Prince’s immortality was always assured. And not just because of ‘Batdance’. Over four decades he reinvented and redefined pop music, not just ripping up but scoffing dismissively at rulebooks: calling his band The Revolution was a mission statement. With Purple Rain he rejuvenated the biopic too, rinsing the box-office and, in 1985, winning an Oscar (for Best Original Song Score, or in other words, ‘soundtrack’), which, in a sea of tuxedos, he graciously accepted while draped in a purple, sequined, hooded cape. Not content with that, just two years later he bashed out arguably the greatest concert movie. Actually, scrap ‘arguably’ – Sign O’ The Times’ recent IMAX upgrade seals that deal. Is it a gig? Is it a film? Is it an electrifying experience like no other I’ve had in a cinema? All of the above. Years after his death, Prince seemed as alive as ever. The movies will do that for you.
I saw it on a recent Saturday night at London’s BFI IMAX, and it was a packed house. Out in the lobby beforehand, the place hummed with anticipation for something almost everybody here had surely seen before, possibly countless times. There, and inside the auditorium, it felt truly communal – a shared experience, everybody on the same wavelength, the same high. There we were, watching a 38-year-old concert movie, its star long gone, now, but you wouldn’t have known it. There was Prince, the size of a house, holding us in the palms of his hands, commanding the room, like he always did – like he’d never been gone.
Prince was untouchable in 1987. It had been just nine years since he materialised practically fully-formed, seemingly out of nowhere, like a sex-obsessed, musically accomplished sprite: on his debut album For You, he played every single instrument, from guitar to glockenspiel. He was 19. He swiftly conquered Minneapolis and then the world, obliterating sonic and cultural barriers with Purple Rain, releasing groundbreaking masterworks annually before peaking – again, but really this time – with Sign O’ The Times, his magnum opus.
IMAX’s immensity suits Prince, who was always larger than life.
I remember hearing it back then for the first time, over four sides of vinyl in my friend’s bedroom after school, in awe of it, not knowing what to make of it, what to do with it. It felt like a new universe had been created. It lurched from the stripped down to the operatic, from lustful yearning to spiritual enlightenment, from intimate pleas to all-out parties. Sitars and synths crashed against icy drum-machines and pained guitars. And all the while, Prince sang like he might never sing again. ‘The Ballad Of Dorothy Parker’; ‘If I Was Your Girlfriend’; ‘The Cross’ – each song its own complete world, the album a glorious melange of all of his influences, while at the same time sounding like nobody else. Untouchable.
The concert movie of the same name appeared in cinemas mere months later, filmed at his own Paisley Park haven after he was displeased with footage shot on tour in Rotterdam and Antwerp. His decision also ensured complete control of, well, everything, and Prince was pop’s most merciless perfectionist. He directed it himself, with a lot more panache than the two other films he made – 1986’s French Riviera folly Under The Cherry Moon, and 1990’s musical mess Graffiti Bridge. Here, other than some slightly awkward but nevertheless charming interstitial interludes, he was at home, directing himself doing what he did best. And – unless you were there in Paisley Park – it has never looked or sounded as good as it does on IMAX’s re-release.
Sign O’ The Times is the world’s most hormonal concert movie. For the entirety of the thing, Prince is on heat (as was invariably the case throughout his life, to be fair). From the James Brown indebted funk-workout ‘Housequake’ to the doo-wop sex-sludge ‘Slow Love’ to the thick stank of ‘Hot Thing’ – there is no coyness here. On record, the songs already feel 3D, but on stage, they consume you whole, Prince and his troupe marching, grinding, grinning, the whole thing choreographed to an inch of its life, all in service of showbusiness. And today – almost 40 years on – enveloped by it in an IMAX cinema, it still feels like the greatest show on Earth. The film has been remastered for this release, and it gleams.
IMAX’s immensity suits Prince, who was always larger than life. Even this screen barely contains him, and the extreme close-up reminds us how utterly unique he was: an imp, a horndog, a goblin, a god, constantly in awe of his own genius, crooning and shrieking in equal measure, serving up demon-slaying guitar solos throughout. And most significantly, he just doesn’t stop. In his later days, Prince’s hips and ankles were ruined, resulting in his dependence on painkillers. Take in Sign O’ The Times, and you can see why. The splits, many of them, followed by him immediately springing back up and spinning, twirling, jumping, leaping, all of it in heels, every move exquisite, barely a sweat-bead on him – or his crew. Prince was the hardiest of workhorses, the hardest of taskmasters, a challenging human-being, sure. But the proof is in the pudding.
It’s a bittersweet experience, too, sitting there in the crowd, in thrall to someone you saw in the flesh in the past, but now with the underlying feeling at the back of your mind that they’re gone, not around to bask in such a resurgence. And not just Prince. Cat Glover, choreographer, rapper, backing singer and, charisma-wise at least his female equal, died a year ago, at 62. Yet she too shines here, another unfathomably energetic force, going at it like nobody ever went at it, more than countering Prince’s relentless testosterone. And on that Saturday night in this cinema, when he introduced her on stage, you could feel the moment hang heavy over the auditorium audience. You could feel it. It’s been said that cinema – as opposed to, say, living, breathing theatre or actual sweaty concerts – is a dead medium. I would vigorously argue against that being the case. Moment by moment, not just due to the film itself, but to fresh context and the passing of the years, this was truly emotional. This film lived. It breathed. Sign O’ The Times, indeed.
So, yes: IMAX sees Prince resurrected. Immortalised. We will never see his like again. Yet here he is, shimmering with life.