The hue of violet, queer

Hollywood's often jaded perspective on sequels, reinterpretations, and reboots suggests they represent a facile monetization strategy within an intellectual property-driven industry. Nevertheless, their potential captivates me: the opportunity to revise, reconsider, and reinstate, armed with the advantage of hindsight, elements that were lost to historical circumstances. This is the essence of the joy derived from adapting a work anew.

Observe director Blitz Bazawule's 2023 cinematic musical reimagining, The Color Purple. 

Debuting in cinemas on Christmas Day, over four decades following the publication of Alice Walker's foundational novel in 1982 and almost twenty years after its premiere on Broadway in 2005, Bazawule's iteration of The Color Purple proffered a "bold new interpretation of the cherished classic."

However, the musical film revival of The Color Purple presents itself as less forward-thinking and deviates more from its source material than Steven Spielberg's 1985 cinematic endeavor, let alone the original Broadway musical production. 

The Color Purple, esteemed as one of our most significant literary achievements, chronicles the life of Celie, a disadvantaged Black lesbian from Georgia, and her decades-long odyssey through the trials of racism, domestic abuse, and misogynoir, ultimately culminating in self-acceptance and love.

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It serves as a profoundly valuable framework for communal healing, primarily because it places the most vulnerable individuals at its core: a poor, Black, queer woman. Any adaptation aiming to honor the fundamental essence of Walker's novel must thus prioritize and cherish Black lesbian Celie with the same fervor that Walker herself did. Regrettably, this latest rendition of The Color Purple fails to achieve this crucial objective.

Within the literary work, Celie endures severe mistreatment from her stepfather, who fathers two children with her, and from her husband, Mister. This abuse leads her to believe that divine providence has forsaken her. Nevertheless, her recollections of her long-lost sister, Nettie, and her bond with the resolute Sofia, who vociferously rejects domestic abuse, equip her with the resilience to confront and resist her circumstances. Celie's romantic and sexual awakening, sparked by an intimate relationship with her husband's occasional lover, Shug Avery, initiates Celie's journey toward experiencing genuine love. She comes to understand that God has not abandoned her but resides within her and permeates all existence, even something as humble yet radiant as the color purple.

In Spielberg's adaptation, when Celie articulates her feelings of unlovedness, Shug emphatically declares her affection and proceeds to bestow tender kisses upon Celie's requested areas: her right cheek, then her forehead, her left cheek, and finally, her mouth. Spielberg's camera closely follows Shug's hand as it gently strokes Celie's shoulder, subsequently focusing on Celie's hand as it grasps Shug's. The scene then transitions to a visual representation of a tingling wind chime. This depiction is imbued with sensuality and romance, yet it also represents a missed opportunity by refraining from exploring their connection further on screen.

In the Broadway musical production, Shug endeavors to compensate for having previously called Celie "ugly" by performing the song "Too Beautiful For Words." This moment signifies Shug's profound recognition of Celie and her reciprocal acknowledgment of Celie's attraction for the first time. They then share a kiss and perform "What About Love?", a duet whose lyrics were described as "platitudinous" by Jeremy McCarter in his critique for The New Yorker. He also criticized the staging for reducing the romantic dynamic between Celie and Shug to merely "a couple of timid kisses."

In Bazawule's rendition, Shug omits any remark about Celie being "ugly." Crucially, she also refrains from singing "Too Beautiful for Words," an omission that proves detrimental to the production's narrative later in the film. Fantasia Barrino, who previously portrayed Celie in the Broadway production, has recently received a Golden Globe nomination for best actress for her performance in the same role within the film. Taraji P. Henson embodies the charismatic Shug. The two artists exhibit remarkable vocal synergy on "What About Love?", suggesting the underlying sexual dynamic present in the source material. Unfortunately, their rendition of the song is confined to Celie's imagination.

Throughout the film's progression, Bazawule employs magical realism as a narrative device to vividly portray Celie's internal thoughts and emotions. In actuality, Celie and Shug are depicted seated in an unoccupied cinema. Suddenly, Celie visualizes herself and Shug on a film set, engaged in dancing, and concluding their musical number with a modest, chaste kiss.

