It’s not particularly innovative at this point to assert that 2016 has been an absolutely hellish fucking bear of a year, with beloved cultural figures dropping on nearly a weekly basis. The cruel punchline, of course, is that none of these deaths ultimately turned out to be the most devastating news story of the year, but that still doesn’t diminish the gut punch that accompanies the loss of a truly top-shelf human. In isolation, the loss of David Bowie or Gene Wilder or Muhammad Ali or Leonard Cohen or Alan Rickman or Sharon Jones or Umberto Eco or Merle Haggard or Phife Dogg or Anton Yelchin or Herschell Gordon Lewis or Edward Albee or John Zacherley or Blowfly would be sad, but together? Oof.
The bright side to any celebrity death, however, is the outpouring of love and critical reappraisal frequently heaped upon the departed. Media outlets in an artist’s given field will re-air or re-release deep cuts, writers will spill gallons of ink (or terabytes of bandwidth) singing praises, sometimes permanently altering a cultural legacy in the process (I can think of a certain pop singer who was a walking punchline at best, and at worst a dangerous predator, on June 24, 2009). Many an artist’s catalog has been voraciously re-devoured in the wake of their passing, either by old diehards looking to reconnect with their favorites, casual fans deciding the time has finally come to pick up a copy of I’m Your Man, or neophytes belatedly discovering a new flavor. In my years working at a used record store, I termed this phenomenon “The Death Train,” and became ruthlessly efficient at engineering it for maximum profit. Generally speaking, the Death Train runs on an engine of knee-jerk nostalgia, but every once in awhile, it presents intriguing possibilities and a cause for genuine excitement.
Such is the case with Prince, the inscrutable midwestern funk god who passed this April at the age of 57. Like most music fans, my initial reaction was shock, sadness, and loss; I’ve written about my affection for the Purple One, both directly and indirectly, in this space before, and unlike many music legends from decades past, Prince was still creating at a furious pace. It didn’t take long, however, for a second realization to dawn on me: as far as Prince material goes, this is only the beginning.
Prince was one of those artists who simply could not stop recording, to the point that his recorded output far outpaced the standard major label releasing schedule of an-album-a-year-or-so. Moreover, he was governed by whims and a fleeting attention span. This is perhaps most eloquently illustrated by filmmaker Kevin Smith, who was once abruptly tapped to helm a documentary about the artist, only to have it just as quickly shelved upon completion. When asked for an explanation, Prince’s manager told him that she had shot dozens of unreleased, full-production music videos, for songs off albums that never saw the light of day (if you have the time, I recommend watching the full anecdote; whatever your opinion of Mr. Smith, it’s a hell of a story). Prince’s vault (which, I only realized after his death, is not a metaphor) has become the stuff of legend, perhaps containing more singles, albums, videos, and feature films– to say nothing of demos, outtakes, and alternate versions of known songs– than the man released in his lifetime. And, now that he’s no longer with us, we’re starting to be able to hear them!
Which brings us to Sign O’ the Times, the feature film version of Prince’s classic 1987 double album of the same name. Unlike much of the Prince material suddenly coming to light, Sign O’ the Times was released, but, whether through legal entanglements, oversaturation among the public, or simple indifference on the part of the Artist (all major factors around this time), it has been unavailable domestically for decades. Unlike Purple Rain (dumb, classic), Under the Cherry Moon (dumber, less classic), or Graffiti Bridge (the less said, the better), Sign O’ the Times mostly eschews narrative in favor of straight concert footage– a canny move, given that the musical performances are the material in Prince’s other films that everyone can agree is pretty great. The Revolution is gone (except for Dr. Fink), but the musicians are top notch, most notably Sheila E. Prince was a few years past his commercial prime, but Sign O’ the Times is quite possibly his best album, and the chance to see live versions of those songs– on the big screen– is a gift.
I suppose this is the point where I should confess that, outside of a clip here and there, I have not actually seen Sign O’ the Times. But in that, I’m probably in the majority (in leaked pages of an unproduced Simpsons script, would-be-guest-star Prince admits to Aunt Selma that he’s never seen it). Prince’s death was a stunning loss to the music world, but the opening of his vault is a gift which could conceivably keep giving for the rest of our natural lives. Now if we could only get the promised second album of Purple Rain-era material… or the Appolonia Six starring vehicle… or the demo version of “Donald Trump (Black Version)”…
http://dai.ly/x33f0g1
Sign O’ The Times
1987
dir. Prince
85 min.
Rare 35mm print!
Screens Friday, 12/9-Sunday, 12/11 @ Brattle Theatre
Friday, 12/9 @ 9:30
Saturday, 12/10 @ 9:30
Sunday, 12/11 @ 9:30
