First off, let me make one thing abundantly clear--I think Prince is a genius, and I say that with absolutely no reservations. I was into "His Royal Badness" from the time I was 9 years old, back when Prince and Michael Jackson were battling for the crown of "America's Favorite Effeminent Black Man." (Debarge was briefly in the running as well, but he could only milk Rhythm Of The Night for so long.) People were constantly debating the merits of both singers, asking "who's better?" Well, allow me to steal an observation from Chris Rock, if I may... Prince won that battle, hands down. And I'm not just saying that just because Jacko became a freak; hell, truth be told, Prince is pretty loony himself. But the bottom line is this--I'd still feel comfortable blasting Darling Nikki on my car stereo while driving down the street. I would not, however, feel comfortable blaring P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing). Not even in the privacy of my own home.

Simply put, Prince is a musical prodigy. And he came along at the perfect time, a time when record companies still had the patience to let artists develop. I have to give Warner Brothers credit, because when they signed Prince to his first recording contract in 1977, they were smart enough to know they'd found something special in this skinny kid from Minneapolis. They even agreed to let him produce his own albums, which was unheard of at the time--especially for a teenager with no credentials to speak of. But Prince proved himself worthy soon enough, from the raunchy funk of Dirty Mind (his first great record), the political statements masquerading as dance music on Controversy, to the utter brilliance of 1999. He was the complete package, and he could do just about anything--he wrote a lot of great songs, he arranged them, and more often than not played all the instruments, too. And consider this; even back in the early 80's the guy could play close to 30 different instruments, a fact that becomes even more impressive when you remember that he's completely self taught. So yeah, I dig Prince. I wouldn't want him pounding on my door and spouting off to me with his Jehovah's Witness rhetoric, but I dig him... and I respect him.

Let me take you all back to 1984; the USA was kicking ass in the Olympic games, mostly due to a Soviet boycott and Mary Lou Retton... Jacko and his brothers hit the road for a summer tour to support their Victory album (which NOBODY listens to today)... kids were watching He-Man And The Masters Of The Universe on TV and buying all the toys, too... The Karate Kid hit theaters... the video game industry crashed and burned... people were chowing down on Chicken McNuggets... and Prince released Purple Rain.

With several successful albums under his belt, Prince was the Warner Brothers golden boy. So, when he cracked his little purple whip and told them he wanted to star in a major motion picture, they were only too happy to kiss his ass. The result was a commissioned, "semi autobiographical" screenplay by William Blinn entitled Dreams--but Prince didn't like the finished product, and insisted that it be redone. Being Prince, he also insisted that the word "purple" be included in the title. (What can I say, man, the guy has a hard on for all things purple.) At this point, director Albert Magnoli came on board, rewrote the script, and somehow, someway managed to come up with something Prince approved of. With that, the pieces were in place to make Purple Rain, a cinematic masterpiece and, for me, the only true "must see" movie of 1984.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't a "masterpiece." Maybe it wasn't even that good. But when it was released to theaters that summer, I just HAD to see it, if for no other reason than to actually hear Prince talk. (Back in those days, the motherfucker was far too cool to do interviews, so nobody knew what his speaking voice sounded like.) And let's be honest here, I had to satisfy my adolescent lust and get a gander at Apollonia naked. There was a problem, though... I was only 10 years old at the time, and therefore couldn't get into a rated R movie without an adult. Consequently, I was forced to see Purple Rain accompanied by my brother and... *shudder*... my mom.

Yeah, it was more than just a bit awkward. The sight of Prince caressing Apollonia's ample funbags on the big screen is NOT a situation where you like having your mommy sitting in the seat next to you. I also shifted uncomfortably when Prince humped the stage and moaned how he'd found Darling Nikki "in a hotel lobby, masturbating with a magazine." But you have to remember, I was only a child and I was easily impressed--so when the movie was over, I couldn't stop raving about how "totally awesome" it was. Mom, however, threw cold water on my opinion when she groused "That movie was terrible, and it was degrading to women!"

I was floored that my mother didn't recognize a magnificent piece of cinema when she saw it. I mean, really... "degrading to women?" How absurd. "No, it wasn't!" I cried, honestly insulted. To me, it was an uplifting, "feel good" type of movie with a classic plot; you had Prince playing a put-upon hero, "The Kid," who is a struggling musician trying to make it to stardom--despite the many roadblocks orchestrated by his rival (and the villain), Morris Day of The Time. The Kid had plenty of things going against him... his band The Revolution was breaking up because of his controlling ways, his parents were constantly fighting, Morris was trying to sabotage his career, and people weren't digging his music nearly as much as they used to. But with the help of his special girl Apollonia, he overcame his demons, reclaimed his muse and learned that love conquers all. Isn't that lovely? I'd hardly call that "degrading to women." I mean, he DID love the girl and all that shit... it just so happens that he had to slap her around a few times before he learned that. Hey, we all have our little quirks.

