Risible effort by the Purple One and his coterie at making a sort of biopic. The acting is unbearably rotten and the script provides a groan a minute. The most putrid thing about the entire affair is having to endure his Purpleness batting his eyelashes, blushing and trying to look like God's gift to mankind.

The picturisation of "When Doves Cry" is enough to set the automatic gag responses in motion. All said and done the music itself is quite superb, full of vitality and has a mesmerising effect - the rest of the movie is an embarrassment.

So, enjoy the great music and "live" performances and go make several cups of tea during the wretched "serious acting" part. It was a big success upon release for some inexplicable reason (the music?) - so much so that the Purple One was encouraged to make a couple more movies - both securely in the Hall of Fame for worst ever movies, namely Under Cherry Moon and Graffiti Bridge.

The world has been spared another monstrosity but at the time of writing there was word floating about that he and his wife, Mayte, were about to unleash their interpretation of Kamasutra as a Millennium parting gift. You have been warned.