Purple

Purple Noon

Purple Rain

Greetings and good day my good people, I hope you’re keeping cool from the heat and cool-headed from the nonstop influx of insane news developments—not even pertaining to the insane election cycle. The state of the world is too damn unpredictable, the temperature is too damn high, and Mercury is in retrograde until the end of August so I, for one, am feeling a bit kooky. So let’s take a deep breath and refresh with a cinematic cleanse of a colorful variety, as we discuss the color purple in film. I am not referring specifically to Alice Walker’s groundbreaking novel and subsequent musical and film(s) The Color Purple, which I’ve already seen, but broadly of the color purple in titles and its usage in film. Out of all of the colors that I’ve painted with on this blog, Red, Blue, Green, and most recently Pink, Purple might just be the wildest, weirdest, and most mysterious color thus far. Color psychology is a bit like astrology—staunchly based on vibes yet strangely true. The color psychology of Purple is rooted in wisdom, creativity, royalty, power, ambition, and luxury. But it can also represent magic, mystery, peace, pride, independence, and wealth. Purple is perhaps the color most dependent upon culture and class, since shades of purple were once so rare that only the wealthiest of rulers had access to it. Around 1200 B.C.E. the city of Tyre began producing purple dye by crushing the shells of a small sea snail, with the resulting color becoming known as “Tyrian purple”. This is referenced in Homer's "Iliad" and Virgil's "Aeneid”, and rulers like Alexander the Great and the kings of Egypt wore clothing colored with this famous hue. But this color was not just en vogue in Ancient times, as it was the color of choice for the “Purple Robe of Estate” worn by Queen Elizabeth II on her way back to Buckingham Palace following her coronation in 1953. Purple rarely occurs organically in nature, and because of its royal ties it has been deemed a somewhat polarizing color, but it was named 2022's Color of the Year, as selected by the Pantone Color Institute. I love purple, just as much as I love pink, these days. I once resented being associated with purple, simply because as a child I loved a book called Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse (still do, I suppose), but I’ve really come around to it lately. I really love all of the varieties of purple: amethyst, lavender, lilac, mulberry, orchid, plum, puce, pomegranate, violet, wine, etc. Blue and red are already so powerful, it only makes sense that their child would be just as dynamic. Purple is always an important part of society and pop culture, with the courageous symbolism of the Purple Heart, and the prevalence of a certain one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people-eater. I can go way too in-depth about niche films and subgenres of subgenres: you thought I wouldn’t go deep with purple? Well, tonight’s two films may not be the deepest, and they may not convey the full range of purple’s hue wheel, but they both certainly wanted to leave respectively memorable purple stamps on the zeitgeist. And no, I did not opt to watch the current purple movie allegedly playing in theaters where proud anti-vaxxer Zachary Levi plays a live action, grown adult version of Harold of Harold and the Purple Crayon for some reason. Instead, I began with a film that caught my eye mostly because of it’s strikingly-attractive male lead—the inspo for many double features—a French film from 1960 called Purple Noon. Directed by René Clément and starring dreamboat Alain Delon in a French-Italian production, Purple Noon (or Plein Soleil) begins in an idyllic Italian city, where we are introduced to the rich and entitled Philippe (Maurice Ronet) and his friend, Tom Ripley. At this point, thirty seconds into the film, a theoretical record scratched in my head and I thought, “‘Tom Ripley’?? Now wait a minute…” and realized that this was the same character that Matt Damon played in The Talented Mr. Ripley, which I watched 3 weeks ago. Then a character named Freddy Miles enters the scene and I further realized that not only is this a story that I already knew, but this version of this story is already taking some wild creative liberties. Purple Noon drops us about halfway into the story, when Tom has been staying with his fake friend Dickie for some time now, and he seems to be growing weary of Tom. It was a strange choice to this critic, to begin at this very random point in the story, and to change Dickie’s name to Philippe, and to make these distinctly