Jonah Naplan December 25, 2023
“The Color Purple” is a beautiful and frequently stunning adaptation of a beloved story that honors the intent and ideas of the original while adding some new twists of its own. The source material is Alice Walker’s 1982 novel, which was adapted three years later into a 1985 film directed by Steven Spielberg—who produced this one—followed by a Broadway production in 2005 that invented two dozen catchy tunes and, inevitably, was revived in 2015 starring Jennifer Hudson and Cynthia Erivo. Now we have, well, “The Color Purple” again—the most recent film adaptation of it. And it miraculously succeeds as both a faithful adaptation and a distinctly modernized version of the tale that doesn’t shortchange time period aesthetics for a more accessible backdrop. It is one of the best and most thoughtful movies of the year.
A recap in case it’s been a minute or you’re not familiar with the story at all: Celie (played in youth by Phylicia Pearl Mpasi, and in adulthood by Fantasia Barrino, both making their big screen debuts) and her sister Nettie (Halle Bailey—who was so good in this year’s “The Little Mermaid”) are two young girls living in Georgia right around the turn of the nineteenth century. Their relationship is tight-knit, and it needs to be in order to overcome the horrible abuses of their cruel father Alfonso (Deon Cole), who impregnates Celie twice and auctions off the resulting children. By some point he decides he’s had enough of her, and sells Celie off to be the wife of the equally abusive Mister (Colman Domingo), ultimately separating the two sisters for decades. But this is not the story of two sisters trying to reconnect over the course of a lifetime; it’s the tale of how one learns to pave a future for herself all alone—well, alone with the help of some friends.
Mister, who we begin to despise more and more as time goes on, does not love Celie (and that feeling is most certainly mutual). He’s infatuated with Shug Avery (Taraji P. Henson), a spunky blues singer who becomes one of Celie’s closest allies over the course of her many visits to town. Henson’s performance will go either way for most people; the nature of her character is inherently flamboyant which will alienate some, and please others—but no matter where you stand, it’s impossible to deny the infectious energy she’s bringing to the role in every scene, showing her entire range in dramatic, comedic or musical sequences. Equally as elastic is Celie’s daughter-in-law Sofia (Danielle Brooks, who played the same role in the 2015 Broadway iteration), whose persona would usually be compared to the sort of no-nonsense Black sidekick used for emotional support and comic relief in a 2010s rom-com; but given that “The Color Purple” is much more intelligent of a picture than any of those, and it stars an exclusively African-American cast, her character evolves beyond the analogy.
Despite continued verbal and physical abuse from her “husband,” Celie persists in her dreams and aspirations, finding some hope when it is revealed that Nettie had been writing to her every single week, but those letters were intercepted and stuffed away by Mister, a hiding place soon discovered. Shug surmises that the hopeful flutter Celie feels in her chest whenever she thinks about her children suggests they’re still out there and she eventually turns out to be correct; the uncovered letters from Nettie confirm that her two children, Adam and Olivia, are, in fact, alive.
“The Color Purple” continues to examine the value of lost time, lost lives, and the impact those things can have on a person’s mindset by making the possibility of reuniting with her children Celie’s motivation to get out of bed in the morning. She opens her own business, Celie’s Fancy Pants, and continues searching for herself amidst recurring troubles at home. Fantasia Barrino is the film’s greatest revelation, absolutely nailing the image of Celie by submitting to all the emotions her character requires. She’s got an elasticity; in one moment she can be so somber, pulling you down with her as she contemplates her place in this cruel world, while in the next she’s the center of a spectacular song-and-dance number, radiating pure joy. Barrino is the undeniable sun of this solar system; everyone and everything else orbits around her, as she emits her warmth and energy to those she’s surrounded by—Henson, Brooks, Domingo, Corey Hawkins, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, and even famous pianist Jon Batiste.
Barrino is also the strong but steady focus of many of the movie’s jazzy interludes, all of which are shot in riveting detail by cinematographer Dan Laustsen (who was also responsible for the beauty of this year’s “John Wick: Chapter 4,” a movie with no relation to “The Color Purple” whatsoever other than they’re both great and share the same DOP). Each one is outstanding, both on a toe-tapping and moviemaking level, finding innovative ways to capture all the physicality and expression of a scene that is inherently going to be out of place in a story that is otherwise wholly raw and realistic—people don’t just break into song in public—but we play along anyway. Director Blitz Bazawule shines a light on the culture of this music—an unholy fusion of Broadway show tunes and gospel whines—by not simply censoring it for “modern” purposes, ultimately exposing the current generation to a new genre, which can revitalize their perception of the medium whether or not they like the actual movie part of the movie.
“The Color Purple” is a lot like a ballet, one of images, noise, and intimations of violence. I mean this not just in the way the visuals, characters, and ideas literally or figuratively dance across the screen, but in how it captures the essence of a disaster before it unfolds, the steady decline of a relationship or bond, and the taxing nature of hatred towards one person or a small group of people, which can force you to fend for yourself and pave your own adventure; all immutable facts of life. There’s something about this immortal narrative, rewritten with new touches by screenwriter Marcus Gardley, that gets under your skin; perhaps it’s the injustice and racism of it all, even among Black brothers and sisters, or the presumed grief you face by not knowing what really happened to a loved one, or maybe it’s the uncertainty you feel when thinking about a possible outcome or merely by staring at yourself in the mirror. For a movie in which characters spontaneously start singing just because that feels right in the moment, and then everyone else sort of just starts doing it too, “The Color Purple” is very human, and maybe not in the ways you’d expect.
Where “The Color Purple” falters, and often, is in its poor development of Mister, a character too complex for this movie with many other things on its mind to handle. Domingo is undeniably talented, and his performance here is mainly working in service of villainy until the last twenty-five minutes or so when the man experiences a sudden change of heart and magically transforms into a “good guy.” The massive character shift is less than convincing, despite Domingo selling the heck out of it like the stellar actor he is, and the movie trusts that by observing him we’ll, too, suddenly flip our mindset on its head. Unfortunately, for a character that irrefutably despicable, the movie never offers up much reason for either his change of mind or our will to support it. It’s a rushed and incredibly transactional choice in a film that is otherwise so poignant and moving.
Still, “The Color Purple” will satisfy most musical theater connoisseurs and any fans of the original novel looking for a new twist. The Christmas weekend has long cherished movies like this—the kind that rewards the viewer for keeping a high spirit by ending happily, but only just enough so that there’s still plenty of room to ruminate after you’ve left the theater. It’s a crowd-pleaser, perfect for this time of year, but it’s also mysterious, magical, and exciting, like a good musical should be.
Now playing in theaters.