The Color Purple: Another Adventure in Sexy Print versus Racy Cinema

I’m soon to see the Broadway production of The Color Purple, an award winning piece of literature, a wonderful movie and what I’m guessing to be an equally good theater production.

However, the relationship between the main female characters, Celie and Shug, is overtly sexual in the book and incredibly understated in the movie. I expect the play will be inspired by the book and will therefore be blatant about their relationship.

Which brings us to another round of: “Which is Sexier: Written Word or Cinematic Imagery?” Unlike the Bridges of Madison County example previously examined in this blog, I don’t have a movie to compare. Still, I believe the experiment is valid. That said, here are excerpts from Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. Let’s see how the on-stage lovers stack up.


I start to cry too. I cry and cry and cry.

Don’t cry, Celie, Shug say. Don’t cry. She start kissing the water as it come down side my face.

My mama die, I tell Shug. My sister Nettie run away. Mr. ___ come git me to take care his rotten children. He never ast me nothing bout myself. He clam on top of me and fuck and fuck, even when my head bandaged. Nobody ever love me, I say.

She say, I love you, Miss Celie. And then she haul off and kiss me on the mouth.

Um, she say, like she surprise. I kiss her back, say um, too. Us kiss and kiss till us can’t hardly kiss no more. Then us touch each other.

I don’t know nothing bout it, I say to Shug.

I don’t know much, she say.

Then I feels something real soft and wet on my breast, feel like one of my little lost babies mouth.

Way after while, I act like a little lost baby too.
....

Grady and Mr. ___ come staggering in round daybreak. Me and Shug sound asleep. Her back to me, my arms round her waist. What it like? Little like sleeping with mama, only can’t hardly remember ever sleeping with her. Little like sleeping with Nettie, only sleeping with Nettie never felt this good. It warm and cushiony, and I feel Shug’s bit tits sorta flop over my arms like suds. It feel like heaven is what it feel like, not like sleeping with Mr. ___ at all.
….

Us sleep like sisters, me and Shug. Much as I still want to be with her, much as I love to look, my titties stay soft, my little button never rise. Now I know I’m dead. But she say, Naw, just being mad, grief, wanting to kill somebody will make you feel this way. Nothing to worry about. Titties gonna perk up, button gonna rise again.

I loves to hug up, period, she say. Snuggle. Don’t need nothing else right now.

Yeah, I say. Hugging is good. All of it’s good.