More Like a Movie Scene, part 1

Willa: A few weeks ago, Raven Woods joined me for a wonderful discussion of Michael Jackson’s concert performances of “Billie Jean.”  This week I am very excited to be joined by Nina Fonoroff to talk about the short film, Billie Jean, and about Michael Jackson’s use of film noir. Nina is an associate professor in cinematic arts, an independent filmmaker, and an artist who has drawn inspiration from Michael Jackson – for example, in a series of collages she created of him. And in the course of gathering material for her collages, she has collected more than 35,000 images of him. Wow! Thank you so much for joining me, Nina.

Nina:  Thanks, Willa! I look forward to exploring the “anatomy” of Billie Jean!

Willa:  Oh, so do I! I’ve been wanting to take an in-depth look at Billie Jean for almost four years now, but I’ve felt kind of intimidated by it. So I really appreciate your leading the way.

So today we’re planning to talk about Billie Jean specifically, and Michael Jackson’s use of film noir more generally in a number of his films, and it seems like we should begin by defining what exactly “film noir” means. But to be honest, I’m a little fuzzy about that. What makes a piece film noir? Is it the characters (a hard-boiled detective, a seductress, a criminal mastermind like Mr. Big in Moonwalker) or the setting (gritty, urban, 1940s or 50s) or the way it’s filmed (beautifully framed black-and-white scenes with lots of shadows). Or is it something else – a mood or a feeling?

Nina: Great questions, Willa. Film scholars have never been able to determine whether to call  “film noir” a style, a movement, or a genre. Billie Jean uses many elements we find in typical noir films, though there are also some distinct ways it departs from them.

In noir films, there’s often (though not always) a femme fatale who leads a man into a life of crime, or some situation that is morally compromised. So there’s the criminal ne’er-do-well, and often a detective, who we usually see wearing a trench coat and fedora hat. This detective is often the film’s protagonist, or main character – we identify with him, and typically learn everything through his point of view. (In some films, like Double Indemnity (1944), we hear the story told as a flashback, from the point of view of the man who committed the crime and who is about to die.) Some classic “noir” films were adapted from crime novels written by figures  like Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammet, and James M. Cain. In period slang, the detective is sometimes known as a “private dick” or “shamus” – in other words, a private investigator, as distinct from a detective who is employed by the regular police force.

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Willa: And we see this kind of character in Billie Jean – the private investigator or reporter who’s trailing Michael Jackson’s character. We also see a variant of this character in You Rock My World and especially Smooth Criminal, right? Michael, the main character in Smooth Criminal, isn’t a private eye, but he’s an updated version of Rod Riley, Fred Astaire’s character in “Girl Hunt Ballet” from The Band Wagon, and Rod Riley is. And Michael is certainly dressed the part, especially the fedora pulled down low over his eyes.

Nina: Yes, that’s exactly the type, and Michael was very conscious of the style. Spats, an elegant suit, a fedora. Then we have dark, deserted streets within a sinister-looking city; and parts of the story are often conveyed through voice-over narration. Usually it’s the voice of the detective we hear, a device that allows us to form a strong bond of identification with him, his observations, his experiences and – most importantly – the knowledge he acquires about the case he’s working on. We know that we can count on him to eventually crack the case and “spill the beans.”

Willa: Oh that’s interesting, Nina. And we see those “dark, deserted streets” you mentioned in a number of Michael Jackson’s videos: Billie Jean, Beat It, Thriller, Bad, The Way You Make Me Feel, Dirty Diana, Smooth Criminal, Jam, Give In to Me, Who Is It, Stranger in Moscow, and You Rock My World, as well as the panther dance portion of Black or White.

We certainly see it in “Girl Hunt Ballet” also, along with the use of voiceover, as you mentioned. Here’s a video clip, and it begins with Fred Astaire’s character walking those “dark, deserted streets” and talking to us in voiceover, as you just described. As he says, “The city was asleep. The joints were closed. The rats and the hoods and the killers were in their holes.”

It’s really fun to watch that clip and look for all the ways Michael Jackson borrowed from it or modified elements of it when creating Smooth Criminal. For example, some of the costumes are a direct match, like his white suit and fedora with the blue shirt and socks, or the woman in the red dress with black gloves up past her elbows.

Nina: Fred Astaire’s performance here riffs on the classic film noir hero (or antihero), especially in the tone he adopts to tell his story. There’s a heightened sense of drama when he recounts his woes – the tale of a romantic/sexual exploit turned bad. The way he delivers his interior monologue evokes an urbane male persona, whose suaveness and sophistication are no match for the “dame” who took him unawares or “done him wrong.”

We can also hear this character in Michael Jackson’s spoken introduction to “Dangerous,” some of whose lines come directly from the Rod Riley character in “Girl Hunt Ballet.” Here’s Michael Jackson’s performance of “Dangerous” at the 1995 MTV Awards:

The way she came into the place
I knew then and there
There was something different about this girl.
The way she moved. Her hair, her face.
Her lines, divinity in motion.

