestioned in Jim Crow South, but with little mention of race and no dimension provided to Charles at all, the character is infuriatingly reduced to a plot device. It seems negligent to provide a character with so much screen time and importance yet so little depth. Also, his role in the film begs the question: If Kampmeier needed a positive role model, why not make it a woman?

Though frustrating in that it didn't quite realize its potential, Hounddog is still an achievement. It seems strange to consider the initial shock the news of Fanning's rape scene drew, considering how common rape is throughout film and television. Law & Order: Special Victims Unit is centered around sexual violation, and Lifetime produces multiple films yearly about rape. But Hounddog manages to do what these genres do not, as the film does not seek to draw all of its attention, and the audience's, to a young girl's rape. It is not a matter of victim, aggressor and justice; it is an exploration into a tragedy most keenly felt by women.