The Color Purple (1985) is directed by Steven Spielberg and stars Whoopi Goldberg, Margaret Avery, Oprah Winfrey, Danny Glover, and Willard E. Pugh. The film chronicles the life of Celie Johnson over four decades during the early 1900s. As a child, she grows up with her younger sister, Nettie. Celie and Nettie are the best of friends and love each other more than anything. During this time, their father forcibly impregnates Celie on two different occasions. When Celie gives birth, her father immediately gives the babies away. At the age of fourteen, she is forced to marry a cold and abusive older man whom she calls “Mister” (Glover). After an incident between Mister and Nettie, Mister forbids the two sisters from ever seeing each other again. As Celie’s life continues without the support of her sister, she is continuously beaten down mentally, physically, and emotionally. Celie is a prisoner and she doesn’t even know it. When Mister’s mistress, Shug Avery (Avery) begins living with him and Celia, a sisterhood between the two women is quickly formed. Through the support of Shug and her sister-in-law, Sofia, Celie begins to build up the courage to find her sister and leave Mister once and for all. 

The performances by the three leading ladies are truly remarkable and it’s no surprise that each one was nominated for an Academy Award. Whoopi Goldberg plays Celie with a sense of shyness that works perfectly. She’s weak and scared from a lifetime of abuse, but the film isn’t hesitant to present her this way like most modern films relating to the subject matter. This results in her journey to empowerment by the end of the film feeling genuine and earned. She’s just a character we want so desperately to find happiness. Even when she becomes complacent in her abusive situation, we understand why. She’s never weak, she just doesn’t realize that her situation could be different. Through experiencing love and friendship, she’s eventually able to break free and become the character the audience roots for. Modern movies just seem to cynically want “strong female characters” but never take the time to develop that strength. But this film begs a question for me: What’s a strong woman? Are they strong in the same ways men are? Sometimes, yes. A majority of the time, no. Or are they strong in different, more specific ways that are exclusive to their gender? Presenting a strong female character in the same ways as a strong male character seems wildly cynical and dishonest. The women in The Color Purple build their strength through their ability to carry on no matter the worst hardships. Their ability to achieve so much in a world that constantly tells them they can’t is an overwhelming sign of strength. Unlike just soullessly copying the men and giving the protagonists the ability to physically kick ass, this portrayal of female strength is honest and all the more effective for it. If anything, this film shows that being a physically fit ass-kicker will probably just turn you into a violent person in general. Let’s accept our differences and realize that we’re all strong in our own unique, equally important ways. I’m talking in generalities here, so keep that in mind.  

Oprah Winfrey as Sophia is the true standout here. I’ll admit, this is the first film I’ve seen her act in and I couldn’t be more impressed. She brings this level of spunk and energy that I was not expecting. Likewise, her emotional scenes are some of the more devastating/effective moments that the film has to offer. The character goes through many developments; physical, emotional, or otherwise; but none of them seem underdeveloped. Her character provides the film with some fantastic subplots that heighten the complexity of the story. I just still can’t believe this was Oprah’s first foray into mainstream acting. 

Margaret Avery is likewise fantastic as Shug Avery. The character has a bit of a mean streak but also carries around a certain softness that balances the character well. She has a few scenes where she gets to show off her singing ability and absolutely kills it. The character succeeds in creating a nice amount of complex feelings in multiple characters. In other words, she’s essential to the plot and keeps things moving. 

Danny Glover is sufficiently despicable as “Mister.” He brings this level of “What am I doing wrong?” to his actions which makes him even more nasty. However, by the end of the film, we do get a certain level of insight as to why he acts the way he does. It’s not fully redeeming, but it does make the character a bit less of a villainous caricature. 

This relates to one of the biggest ways the film succeeds. It treats even its worst characters with a certain level of heart. Almost every character receives some kind of arc, turning the final thirty minutes into an explosion of satisfying resolution that feels definitive. It wraps things up in a way that feels perfect, but not so perfect that it feels unrealistic.