American characters all French on top of that, but now I feel even more compelled to read Patricia Highsmith’s novel—just to see how many changes were made. It’s just wild to me that five years after the novel came out, there was already this French film adaptation, and our pop cultural obsession with the iconic fictional grifter Tom Ripley prevails (there was even just a Netflix series starring Hot Priest as Ripley.), but I digress. Purple Noon basically follows the same plot as the 1999 film, but with far less context given or time taken to fully flesh out its characters. This version of Tom Ripley is a bit messier, a bit cockier, and is showing off his forgery skills to Philippe and Freddy—a clear look of disdain growing on Freddy’s face. Though charmed by Tom’s wily ways, Philippe admits to Freddy that he thinks Tom is a “loser” and he is merely entertained by how much of an optimistic doormat he is. Philippe is also far crueler than Jude Law’s Dickie, as we witness Philippe buying a cane off of a blind man just to show how rich and desperate for a thrill he is. Philippe and Tom have an odd chemistry, where Tom tries to impress Philippe and Philippe only sometimes cares, but clearly relies on the assistance and approval of an underling. The two share a make-out sesh with a random woman in the back of a horse-drawn carriage, where Tom pockets the jewelry she sheds and when she briefly exits, Philippe tells the driver to leave her behind. These disgusting brothers engage in a bit of debauchery before heading back to the home of Philippe and his fiancé, Marge (Marie Laforêt). Tom is more than happy to awkwardly join this couple on their never-ending Italian vacay, but their moods begin to sour when Tom does some creepy things, like trying on Philippe’s clothes, impersonating Philippe in a mirror and kissing his reflection. Luckily for Tom, Philippe is just as weird and creepy, so Marge begins to sour on her fiancé, as well, particularly because of his abuse of Tom. It’s in this couple’s steady rift that Tom is able to easily insert himself as the rational, level-headed, and humble one, making this complete stranger seem trustworthy to both parties. Things only become more tense between this throuple when they set sail on a boat, Marge becomes enraged, and leaves these two men alone. I shan’t reveal what happens next, but if you’ve seen or read The Talented Mr. Ripley, you know just how gay and violent things become (and for that we thank you.) The flirtation and eventual bitterness that develops between these characters seems turned up to eleven here, and yet the experience as a whole felt less satisfying. Where this adaptation mostly succeeds is with the sexiness of its particular Tom Ripley, and I wish I were exaggerating, but Alain Delon was so hot and it was truly the best part of this movie. Though soaked in a sultry, summertime 1950/60s Italian aura of endless, hedonistic possibilities, Purple Noon hardly scratched the surface of the brilliance of the 1999 film—which fleshes out the mysteries of this story a bit more successfully. Again, I cannot stress enough how devastatingly handsome Alain Delon is—a man who married Romy Schneider (often your favorite actress’ favorite actress) and had a cigarette brand named after him. His presence alone makes this film worth watching, but it makes for a better Pinterest board than story. Aesthetically, Purple Noon was a 10/10 with its serene oceanic setting, brilliant Italian architecture and fashion, and its gorgeous cast. I just wish that I’d watched this before I watched the 1999 film, because that adaptation feels like a more in-depth recreation of the novel, and Purple Noon feels more like a companion piece. But then again, I probably would’ve been somewhat confused beginning with this film, because it doesn’t do the best job of sussing out its complex plot. Another film that struggled to suss out its not at all complex plot was tonight’s next film, Albert Magnoli’s 1984 project Purple Rain. This film just celebrated its 40th anniversary last week, and I had to pay my respects, not just as a fan of Prince, but because it may very well be the reason that I am alive. My whole life, long before I ever had any interest in watching this movie, I was told that my mom and dad’s very first date was to go see Purple Rain at the theater, and I’ve been pretty obsessed with this fact ever since. Neither my mom nor my dad have any particular memories of this date, other than my mom’s hesitation to go out with a guy two years younger than her, but I just think its special, and kind of funny. It