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| Courtesy of Warner Bros. |
The
world is mourning the loss of a music legend. That word gets thrown around a
lot when someone famous dies, whether it’s true or not. It’s human nature to
exaggerate when we get sentimental. However, calling Prince – who died last
Thursday at age 57 – a legend almost feels like an understatement.
Although
I wouldn’t consider myself a die-hard fan, I still respected him as an artist
and grew up loving classic songs like “Little Red Corvette,” “1999,” “Raspberry
Beret” and “Kiss.” Children of the 1980s had them memorized whether we realized
it or not. The words just existed in our brains – like magic – through cultural
osmosis.
But,
for whatever reason, I never saw Purple Rain, the 1984 musical that cemented
Prince’s superstar status and featured arguably the greatest songs of his
career. It’s unfortunate that it took his death for me to finally give the
movie a shot, as it crystallizes everything fans loved about his music and
iconic image. It was a genuine lightning bolt moment for me – the epitome of “you
don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
The storyline of Purple Rain is fairly standard as far as musicals go. In fact, the flimsy
narrative is the height of ’80s cheese. What makes the film special are
Prince’s undeniable stage presence, the classic visual iconography – like that
legendary purple suit – and the amazing music.
Man, that music. “Let’s
Go Crazy.” “When Doves Cry.” “I Would Die 4 U.” The titular “Purple Rain.” Most
artists would commit murder for just one song of that caliber. Prince packs
them all into a single movie. It’s mind-blowing.
The influence of MTV,
which debuted three years before the movie hit theaters, is abundantly clear in
director Albert Magnoli’s rapid-fire editing (with an assist from Ken Robinson)
and the way he and cinematographer Donald E. Thorin stage the live performances
like music videos. It’s a good thing it looks so terrific, because it distracts
from the fact that there’s not much in the story department.
Prince plays The Kid, a rising star in the Minneapolis music scene. He spends his days avoiding his abusive father (Clarence Williams III) and evenings performing at the First Avenue nightclub, where he and fellow musician Morris (Morris Day) compete for dominance. Their rivalry escalates to emotionally dangerous levels with the appearance of beautiful young singer Apollonia (Apollonia Kotero). That’s the entire 111-minute movie in a nutshell.
But it’s not the plot
the matters in Purple Rain, it’s the individual moments. Like the opening
montage set to “Let’s Go Crazy,” immediately establishing the main characters,
the conflicts, the stakes and the tone. Or the comedic power of Morris Day and
the Time performing “Jungle Love” (the song’s so memorable that I still can’t
listen to “Uptown Funk,” Bruno Mars’ and Mark Ronson’s homage, without singing “oh-wee-oh-wee-oh”
during the chorus). Or The Kid telling Apollonia she must purify herself in the
waters of Lake Minnetonka.
Joke about the movie’s
cheesiness all you want (and there are plenty of examples to choose from, especially
the ridiculous montage set to “When Doves Cry”). But that laughter stops when
Prince finally performs the title song. It’s an absolutely incredible
performance, one that produces goosebumps and dropped jaws.
Not only is “Purple
Rain” one of the greatest songs of the ’80s, the scene itself is inspired on a
narrative level. I love that The Kid's greatest musical moment is engineered by
two women in his band, The Revolution, who he formerly dismissed. This nod to Prince’s
respect for women particularly welcome after the brutal treatment of female
characters earlier in the film.
Fans like to look back
on the film through a hazy filter of nostalgia, but I was shocked by the story’s
casual misogyny. In one scene, Morris’ bodyguard throws one of his boss’ scorned
lovers into a dumpster for comedic effect. In another, Apollonia informs The Kid
she’s going to play in a rival band, and he responds by slapping her so hard
she flies across the room. I don’t know how audiences responded to those scenes
three decades ago, but in 2016 they stop the movie in its tracks.
These scenes are further
evidence that Purple Rain doesn’t work as a traditional narrative. As a concert
film, however, it’s pure genius. That only makes me sadder about Prince’s death.
I hate that I didn’t
fully appreciate him until he was gone. And I’m devastated that my belated,
newfound admiration of his incredible talent means that I didn’t get to see him
at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta for his final concerts earlier this month. What an
amazing memory those fans have to cherish.
Purple
Rain is rated R. It contains strong language, sexuality and nudity. (Note:
The film returns to several theaters in the area this weekend, so take
advantage of a rare opportunity to see it on the big screen.)
Grade:
B
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