Prince’s “Purple Rain” can be seen as a cinematic valentine to Minneapolis from our most prominent rock music figure or as a contemporary backstage musical. Either way, it succeeds nicely on its own terms. ”Purple Rain” was filmed last November and December in 32 locations in and around Minneapolis. Just like when we watched the made-in-Minneapolis “The Personals” a couple of years ago, we might find ourselves trying to pinpoint where a particular scene in this film was shot or trying to pick out a familiar face in a crowd.
You can’t miss First Avenue, the downtown club where most of the concert scenes took place. Just about every time the action shifts to the club, the camera shows the front door and marquee. The club is so prominent that it undoubtedly will end up on the itinerary of every Prince fanatic in much the same way that Beatles fans flocked to Liverpool’s Cavern Club, where the Fab Four cut their teeth.
The odd thing, though, is that this film never mentions Minneapolis. Not once. It’s not in the dialogue, on any road signs or even in some offhanded remark or inconsequential backdrop. The only giveaway that the film takes place here is a reference to Lake Minnetonka, glimpses of “Land of 10,000 Lakes” license plates and the closing credits, which thank the mayor, police and people of the city.
Yet Minneapolis is so much a part of this movie. The attitudes and tenor of the local music scene have shaped the look and essence of this picture. It’s not that “Purple Rain” is so much the story of Prince and his royal court of musical funkateers, because it’s not. But it focuses on a healthy, competitive music scene and the relationships among the bands, club owners and the individuals within a band. That’s why, in essence, “Purple Rain” is a contemporary entry in the backstage musical genre.
It is not, however, the greatest rock film ever, as one critic has contended. In many ways, “Purple Rain” exudes the classic qualities of the best rock ‘n’ roll music: aggressiveness, irreverence and sexiness. It could have been a great movie; the story is strong and credible, the musical sequences are magnificent and joltingly powerful, and the cinematography is appropriately moody and generally first-rate. However, the acting is erratic, the violence and sexism are excessive, tasteless and gratuitous, and it takes too long for the viewers to become emotionally involved with the many players and plots in this 104-minute drama.
In some respects, rookie director Al Magnoli, who also co-wrote the screenplay and edited the film, has adopted a style not unlike “Flashdance” and “Footloose,” two recent music-oriented flicks that were big winners with teens and young adults. Like a rock video, this movie cuts quickly from scene to scene, with the camera never staying anywhere too long except on the concert sequences. Magnoli’s style gives the film an intoxicating yet discomforting edge, much like Prince’s music of the early ’80s.
Even though the music performances may be the most memorable scenes in the film, Magnoli skillfully weaves them into the flow of the story and does not allow them to dominate or distract. The songs, most of which Prince wrote before he saw Magnoli’s script, smartly complement the storyline from the perspective of his character, the Kid.
He comes from a troubled home where the father, a once-gifted but now closet musician, abuses the mother. The only way the Kid can escape this cruel world is through his music. But the music thing isn’t going so well, either. His band seems to have lost its drawing power at First Avenue, losing out to the Time, Modernaires (Dez Dickerson’s band) and possibly Apollonia 6, a new band put together by Morris Day of the Time. Both Day and the Kid have their eye on Apollonia, the new girl in town. As the story unfolds, the Kid’s relationships with Apollonia and with his music parallel the struggles in his father’s life.