could’ve been any kind of date, but these future-parents-of-an-obnoxious-cinephile chose to go to the movies, despite any hesitations or lack of interest in even seeing this movie, and I’ve always loved that. It’s given me a greater appreciation for Prince (may he rest in peace and sexiness), and a greater sense of nostalgia for a time in which I never experienced, but when many of my favorite films take place. After last week’s exploration of a different artist’s self-indulgent multi-mixed-media project, I wanted to understand how a musical film like this gets made. In Purple Rain’s case, it was specifically dreamed up by Prince after the success of his album 1999. He confronted his then-manager Robert Cavallo and told him he would not renew his contract with him unless he got to star in a studio film. Every studio they had met with rejected the premise of a musician-led film, leading Cavallo to produce the film himself. David Geffen and Richard Pryor both passed on this film, and at one point it was almost directed by Fame screenwriter William Blinn, but he wanted John Travolta for the lead, so it ended there. (Blinn’s version of this script, titled “Dreams”, was allegedly much, much darker.) Prince kept tweaking the script himself, and imagined different women to play the lead female role: first was Vanity (the leader of the girl group Vanity 6), then Jennifer Beals, then Gina Gershon, but instead a complete unknown named Apollonia Kotero was cast. Based loosely on Prince’s own life and filmed in his hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota, Purple Rain stars Prince as The Kid—a talented singer and musician who’s band, The Revolution, often plays at a club called First Avenue. Prince is reliably electric on stage as he plays his hit “Let’s Go Crazy”, alongside actual bandmates Lisa Coleman and Wendy Melvoin, and we’re shown just how hyped up the crowd is to hear him play. We’re also shown Morris Day (played by Morris Day) in a sharp and brightly-colored suit, arriving on the scene with his rival band, The Time. (Allegedly, Prince and Morris had actual beef in real life so Prince refused to say anything to him at all.) Then we’re shown the beautiful and leather-clad Apollonia, who seems to be escaping from the car of an evil-looking white man. Apollonia finds her way to First Avenue, where she tries to get a meeting with the club manager, saying to a random waitress, “I’m from outta town. I gotta see the manager. I’m a pretty good singer and dancer.” (Pretty much verbatim.) The waitress she says this to happens to be the right person to speak to, because Apollonia is soon introduced to the respective leads of the main bands of this club, Morris and Prince. It’s a bit hilarious watching this now, and I would love to know if it was just as hilarious back then, when Morris turns to Prince and says “stick around and see how it’s done” before performing the corniest, silliest song ever. Though short and extravagantly-dressed, Prince is a formidable talent and love interest for Apollonia, who desperately wants her chance in the spotlight so she can shine as bright as The Kid. Morris and The Kid both vie for the chance to mould this promising protege, and they’re both aggressive in their own ways. Morris seems to view Apollonia merely as a sexual object, and focuses solely on how to aesthetically market her via a flashy, heavily-eroticized girl group. The Kid, while more interested in her talents, is also quite aggressive. We learn early on that The Kid comes from a home of abuse, where he’s forced to witness his father (Clarence Williams III, the only real actor in this film) beat his mother, because apparently being a local rockstar didn’t pay well enough for this twenty-six year old to have his own place. Rather shockingly and unfortunately, The Kid emulates his father’s behavior on Apollonia and hits her, even after she buys him the sleek white guitar he’d been lusting after. The Kid and Apollonia fight and make up and fight and make up and before they even know each other he makes her jump into the frigid waters of Lake Minnetonka (which she actually did, four times, causing her to suffer from hypothermia, resulting in her finishing her scenes in Los Angeles.) And as much surprising sex appeal as Prince always embodied, he was far from attractive to this critic in Purple Rain, because he plays the most abusive, petulant, divalicious version of himself—which, as a Gemini, probably wasn’t hard for him convey. The writing is terrible, of course, but the lack of chemistry between any of the characters revealed this fact