by Donald Bogle
Relaxed on his visit to the On Golden Pond shoot, he stayed with Fonda in her cabin for ten days. Fonda recalled that the two even went skinny-dipping together. And they spent time talking into the night “about acting, life, everything. Africa. Issues. We talked and talked and talked.” By then Michael had read more and was eager to learn more about the world. Fonda believed his intelligence was “instinctual and emotional, like a child’s. If any artist loses that childlikeness, you lose a lot of creative juice.” From her perspective, Michael created a world around himself to protect his creativity.
Maybe some of these women brought to Michael’s mind his gentle tutor, Rose Fine, who had opened the door to a world of knowledge.
It was also as if meeting some of these women was a prelude to Elizabeth.
• • •
Three years after Off the Wall, Michael and Quincy Jones worked together again on the album Thriller.
From the beginning, Michael wanted Thriller to be a big album, bigger than Off the Wall. Already trying to top his own record, he also remained resentful that Off the Wall had not won him the major awards that he knew he deserved. With focus and a rush of energy, plus some adrenaline-fed nervous tension, he embarked on his collaboration with Jones. Recording began on April 14, 1982, at noon at the Westlake Recording Studios in Los Angeles. The budget for the album was $750,000. Once again Michael and Jones gathered an expert creative team of writers and musicians. Originally, thirty songs were recorded. But only nine would meet the rigorous standards of both Jackson and Jones and thus be included on the album.
Four of the songs on the final album were written by Michael: “Beat It,” “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” “Billie Jean,” and “The Girl Is Mine.” Rumors would long persist that “Billie Jean” grew out of Michael’s experiences with a crazed fan who believed he was the father of her child. But that was denied by Michael. “There was never a real ‘Billie Jean,’ ” he said. “The girl in the song is a composite of people we’ve been plagued by over the years. This kind of thing has happened to some of my brothers and I used to be really amazed by it.” For Michael, these obsessed women were deadly serious, and “Billie Jean” was a way of coping with such situations and also releasing himself of certain tensions. “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ ” expressed his feelings about the contentious wife—ever ready to create a scene—of one of his brothers.
As was his fundamental technique for creating his music, Michael—who could neither read nor write music—would first work out a song in his head, then after it had taken shape sing it into a tape recorder, working it over until the number was right. He also enlisted the help of other family members to do demos of the songs. On “Beat It,” Janet performed backup. He used the demos to fine-tune his work and make important changes and additions to the sound. He once described his process “as a gestation, almost like a pregnancy or something. It’s an explosion of something so beautiful, you go, Wow!” He also said: “The lyrics, the strings, the chords, everything comes at the moment like a gift that is put right into your head and that’s how I hear it.” Afterward, during the actual recording, he performed from memory.
The first track to be recorded was Michael’s duet with Paul McCartney on “The Girl Is Mine.” For Michael, it was always exciting to work with McCartney.
Again there was music by Rod Temperton—not only the title song (which he originally called “Starlight” or “Midnight Man”) but also “Baby Be Mine” and “The Lady in My Life.” Some might view “Thriller” as something of a novelty song, a spooky, scary and maybe even sometimes corny number that opens with the sounds of a creaking door and floorboards, with thunder and wind sounds, and a howling dog. It also had a voiceover by Vincent Price, the star of sweet, dopey B-horror movies. Rod Temperton recalled that during his cab ride to the studio to do the actual recording of “Thriller,” he wrote Price’s spoken introduction to the song. Whether corny or scary or not, all the elements came together perfectly. What would make “Thriller” a monumental song would be the video for it.
The other two songs were “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing),” written by James Ingram and Quincy Jones, and “Human Nature,” written by Steve Porcaro and John Bettis. Among the musicians were jazz saxophonist Tom Scott, who played the lyricon on “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” bassist Louis Johnson on “Billie Jean,” and on “Beat It,” master guitarist Eddie Van Halen performing the guitar solo.
Creative differences surfaced between Michael and Jones. The two reportedly disagreed on the introduction to “Billie Jean,” which Jones thought was too long. But Michael wanted it in because he said it made him want to dance. At one point the song was to be called “Not My Lover” because Jones thought the Billie Jean title might make people think of tennis star Billie Jean King. Obviously Jones decided to stick with the original title. But a story that Jones initially did not want “Billie Jean” on the album was emphatically denied by Jones. “And this whole fallacy of me not liking ‘Billie Jean’ is a lie,” he said. “It is some lie that started somewhere. Anybody can hear that record’s a smash. And also I know where it came from.”