The film is generally a compelling journey of overcoming abuse, emotional pain, and racism. Not only that, but it dives into the more complex idea of how abuse can cause the victim to continue that cycle. This is shown through Celie’s relationship with Mister and her father as well as Mister’s relationship with his father. At one point, Celie tells Sofia’s husband, Harpo (Pugh) to beat her if he can’t control her. Celie says this even though she and Sofia are good friends. At that point in the film, Celie just sees it as a fact of life. 

The film also dives into the idea of how even after the abolition of slavery, black Americans, especially black American women, were still roped into forms of slavery/indentured servitude. For example, at one point in the film, Sofia is approached by a white woman who compliments her on her adorable children. She then offers Sofia to work as her maid. Sofia responds multiple times with “Hell no!” The white woman’s husband comes to her defense and verbally berates Sofia in the street. After one particularly nasty insult, Sofia punches the man in the face. She is quickly surrounded by white citizens who violently insult her up until the moment when the sheriff arrives. Instead of breaking up the mob, he immediately approaches Sofia and without any questions, pistol whips her in the face. She is immediately taken to prison. Upon release, the same white woman from before requests that Sofia teach her how to drive. Broken down and with few opportunities after her prison stint, she is forced to accept. She did nothing wrong except stand up for herself and society destroyed her for it. Because her new boss won’t even allow her to see her family, it just plays out as another form of slavery. Almost like the illusion of freedom. Speaking of the white people in the film, I found them genuinely and hilariously stupid. They all act like they’re nice people while realistically being gigantic pricks. The thing is, they genuinely think they’re being nice. I just found them so dense that I couldn’t help but laugh. I felt strange laughing at racism, but then I thought that if you don’t laugh at how absurd the racism was at this time, do you truly understand HOW ABSURD it was? Not laughing at it almost implies it has some sort of logic. It doesn’t and it never did.

As for some of my issues with the film, I felt that Spielberg uses a tone that works a majority of the time, but it comes at the expense of hammering home some of the more serious/disturbing moments. For example, there’s a scene between Mister and his son, Harpo where whimsical music plays as they discuss the subject of beating their wives to keep them in line. It felt beyond weird. The subject of familial sexual abuse is strangely underplayed in the early portion of the film, almost like Spielberg himself was too uncomfortable with the subject matter to analyze it in-depth. Speaking of Spielberg sometimes lacking bravery, he makes a strange directorial choice during the previously mentioned scene involving Sofia’s arrest/assault. Spielberg chooses to needlessly cut away from the moment in which Sofia punches the man in the face. The thing is, he doesn’t cut away from any physical violence leading up to this moment. We see women getting beat by their husbands left and right, yet for some reason, Speilberg thinks we can’t handle seeing someone get hit who actually deserves it. I guess in the 1980s, black-on-black violence was ok but not black-on-white violence. As a mostly tender and understanding film, moments like these were quite frankly annoying. My last issue has to do with the fact that some occasional moments of dialogue feel out of place. Characters who can barely read randomly talk like Shakespeare when the moment requires it. It gives the film a sort of storybook quality, but it just feels like they don’t translate well from script to screen (or book to screen considering that the film is based on a book of the same name). 

Overall, this is a fantastic film about the bonds of sisterhood built through the shared experience of hardship and discrimination. The cinematography is great and feels refreshing to visit a time when real locations were used as the default. It has its various flaws, but it’s unbelievably emotionally effective because it honestly earns even its smallest moments. Yes, the film is long, but I felt it was necessary to truly understand not just the characters’ pain, but also the overwhelming decades-long extent of that pain. We follow them through every hardship and sometimes they become so pervasive that we question whether they’ll ever find any kind of peace. When we finally reach that point, the film is almost heart-stopping. I cried, I’ll admit it. The film leaves the viewer with the simple but effective idea that everyone at their core just wants to be loved. When I look back on the film, almost every despicable character is the way they are because of a lack of love in one form or another. Applying this idea to the most sour people I’ve ever known has made me realize just how true it can be. B+