It's been over 20 years since I first saw Purple Rain, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I still love it. Okay, so the acting is horrific, the script is corny, and you know what else? I suppose it really is degrading to women. I didn't notice that fact when I was a kid, but now I have the sophisticated insight of an adult. (The reader should note that I couldn't keep a straight face as I typed that last sentence.)

While I'm the subject, though, let me ruminate on what I think Purple Rain is REALLY about. Some people think of it as merely as a musical, and not a terribly good one at that--but I think it's far more. I think of it as a manifesto on the meaning of life, and certainly my own life has been enriched by its many valuable lessons. Need some examples? Read on...

WHAT "PURPLE RAIN" TAUGHT ME ABOUT WOMEN, AND LIFE IN GENERAL

It's possible for a man to dress up in purple velvet, spike heeled boots and fingerless lace gloves and STILL get laid constantly.

I know that a lot of people (some of my friends included) have always blithely written Prince off as a "fag." I never bought that, nor did I give a shit about what they thought--and neither did Prince, as it turns out. No, he was more concerned about banging the likes of Sheena Easton, Kim Basinger and Carmen Electra. Hell, if I was getting ass like that, I wouldn't worry about people calling me a fag, either. I'd be too busy putting on my purple condoms and dipping into their golden treasures 5 to 10 times a day to bother with such nonsense. But I digress...

I think the Purple Rain movie had a lot to do with that whole "gay" stigma surrounding Prince. Consider the facts... Prince spends the entire film prancing around in clothing that I'd be afraid to wear in public, lest I get savagely beaten by homophobic rednecks. Prince wore skintight pants, lots of makeup, and he was rocking the "Puffy Shirt" LONG before Seinfeld even thought of doing it. It takes a lot of balls for a man to dress like that, trust me. And what was with those spiked, high heeled boots? Not being a tall man myself, I can understand the desire to appear taller--but I would NEVER wear heels, man. For one thing, I'd look fucking ridiculous. Aside from that, I'm not graceful enough to walk in heels; I'm far too klutzy.

But whatever fashion statement Prince was trying to make, it worked for him--even if he was dressed a bit fruity. Every woman in the movie was practically fainting with lust every time the little bastard sashayed by. The moral? "If you wear lace, velvet and enough Jeri Curl in your hair to grease an elephant, people might laugh at you... but you'll also get to nail Apollonia." Seems like a fair trade-off to me.

If a woman angrily confronts you on the streets, your best course of action is to heave her into a dumpster.

WOW, was that fucked up or what? There's one scene in Purple Rain in which Morris day and Jerome are walking the streets of Minneapolis, complaining about the "bitches" in the new music act they're trying to put together. Then, all of a sudden, this chick comes out of nowhere and starts yelling "Morris Day! Where the hell were you last night?? You know, I waited up ALL NIGHT for you!!" Morris, having no desire to be involved in a public scene, merely sighs and says "Jerome?" At this point, Jerome grabs the woman around the waist, pulls her into an alley and, get this... HOISTS HER INTO A FUCKING DUMPSTER. Now, that might sound a bit extreme, but I'll tell you this much--it solved the problem, in the sense that being slalomed head first into a heap of trash bags was a good way to shut her mouth.

I once tried this same technique on one of my girlfriends when she started yelling at me in public; but after I slung her over my shoulder, she starting kicking like a mule. I never made it to the dumpster and ended up dropping her on the sewer grate. That was my fault, though, because I shouldn't have done it myself... I SHOULD have acquired a Jerome to do it for me. The moral? "If you ever need to heave a screaming woman into a dumpster, don't do it yourself. Have a flunky do it for you." Words to live by.

If you want to impress a woman on a first date, trick her into stripping down to her panties and then instruct her to dive into an ice cold lake. Then, as she's sputtering around in the water, get on your motorcycle and ride away.

This particular part of the film really affected my adolescent mind, and it wasn't only because of Apollonia's lovely, lovely hooters. Admittedly, it was mostly because of them, but not all. (Damn, that woman had a great rack!) Let me set the scene for you--The Kid has taken Apollonia for a nice romp through the countryside on his purple motorcycle, to the strains of Take Me With U. They end up at the shore of a lake, where Apollonia tells The Kid about her dreams of being a star, and tries to get some insight into her enigmatic, mascara wearing hunk of manhood. Instead of me describing what happens next, just read some of this stunning dialogue, keeping in mind that I'm reciting this shit from memory;

THE KID: Is that what turns you on?

APOLLONIA: What?

THE KID: Making it.

APOLLONIA: It would be nice for a change. It's... all I dream about. And you? What do YOU dream about?

A long beat follows, with The Kid looking mysterious and enigmatic.

APOLLONIA: Will you help me?

THE KID: Nope. (He skips a rock into the lake, somehow STILL managing to look mysterious and enigmatic.)

APOLLONIA: Pardon me?