Jones, however, felt that a song by Michael and Greg Phillinganes called “P.Y.T.” didn’t work. But he liked the title. In the end, the song itself was dumped but the title was used for the song that James Ingram and Jones wrote. When the final nine songs were completed, neither Jones nor Michael was satisfied. The music wasn’t jelling the way they wanted. A week each was spent remixing each of the nine songs. After almost seven months, Thriller was completed on November 8, 1982. Epic Records released it on November 30, 1982. Ultimately, Thriller presented yet another portrait of a mature, romantic Michael Jackson. It would also delve into “darker,” sometimes disturbing themes of paranoia, fear, and violence.
The accolades poured in. Some perceptive critics now saw Michael’s impact on American culture tied in with attitudes on race. “Thriller is a wonderful pop record, the latest statement by one of the great singers in popular music today. But it is more than that. It is as hopeful a sign as we have had yet that the destructive barriers that spring up regularly between white and black music—and between whites and blacks—in this culture may be breached once again,” wrote John Rockwell in the New York Times. Rockwell also wrote of Jackson’s “ethereal tenor”—and its historical significance. “His deployment of that voice, which he mixes subtly with all manner of falsetto effects, is the greatest example of this sort of erotic keening since the heyday of Smokey Robinson. Ever since the craze for the castrato in the 17th century, high male voices, with their paradoxical blend of asexuality and sensuousness, ecstasy and pain, have been the most prized of all vocal types, and Mr. Jackson epitomizes such singing for our time better than anyone, in any musical genre.”
But Rockwell also saw the broader cultural significance of the album—and Michael. “Black music lurks at the heart of nearly all American pop, but it is an old, old story that blacks tend to be slighted by white audiences, a few established older superstars partly excepted. Black performers’ mass success waxes and wanes, and in recent years it has been waning. The dangers of isolation—more particularly, of whites being cut off from the roots of what they perceive as their own music—have only been reinforced by radio, with its ‘demographics’ playlists that reinforce a musically insensitive and morally indefensible segregation.”
Rockwell also addressed those critics who professed that Michael was not black—and those who would have preferred that he not be. At the same time, there was the idea that Michael really neither could nor should be classified as a black artist. He had supposedly “transcended” race. Of course, no white artist was ever required to “transcend” his or her race. Rockwell took note of this fallacy. “Mr. Jackson’s appeal is so wide, however, that white publications and radio stations that normally avoid ‘black music’ seem willing to pretend he isn’t black after all. On one level, that’s admirable, in that color distinctions are often best avoided alt
ogether. But Mr. Jackson is black . . . he still works honorably within the context of contemporary black popular music at its fervent, eclectic best. If this album is anywhere near as successful as Off the Wall, it may remind white audiences of what they are missing elsewhere.”
History would be made, of course. Thriller was a smash hit, rapidly selling at that time some twenty-seven million copies and proving to be the biggest-grossing album of all time. But what added to the album’s appeal and boosted sales were the videos made from the singles “Beat It” and “Billie Jean.” Here Michael’s brilliance as a dancer was put on dazzling display, under the guiding light of choreographer Michael Peters. Michael also enjoyed making the videos because here was his chance at another stab at a movie career. Steven Spielberg had talked of starring him in a movie version of Peter Pan. But nothing would come of that. For Michael, the idea was that maybe his performances in his videos might make Hollywood see his potential as a leading man.
But ironically what added to the album’s status as a classic was the video that followed of its title song. No video before or after had the force or power of the video for “Thriller.” It was a sign of Michael’s artistic and marketing skills that he got it made. Initially, there had been no plans to even release it as a single. Nor did CBS Records president Walter Yetnikoff, as well as Michael’s close adviser and lawyer John Branca envision a video of the song, according to writer Nancy Griffin. But Michael believed a new video would help maintain the album’s sales. At one point, Epic’s head of promotions, Frank DiLeo, liked the idea of a third video from the album, and a video of “Thriller” seemed the right choice.