As she stalked the room
I could feel the aura
Of her presence
Every head turned
Feeling passion and lust

The girl was persuasive
The girl I could not trust
The girl was bad
The girl was dangerous

She came at me in sections
With the eyes of desire
I fell trapped into her
Web of sin
A touch, a kiss
A whisper of love
I was at the point
Of no return

Willa: I love that performance of “Dangerous”! And you’re right, some of these lyrics are a direct quotation from “Girl Hunt Ballet,” as you say – specifically the lines, “She came at me in sections … She was bad / She was dangerous.” And the overall feel of these lines is very “noirish.” I can easily imagine a character from one of those 1940s crime novels – or the films based on them – saying just these words.

So what other elements mark a film as noir?

Nina: They often have complicated plot twists, including flashbacks (sometimes multiple ones) or other scenes that reveal the characters’ dark pasts. And because the genre matured in Hollywood in the 1940s and 1950s, when black-and-white film stocks were more commonly used, we often associate these movies with a high-contrast black-and-white look that feels atmospherically menacing, with deep shadows and their connotations of secrecy, danger, paranoia, despair. The lighting effects are often described by a lovely Italian word, chiaroscuro, which means high contrasts of dark and light. The term originated in painting, and was then applied to photography and film.

Willa: And Michael Jackson occasionally filmed his videos using high-contrast black and white, like in Stranger in Moscow or parts of Billie Jean, Bad, Black or White, and Ghosts. Or he would use color film but with a very muted palette and strong contrasts between areas of light and dark, so it resembles black-and-white film. I’m thinking of moments like the dance in the basement in You Rock My World, which is almost like a series of sepia-toned photographs.

Nina: That’s true, especially for You Rock My World, which depicts a noirish environment in color – but it’s a limited color palette, as you say.

Films noir also tend to elicit a set of emotional responses from the audience, leading us on a journey of suspense, sometimes infused with anxiety for the character or the outcome of the story. The narrative unfolds so that by the end of the movie, the resolution of a puzzle or mystery – usually a violent crime – is revealed to the audience from the detective’s point of view (though, as I pointed out in the case of Double Indemnity, sometimes another character “narrates”). Through a bleak and often cynical depiction of right and wrong, these films communicate a set of social values: we are meant to ponder, even if unconsciously, what it might mean to be trustworthy or duplicitous, or to be an “outsider” looking in – as both the detective and the criminal he follows often are.

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

In their obsessive intelligence, exposure to danger, risk-taking, and seemingly cold-blooded approach to human relationships, these men (the detectives, and often the women they associate with) represent social deviance – they conduct their lives, as loners, in a way that’s different from the mainstream of society.  They’ve either rejected or else haven’t found access to the ordinary pleasures of domesticity, marriage, family life, home and hearth. So both the criminal, and the detective who pursues him, are figures who stand apart from ordinary people, who are safely ensconced in the trappings of middle-class existence and normative social values. They are exceptional, and often deeply ambivalent characters.

According to Tim Dirks, who writes for AMC Filmsite:

Heroes (or anti-heroes), corrupt characters and villains included down-and-out, conflicted hard-boiled detectives or private eyes, cops, gangsters, government agents, a lone wolf, sociopaths or killers, crooks, war veterans, politicians, petty criminals murderers, or just plain Joes. These protagonists were often morally ambiguous lowlifes from the dark and gloomy underworld of violent crime and corruption. Distinctively, they were cynical, tarnished, obsessive (sexual and otherwise), brooding, menacing, sinister, sardonic, disillusioned, frightened and insecure loners (usually men), struggling to survive – and in the end, ultimately losing. Amnesia suffered by the protagonist was a common plot device, as was the downfall of an innocent Everyman who fell victim to temptation or was framed…. The protagonists in film noir were normally driven by their past or by human weakness to repeat former mistakes.

Willa: That’s really interesting, Nina. It seems to me that Michael Jackson drew on elements of noir when creating his characters, but with important differences. His characters are often outsiders who “stand apart from ordinary people,” as you say – characters who “haven’t found access to the ordinary pleasures of domesticity.” We see that repeatedly in his films. But they are not “cynical, tarnished, obsessive (sexual and otherwise), brooding, menacing, sinister, sardonic, disillusioned, frightened and insecure loners,” in Dirks’ words. Not at all. In fact, often his characters are alone for the opposite reason – because they are innocent in a corrupt world. I’m thinking specifically of Billie Jean, Stranger in Moscow, and Ghosts, but there are other examples as well.

Nina: Interestingly, Willa, sometimes a noir (or “noirish”)  film can feature a man who is wrongly accused. As Dirk states, he may be “an innocent Everyman who fell victim to temptation or was framed.” Of course, this totally resonates with the story of Billie Jean.

