But the performance of the title track is the film’s ultimate coup. Taking the stage and dedicating the moment to his father following his suicide attempt, the Kid proves to all of the naysayers that his art isn’t “too personal” to be comprehended or accessed by an audience. As Magnoli’s camera tracks over a sea of faces, both futuristically painted and not too unlike own own visages, we become part of the reverential throng. The reverse shot is framed tight on the Kid, singing the final ballad with every ounce of his being. All eyes, including our own, are on him in this moment. Through this final, peculiar performance, he is tearing down barriers not only between himself and the crowd, but his own bandmates (he sets his own lyrics to a tune written by Jill Jones & Dez Dickerson), showing that this God is not only approachable, but welcoming to criticism and collaboration. In the end, the Kid not only transcends his mortal trappings, but shows that we can too through a little self-adjustment. In essence, Purple Rain becomes the ultimate self-help manual; a detailed guide to how embracing our own insecurities can help us achieve heights we never thought possible. We can all become Gods, if we just let go and embrace what also makes us human: the power of pure, unadulterated emotion.