Although the characters do share an actual kiss within the movie theater - a moment occurring outside of Celie's imagined scenario - the crucial context is diminished by placing the expository song within Celie's internal world. This choice obfuscates the clarity of Shug's sentiments and underlying intentions. What is the actual significance of this kiss from her perspective?

The meaning of the kiss from Bazawule's directorial standpoint is even less discernible. Whereas Spielberg utilized extreme close-ups to immerse the audience in their embraces, Bazawule adopts a more distant perspective, shrouding their kiss in shadows as if it were something illicit or unappealing. He then transitions to a demure scene of Celie asleep in bed, with Shug's inactive hand resting upon Celie's waist. Moments later, Shug rises from the bed, redirecting the narrative towards what the filmmaker apparently considers more pivotal plot developments.

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Bazawule further reinforces the perception that Celie's affections are unreciprocated when Celie informs Shug that Mister (portrayed by Colman Domingo) resorts to violence against her in Shug's absence. Celie implores Shug to accompany her to Memphis, Tennessee, but an indifferent or unfeeling Shug dismisses her plea with a casual "Next time," driving away and leaving a heartbroken Celie to face her abuser.

Shug as depicted in Walker's original novel would never behave in such a manner. Within the book, she assures Celie, "I won't leave until I know Albert (Mister) won't even think about beating you." The Shug presented in the novel severs ties with Mister due to his maltreatment of Celie, stating unequivocally: "Albert, you been mistreating somebody I love. So as far as you concerned, I'm gone." In contrast, Henson's portrayal of Shug not only appears capricious but also exhibits cruelty and dismissiveness, toying with Celie's emotions and overall well-being. 

A further divergence lies in the contrasting approaches taken by both the original film and this new adaptation concerning the song "Miss Celie's Blues." In the 1985 cinematic version, Shug dedicates the song to Celie in the presence of those who had previously subjected her to mockery. This act is instrumental in Celie's journey toward self-assurance and self-love, occurring prior to her intimate moments with Shug and serving as a prelude to their emotional and physical connection.

In the most recent interpretation, Shug performs "Miss Celie's Blues" in the latter half of the film, appearing entirely out of context. By this juncture, Celie has already departed from Mister and is no longer subjected to his abuses; she is flourishing in Memphis and has overcome her despondency. Consequently, what purpose does this song serve, other than to utilize the poignant lyrics, "Sister, you've been on my mind," to implicitly assure the audience that Shug's feelings for Celie are strictly platonic and fraternal? Or, perhaps more distressingly, given that Shug is dancing with her husband while directing these words towards Celie, this message might also be intended for Celie herself.

The reduction of Shug and Celie's relationship to a sisterly bond further diminishes the impact of Fantasia Barrino's significant second-act performance of "I'm Here." In the Broadway musical and the original novel, Celie and Shug share a loving relationship in Memphis. Shug's husband, Grady, has absconded with Harpo's girlfriend, Squeak, leaving their shared romantic circle consisting solely of Celie and Shug. However, while Celie is away establishing her pants manufacturing business back home in Georgia, Shug engages in an affair with a nineteen-year-old blues flutist (a narrative choice that is rather amusing, Alice Walker!). Upon Celie's return, Shug confesses her infidelity and pleads with Celie to permit her this brief dalliance for a period of six months, after which she pledges to resume their shared life together.

Celie is utterly devastated. In the Broadway musical, she delivers a reprise of their duet, "What About Love?", in an effort to remind Shug of her prior commitments. Shug remains unconvinced to stay, but at this particular stage of Celie's personal and spiritual maturation, she has developed a firm foundation of self-love. 

Celie articulates in the book, "If [Shug] come [back], I be happy. If she don't, I be content. And then I figure, this the lesson I was suppose to learn." The Broadway musical's song "I'm Here" emerges from this very sentiment, representing Celie's completion of the emotional cycle of grief and acceptance regarding Shug's potential departure. After all, she has endured far more significant hardships.

The latest film adaptation omits this crucial context, providing Celie with a substantially less potent motivation for her song. Mister visits Celie's shop to offer an apology, presenting her with a box of old mementos as a gesture of reconciliation. The sight of Nettie's hat, her daughter's pacifier, and an aged photograph of Shug serves as the impetus for Celie's rendition of "I'm Here." 