THE KID: Nope. You wanna know why?

APOLLONIA: Nope!

THE KID: Because you wouldn't pass the initiation.

APOLLONIA: What initiation?

THE KID: Well, for starters... you have to purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.

APOLLONIA: What..??

THE KID: You have to purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.

And with that stellar setup, Apollonia promptly begins undressing. I have to tell you, I was fairly perplexed at this point, because
a) I had no idea what the fuck Prince was talking about, and
b) I had no idea it was that easy to get a woman naked.

So, Apollonia takes a dive into the icy waters as The Kid looks on--and faster than you can say "That ain't Lake Minnetonka," he gets on his motorcycle, starts it up, and speeds away. As to why he did that, I haven't the slightest idea. But here's the clincher--as he's leaving her in his dust, the humiliated Apollonia is clumsily trying to put her clothes back on, shouting things like "You bastard! I'll kill you! Are you sick?? How many girls have you done this to??" The Kid (classy guy that he is), eventually comes back to get her--and when she climbs up behind him on the motorcycle, he says "Don't get my seat all wet." So, what does Apollonia do?? SHE KISSES HIM ON THE CHEEK!

I remember sitting in that dark theater, my mouth agape, trying to comprehend what I had just seen. I was thinking "Let me get this straight... he completely humiliates her and insults her, and instead of kicking him in the balls, she gives him a kiss." My young mind struggled to understand the implications of this... I mean, really, do women LIKE it when you humiliate them and insult them? "I guess they must," the little voice in my head told me. The moral? "Women secretly love to be treated like shit. Oh sure, they'll bitch and moan about it... but deep down, they love it."

If you ever get to a point where your career as a musician is all riding on one gig, it's a good idea to perform a brand new song. Don't worry if you've never even rehearsed the song with your band. Just wing that mutha'.

Near the end of Purple Rain, things are going pretty badly for The Kid. Apollonia is pissed at him for slapping her around, band members Lisa and Wendy are pissed at him for ignoring the music they wrote, his dad just shot himself in the head, and to top it all off, he's about to get fired from his plumb gig as one of the house bands at First Avenue--by Apollonia's new group, no less. These are the kinds of things that might worry a person; unless, of course, that person is Prince.

Just before The Revolution takes the stage, his boss takes The Kid aside and tells him "Morris is squeezing you, Kid. You'd better kick ass tonight, or else." So, what should The Kid do? An encore performance of a surefire crowd pleaser like Let's Go Crazy, perhaps? Not a chance. Instead, he takes the stage to a small smattering of applause, stares blankly at the crowd for a good thirty seconds... and says, in a monotone voice; "I'd like to dedicate this to my father. It's a song... the girls in the band wrote... Wendy and Lisa." And with that, the band launches into a spontaneous rendition of the song Purple Rain.

This is surprising for several reasons; number one, Purple Rain had supposedly never been rehearsed by The Revolution, not even once. Wendy and Lisa are seen rehearsing it one time, but the rest of the band isn't even there. Number two, why would he dedicate a song like that to his father in the first place? Consider some of the lyrics;

"I never wanted 2 be your weekend lover
I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend, yeah
Baby, I could never steal u from another
It's such a shame our friendship had 2 end."

I don't know about the rest of you, but I find that kind of creepy. I sure as hell don't think of MY old man while I listen to that song, but maybe that's just me. Despite all of this, the band is able to perform an eight minute, flawless version of the song--and by the end of it, Apollonia loves The Kid again, his gig at First Avenue is safe and the crowd is back on his side. Not too shabby for a song about oddly colored precipitation. The moral? "When you're faced with a situation in which your whole future depends on what you do in ONE given moment, don't put too much thought into it. Just charge ahead blindly and hope for the best."

Apparently, the vast majority of graffiti artists in Minnesota are religious hippies.

Case in point--during the When Doves Cry segment of the film, Prince tools around on his motorcycle, pondering the meaning of it all. At several points, graffiti is clearly visible on some of the walls and tunnels Prince rides past--and instead of seeing the usual gang related bullshit, we see words like "God" and "Love" spray painted all over the damn place. Now, I ask you... what the FUCK is that all about??

Living near Detroit, I've seen my fair share of graffiti. In fact, my very first apartment had a lovely view of a brick wall, where the phrase "Folk Killa" decorated it and gave it a nice, classy touch. My current apartment has some graffiti too, most notably the phrase "Bitch Ass House," which somebody was nice enough to write just above my mailbox. In other words, I know graffiti--but I've never seen the kind of graffiti that's in Prince's world. Maybe they don't have gangs in Minnesota. Or maybe the gang members over there are a bunch of Jesus freaks. Ahhh, who the hell knows...
The moral? Uh... actually, there is no moral to this one, I was just making an observation. Shut up and don't bitch about it, man--I'm just winging this mutha', like Prince taught me.

To be continued... maybe...

-JTL

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