Reviewed by Surya Saraf, a Book Review Editor.

The term “womanist,” as novelist Alice Walker expounds in her novel In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens, is “[a] Black feminist or feminist of color. A woman who loves other women.” This kind of woman  “[l]oves music. Loves dance… Loves Herself. Regardless.” 

This definition epitomizes the recent movie adaptation of The Color Purple, a musical exploration of Black womanhood in rural Georgia society that follows the lives of two sisters from 1909-1947. 

The film — based upon Alice Walker’s eponymous novel — is a portrait of the Black female struggle: its protagonist is Celie, an uneducated Black girl who is sexually abused by her father figure from adolescence, stripped of the two children she bears with him, and forced to marry and reside with a physically abusive spouse for the next few decades. She grapples with God, whom she doubts is on her side, though her loving sister Nettie assures her otherwise. Enchanted by the extravagant blues singer Shug Avery and tortured by the hardships of her upbringing, Celie hopes to reconcile her relationships with God, women, men, and, most importantly, herself.

Unlike Steven Spielberg’s original adaptation, this 2023 rendition, directed by Blitz Bazawule, is a musical, based on the Broadway adaptation. This change holds special significance partly due to the connectivity between music and Black liberation: Walker includes blues, prayer songs, and other forms of musical empowerment in her novel, and the movie brings them to life. The songs in The Color Purple also provide avenues to express characters’ inner dialogue, something movie adaptations often struggle to do; the numbers craft somewhat heterogeneous characters with unique struggles. The delivery is strong, with captivating dancing, picturesque visuals of flowing skirts on vibrant beaches, and remarkable acting by many Broadway stars.

Most notably, Oscar-nominated actress Danielle Brooks, who plays the character Sofia, exhibits the same boundless strength and confidence I pictured when reading the novel for the first time. Like Fantasia Barrino’s depiction of Celie and Colman Domingo’s Albert (“Mister,” Celie’s abusive husband), Brooks artfully switches from jovial self-assuredness to shattering grief — for split seconds, I would forget that the setting was fictitious. The film does justice to the powerful women Walker crafts, and showcases their influence on Celie’s self-perception and worldview.

Nevertheless, as with any movie adaptation — Hollywood or indie — of novels that present complex issues, The Color Purple falls short of a few major book particulars, and leaves behind plot holes only those who read the novel could pick through. Nearly half of the novel is narrated by Nettie, Celie’s sister, as she navigates life abroad in western Africa. These scenes illustrate the stark differences between the sisters’ lives, but also the ways in which they are invariably connected by blood and love. By merely glossing over this component, the film omits analysis of Celie’s and Nettie’s relationship to African history as African American women. Contrary to Walker’s multifaceted character analyses, the film also presents white characters with little humanity.

Regardless, The Color Purple remains steadfast to Walker’s dialogue, and I have no complaints regarding the phenomenal soundtrack that tastefully includes the Broadway song “The Color Purple.” The pièce de resistance was the inclusion of a variation on Walker’s empowering line: “I may be black. I may be poor, I may even be ugly, but I’m here. I’m here!”