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When Barrino powerfully belts out the declaration, "I'm beautiful!", at the song's crescendo, it occurs without the essential context of Shug's earlier affirmation of Celie's beauty in "Too Beautiful for Words," a song intentionally omitted from the film. The repeated phrase, "I'm beautiful!", was intended to convey to Shug, irrespective of whether she chose to remain or depart, that Celie would not falter or lose the hard-won self-love she had cultivated. Much like Celie's parting words to Mister when she left him, "I'm Here" signifies that their approval or lack thereof did not define her existence or her success.

However, in the contemporary setting of 2023, it feels as though Celie arrives at this realization because Mister is making amends, an act Celie welcomes, though she wasn't deeply invested in it after escaping his torment. Mister's gesture of rectifying his past actions appears to be motivated by his own spiritual salvation rather than hers.

I distinctly recall witnessing Barrino's portrayal of Celie on Broadway and recognizing that I was observing an artist at the absolute zenith of her capabilities. She imbues The Color Purple with her full artistic power once again. This makes it profoundly perplexing that Bazawule elected to diminish both Celie's and Barrino's inherent strength by altering the narrative's most pivotal moments.

He makes a deliberate choice to depict the bed shaking violently during Celie's rape by Mister. Conversely, he chooses not to visually represent Celie's consensual romantic and sexual relationship with Shug, which is fundamental to her character development.

The fact that Celie's evolving relationship with both the divine and herself is discovered and explored through the lens of her lesbian identity is of considerable importance. This represents a vital affirmation of the liberating power and intrinsic sacredness associated with queerness. 

This crucial message was unequivocally conveyed in the original film when Shug entered her father's church on a Sunday morning, accompanied by a retinue of supporters, both within the congregation and seated in the pews, demanding that her father descend from his pulpit and "Speak to me." While this scene was not present in the novel, it was incorporated specifically for the film. Even by 1985 standards, it was evident that their embrace, signifying his recognition of the divine within Shug's untamable, sexually liberated spirit, needed to be as vociferous and public as the Reverend's prior disrespect had been. Yet, Bazawule's version permits the Reverend and the congregation, who had previously disparaged Shug, to avoid this necessary public reconciliation.

Instead, Shug and her father engage in a quiet reconciliation within an empty church, the scene pared down to the two of them seated at a piano. This represents yet another in a series of puzzling directorial decisions that underscore the notion that no "bold" or "new" outcome can arise from the diminishment of narratives centered on Black queer women. 

Considering all adaptations of The Color Purple, it is not lost on me that the last instance a Black American Southern queer woman had the opportunity to craft the story of Black American Southern queer Celie and Shug for a contemporary audience was in the early 1980s, concurrent with Walker's initial authorship of the novel.

When similar errors in adaptation persist across successive iterations of her work, it becomes imperative to scrutinize the individuals responsible for these creative endeavors. 

Regardless of any purported behind-the-scenes justifications for this latest adaptation, it is abundantly clear that considerations of gender and cultural specificity hold significant weight. Had these elements not been adequately represented, it would have been essential to have a filmmaking team prepared to vigorously defend the integrity of the queer Black women's love story against any perceived erasure. Furthermore, a studio system that would have proactively prevented the filmmakers from encountering such compromises in the first place was sorely needed. 

Nonetheless, moments within this most recent film evoked tears where they were expected. Laughter also arose, and I found myself cheering as Danielle Brooks surpassed the already high benchmark she had established for herself as Sofia on Broadway. My emotional responses served as a testament to the exceptional performances, the stunning cinematography, the evocative musical score, and the potent influence of nostalgia. However, these strengths cannot entirely compensate for the issue of colorism (Walker's description of Shug as "Black as tar" is notably contrasted with Nettie's portrayal, who was never depicted as light-skinned). Most certainly, these positive aspects do not overcome the deliberate erasure of the Black queer romance at the heart of the story. Bazawule's interpretation of The Color Purple stands as another instance of misadaptation concerning Walker's literary work—a blueprint that was disregarded, yet remains, quite astonishingly, ahead of its time, even after forty years have elapsed.