Michael then moved forward with plans. Having seen director John Landis’s film An American Werewolf in London, Michael invited Landis to Hayvenhurst to discuss a video of the song. Landis wanted to do it as a short thirty-five-millimeter film. After a concept had been worked out, the budget would be $900,000. CBS’s Yetnikoff was not excited about a new video. Michael decided to put up his own money. Eventually, Yetnikoff forked over $100,000.
Landis’s script for “Thriller” was about a guy on a date with his girl at a movie theater. They watch a horror film, then things really turn scary as he is transformed before his terrified date’s eyes into a ghoul with a werewolf face with a beard, fangs, and monstrous bulging eyes. Part of the video was filmed at Los Angeles’s Palace Theatre. Part was filmed on the streets of downtown LA. A group of top-notch talents was enlisted for the production. Oscar-winning makeup wizard Rick Baker created the astonishing transformation for Michael. Robert Paynter was hired as the cinematographer. Michael Peters worked again with Michael on the choreography. Landis’s wife, designer Deborah Nadoolman Landis, did the costumes. Cast as Jackson’s girlfriend was pixieish Ola Ray, a twenty-three-year-old former Playboy Playmate, who was clearly fascinated by him. “Michael is very special,” she said at the time. “Since we’ve been working together we’ve been getting closer. He was a very shy person, but he’s opened up. I think he’s lived a sheltered life. He knows a lot of entertainers, but he needs friends that he can go out and relax and enjoy himself with.”
Ray proved to be the right “girl” for the video. Hers was a “kittenish” sexuality. The girl in the video couldn’t come on too strong. She had to seem as innocent as Michael. Yet she was sensual, to the point where audiences would be waiting for the two to hook up. Because of his Jehovah’s Witness background, which forbade premarital sex, Michael shied away from conversations about sex. As much as he could, he probably also shied away from thoughts about sex. But such thoughts were definitely there. When shooting the sequence at the Palace Theatre where Michael and Ray walk outside the movie house, Landis wanted another take. Something had not jelled between Michael and Ray, namely Michael’s ardor for the girl. “Make it sexy this time,” Landis recalled telling Michael, who then asked: “How?” Landis told him: “You know, as if you want to fuck her.” Michael clearly did not feel comfortable hearing that! According to Nancy Griffin, Landis also said that at one point Michael confessed he was a virgin. But when Landis reshot the sequence, there was a sexy Michael! Ray herself was so captivated by him that indeed the two on-screen were a couple as they glanced into each other’s eyes and endearingly smiled to one another. A big moment in the Thriller video—before Michael’s transformation—occurred when he tells Ray: “I’m not like other guys.” Here the lines between Michael on-screen and off- were clearly blurred, much to the enjoyment of his audience. Will there be a big confession or announcement? Of course, it turns out he’s not like other guys because he’s a ghoul, a zombie.
The most memorable sequence is the dance of the zombies that concludes the video. Accompanied by some twenty dancers, all in ghoulish makeup and costumes, Michael himself was made-up to look gaunt and ghostly. Dressed in that red jacket, he moves to the beat of the music—and to the beat of his own dancing style: smooth, precise with unexpected stylized twists and turns. Indeed he seems splendidly otherworldly.
During filming, guests showed up to witness Michael in action, according to Griffin. Eyes were glued to the white limousine that pulled up with its passenger, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Having flown in from New York, she was then an editor at Doubleday and Company and had come to discuss publishing Michael’s memoirs—which would become Moonwalk. Arriving at other times were Michael’s parents, Katherine and Joe; Rock Hudson; Quincy Jones; and Fred Astaire. Marlon Brando also appeared on set. Everyone had the feeling they were witnessing something extraordinary in the making. Yet no one could have predicted just how extraordinary.
Interestingly enough, MTV, then a station devoted to airing videos, had not shown interest in the work of African American artists. In fact, MTV was considered downright hostile to black music. Finally, Yetnikoff at CBS had to threaten to pull all of CBS’s other videos if MTV did not air Michael’s. As it turned out, Michael’s were among the most popular on the station. Also filmed was the documentary Making Michael Jackson’s Thriller, which was shown on MTV. Videocassettes of the documentary then sold on the new home video market.