even further. Prince seems straight-up annoyed by everyone in this film: his family, his love interest, his rival, even his own bandmates, which not only made him less sympathetic, but less interesting, as a character. Apparently, a few days before the premiere, Prince had a nightmare that Siskel and Ebert despised the film, with Ebert ripping the film apart. He said, "I dreamed those two guys on the TV were reviewing the movie and that fat guy was tearing me up!" Which is ironic, because Siskel and Ebert both loved the film in their reviews. I just would love to know, as highly critical, highly professional film connoisseurs, did they, too, laugh at all of the dialogue that was not intended to be humorous? Because this critic sure did. Prince is an iconic, legendary diva, and I already knew this, but he somehow exceeded the levels of cuntiness that I’d assumed he’d be exhibiting. When he’s just straight up mean to Apollonia, I felt sad. But when an exchange like this happens, one where Apollonia says, “What do you dream about? Will you help me?” and he simply replies, “Nope.” I felt entertained as hell. Similarly, when Morris Day is competing to be the second cuntiest queen of all and says to Apollonia, “Your lips would make a lollipop jealous” to which she responds, “Thanks, babe” I laughed out loud when Morris then says, and I’m not joking, “Yas.” I’m aware that the script of Purple Rain is not of the caliber of scripts that deserve to be analyzed and critiqued, but there was just so much textual absurdity at play here that I have no choice but to acknowledge it. Because, yes, this is far more of an extended music video for “When Doves Cry” than it is a feature film, it was certainly mostly intended to be an expensive promotional material for Prince’s album Purple Rain, and yet the writer in me has no choice but to pay attention to the words and obscenities exchanged. Purple Rain, the film, has needlessly sad plot points, unnecessary abuse and tumult, and perhaps the loosest plot of any movie of all time (including Pink Narcissus, which is mostly just pink-tinted gay porn) but boy did it sell well at the box office, and prove to be one of the most successful and lucrative moves Warner Bros ever made in their long history. The big wigs probably didn’t care about some of the details in this film, like the countless bizarre trinkets sprinkled throughout The Kid’s basement bedroom or the little monkey puppet that he speaks through when he doesn’t want to address his band directly, but I care about these details. Purple Rain is so very odd—in its pacing, in its story, in its character’s motivations. I haven’t been this confused about a main character’s behaviors and motivations since I watched Sweet November, but I was certainly entertained. Of course, the music is great, although there’s many more Prince songs I would’ve liked to have heard, and of course Prince steals the show. He was a better actor than I’d imagined, and far more revealing of his true colors (so to speak ;)) and personality than I would’ve expected. It’s not that Purple Rain is a good movie as much as it is a significant member of the exclusive club of films made to promote albums, and I can see why this one is a favorite of the bunch. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t kind of moved when Prince took the stage and sang “Purple Rain” for the first time, perhaps because it transported me back to his memorable Super Bowl Halftime performance, that took place, unplanned, in the rain. The rain droplet-covered cameras could barely capture just how powerful that performance was, and this silly little movie barely captured just how talented and show-stopping Prince was. Though not much was said, and not much happened at all, Purple Rain is an iconic piece of cinematic and musical history, and shows what can be accomplished when we let our most creative, most kooky artists run wild—for better or worse. (It also inspired a Nigerien [Niger, not Nigeria] remake, within a country that speaks a language that has no word for “purple”, which is crazy and cool.) The color purple was of course showcased brilliantly throughout this film, as it was Prince’s signature color, and he could wear it like no other royalty that came before him, or since. I wish the same could be said for Purple Noon, but that film prioritized its story over its aesthetics (and yet, only the aesthetics stood out!) Thank you for reading along this week my fellow purple appreciators, and no matter what your favorite color is, I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain! Viva  Ƭ̵̬̊ !