Unlike the album, or its title track, Purple Rain the film was a highly unlikely critical
and commercial hit.
Prince, with his band The Revolution, was on the cusp of fully-fledged pop stardom:
but a movie star?
Few musicians had made that transition, and certainly not a black artist who played funked-up
rock with his own sexualised, gender-fluid, multi-cultural twist.
Hindsight is 20/20 but in retrospect the film’s success is in playing to Prince’s strengths.
The story of The Kid, his Minneapolis home turf, troubled home life, and professional
and romantic torments, played on autobiographical parallels to their star.
As the tagline exaggerated, “before he created the music, he lived every bit of it.”
More than anything, it showcased Prince’s true genius: electrifying live performances
of classic songs.
Offstage, though, how does he fare as an actor?
Singers onscreen are a mixed bag, often depending on how much they want to move away from their
musical roots.
Here, Prince is… not bad, actually.
The personal material brings out the best in him.
But there’s no escaping the fact that he – and the film – are at their best when
he’s doing what he does best.
For many, it’s still his defining iconic moment.
All of which makes his movie follow-up, Under the Cherry Moon, such a puzzle.
A black and white champagne cocktail of a fantasy set on the French Riviera, he’s
a long way from home.
Taking over as director, Prince’s story of a gigolo’s redemption looks great, thanks
to Martin Scorsese’s regular DoP Michael Ballhaus. It has its tongue-in-cheek charms,
and showcases his sparky humour.
But there’s too little of this:
The film’s excellent accompanying album, ‘Parade’, is often downplayed, in favour
of a clowning, cloying morality tale that didn’t bring in the crowds.
Now regularly helming his music videos, 1990’s Graffiti Bridge feature saw Prince write and
direct a Purple Rain sequel of sorts, the star again playing The Kid, still seeking
musical and romantic salvation.
There’s a sincere spirituality here and Prince’s direction is more confident.
But, whereas Purple Rain’s numbers feel they’re shot like, and at, a rock concert;
Graffiti Bridge’s wildly uneven bunch of songs play like music videos.
The obvious soundstage environment too, takes away any sense of raw authenticity.
And more troublesome elements, like the disdainful treatment of women, sadly haven’t disappeared.
There’s a reason you don’t meet many Prince fans whose favourite film, or album,
is Graffiti Bridge.
In fact, arguably the best overall Prince movie is the superb concert film he directed,
Sign o’ the Times, with its standout filmmaking, stagecraft and songs.
Perhaps there’s a reason Prince resisted fictional characters after 1990 – that both
he, and the audience, realised there was no persona as fascinating, mercurial, playful
and complex as his own.
Rare screen appearances instead became fun opportunities to send up himself and any public
pre-conceptions.
Despite our social media-dominated lives, no performer has any obligation to exist on
camera, for themselves, or anyone else.
If you had the good fortune to see Prince perform his music live, you were sure of one
thing:
truly great artists create their own screens within us.