• • •
The video for “Thriller,” however, caused problems for Michael with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. According to Jermaine, the group viewed the video as “evil and satanic,” because it was thought to celebrate the “occult and the unseen world.” Two Jehovah’s Witnesses had been on the set during the filming. At one point, Michael wanted to have the negative of the video destroyed because of his concern about the Witnesses’ reaction. Thus there was a disclaimer by Michael at the start of the video: “Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses a belief in the occult.” Director John Landis had written it.
This became a difficult time for Michael with the group. When his schedule permitted, he still attended Kingdom Hall about four times a week with his mother. He also donned disguises as he went door to door selling Jehovah’s Witnesses publications. While on tour, a male and female Witness were sometimes by his side. No one could say he wasn’t a dedicated Witness. But in time—around 1987—he would leave the organization because it inhibited him artistically. It was not an easy decision—for him or Katherine. But Katherine supported him.
• • •
Although record buyers were ready to fall at Michael’s feet following the release of both Off the Wall and Thriller, perhaps the precise moment that his megastardom was cemented and certified in the mind of the vast public at large came with his appearance on the television special Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever. It was an appearance that almost didn’t happen and ultimately revealed his tough-minded refusal to give up on his convictions pertaining to all things related to his career and image.
A television special that celebrated Motown Records’ quarter-century anniversary, Motown 25 gathered the company’s great stars to perform their big hits: Mary Wells, the Marvelettes, Martha and the Vandellas, the Temptations, the Four Tops, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Junior Walker, an
d Diana Ross and the Supremes. For Motown, this was a tricky situation because of the resentment that many of its performers still harbored about their treatment by the company, specifically by Gordy. Motown had already been faced with lawsuits from performers, including, of course, the Jackson 5. Embittered performers struggled with the decision as to whether they would appear. Especially wounded was Marvin Gaye. He had a bitter divorce from Gordy’s sister Anna Gordy, and he accused Motown of having remixed his personal 1981 album In Our Lifetime without his consent and rush-releasing it. But he eventually signed on for the show. Gladys Knight and the Pips, however, chose not to participate. Clearly, Motown wanted the Jackson 5, considered by many to be the company’s last great act.
While the brothers agreed to perform, along with Jermaine, Michael held off. There was much discussion and debate among Michael and his managers Ron Weisner and Freddy DeMann. Michael’s position was that he didn’t want to do television. Perhaps true. But everyone knew that Motown wanted only Motown hits. Michael, however, wanted to perform one of his recent big hits released by Epic. He wasn’t going to budge in what would amount to another confrontation with Gordy, the man he, in other respects, still idolized. No one could persuade him to do otherwise. Everyone knew Michael was currently the biggest name in popular music. With plans for the show to be taped in April but still without Michael on board, Gordy met with Michael—ironically—at a Motown studio where Michael was editing the mix for “Billie Jean.” The two talked at length. By the end of their impromptu meeting, Gordy agreed to let Michael perform “Billie Jean.” His Motown compatriots must have delighted at his demands—and his standoff. Michael would perform first with his brothers and then—on his own—do “Billie Jean.” It became one of the most memorable moments in television history of the twentieth century, as Michael, once his brothers had left the stage, told the audience how much he liked the old songs. But he liked the new ones, too. A black fedora was passed to him, and wearing a spangly black jacket (that was actually his mother’s) and one sequined white glove, designed by Bill Whitten and destined to become a signature piece, he gave a mesmerizing performance of “Billie Jean.” It wasn’t just Michael in song that magnetized the audience; it was Michael performing his soon-to-be-signature dance, the moonwalk, giving the illusion that he was walking without doing so at all, a both eerie and hauntingly beautiful, magical series of movements. Earlier, with the Jacksons’ hit “Dancing Machine” in 1974, Michael had perfected a dance called the robot—stiff rhythmically robotic movements—that became a craze. Now having studied the gliding style and intricate routines of street dancers, he had taken all he had seen to a new artistic height, a new state of grace. Perfectionist that he was, he had choreographed the number. The night before the show, he rehearsed, meticulously reworking his movements, in the kitchen of the home at Hayvenhurst. During the show itself, he made it work splendidly for the space of the stage. He also had decided on the camera work and the lighting.