Gilda (Charles Vidor, 1946)

Gilda (Charles Vidor, 1946)

Willa: It really does. So Nina, this thematic approach to film noir helps explain some of the confusion I’ve been feeling. For example, Stranger in Moscow is beautifully shot in black and white, and it’s in an urban setting, and when I watch it a lot of the individual frames look like film noir to me. But the overall feeling of the film as a whole is very different from film noir and I wouldn’t label it that way.

On the other hand, Billie Jean and Smooth Criminal were filmed primarily in color, though muted color, and when I watch them carefully – as I did while preparing for this post – a lot of the shots don’t really look like film noir to me. Less than Stranger in Moscow, actually. But the overall feeling of these two is very much film noir, I think.

Maybe some of this has to do with the “notions of social value” you were just talking about. In all three of these films – Billie Jean, Smooth Criminal, and Stranger in Moscow – Michael Jackson’s character is an “outsider,” and there’s a sense that the world is a pretty threatening place for him. So maybe that’s the undefinable thing that makes Stranger in Moscow feel kind of “noirish” to me.

Nina: Although there are a couple of shots in Stranger in Moscow that I think look distinctly noirish, I’d say that the film as a whole lacks the necessary elements of danger, criminality, violence, and pursuit. In a noir film, we expect to meet characters whose actions fall outside of the boundaries of lawful behavior, or at least outside the confines of “acceptable” social norms. Also, most (though not all) noir films feature nighttime shots of the city – and a good deal of the action takes place at night. So I’d say You Rock My World, or Who Is It, or even Dirty Diana (of all things!) have more in common with noir films than Stranger in Moscow does.

Willa: Really? Dirty Diana?! Wow. But I see what you mean about Stranger in Moscow. There is something threatening about it, but that comes primarily from the lyrics (“We’re talking danger, baby”) and from our own knowledge of the backstory behind the film – of what the Santa Barbara police were putting him through at the time. But the mood of the film itself isn’t really threatening. It’s more a feeling of hurt and sorrow, I think.

Nina: Yes, hurt and sorrow, as well as loneliness and a burdensome alienation, are the feelings that come through most strongly for me in that film, Willa.

In general, the solution to the central question (or mystery) within a noir film occurs when the detective apprehends the criminal and hands him/her over to the police. But these films also convey something we might consider a more ideological “message”: in a word, a morality tale. (Here, we might think of the expression “crime doesn’t pay.”) This kind of messaging partly came about because of the Hollywood Production Code, in force during the 1940s and 1950s, which stipulated that films couldn’t allow a character to get away with criminal behavior. They had to be punished, either by death or through the strong arm of the law. A character who has committed a crime must never be allowed to get away with it, according to the Production Code.

Willa: Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s interesting, Nina. I’d noticed that many of those films ended with the bad guys getting their just desserts, but I thought that simply reflected the mood of the country back then. I didn’t realize it was a legal requirement.

Nina: It’s interesting how much of Hollywood cinema was governed by organizations that stipulated various projects’ adherence to “community standards,” first through the Code, and later through the ratings system that replaced it.

So many noir films convey a story about the way characters struggle with both internal and external forces to maintain their moral integrity in a fundamentally corrupt world. This is especially the case with the detective, a complex character who himself often gives way to sordid temptations. Going even further, some analysts have seen the style/genre as it evolved in the years after World War II as a critique of postwar American society: the “dark underbelly” of the culture that lies just underneath the glittering surface of optimism and prosperity. A lot of these themes touch upon ideas about the “unconscious” that were elaborated by Sigmund Freud: in particular, the “return of the repressed.” When an individual stuffs or represses an unpleasant memory today, that memory will inevitably re-emerge in a variety of morbid psychological symptoms tomorrow. The past comes back to haunt the character.

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

Willa:  Oh, that’s interesting. I wonder if that’s one reason these films were so popular back then, and why they’re still seen as classics today – because they convey a kind of psychological truth.

So, Nina, this is all much more complicated than I realized. I’m starting to understand now why it can be so difficult to classify specific films, or even specific elements of films, as noir. We can look at how the film was constructed – the characters, plot, setting, cinematography – which is all I was thinking about when we started talking. But now I’m beginning to see that there’s also a whole other element of noir, which focuses more on how it resonates with an audience and how they interpret it.

I wonder if that’s why, for me, Stranger in Moscow kind of fits the noir label and kind of doesn’t. Except for the black-and-white format, it doesn’t meet the criteria for how film noir is typically constructed. But it definitely leads us as an audience to think about “how difficult it is for individuals to maintain moral integrity in a fundamentally corrupt world,” as you said. Or rather, it asks us to consider “how does it feel” to be alone and adrift in a corrupt world.

Nina:  That may be another example, Willa. It can be difficult, though, to detect how these larger meanings might come to fruition in short films like the ones Michael Jackson made. We could more easily discern these patterns in a feature-length film that follows a more traditional narrative scheme. Michael’s short films are sometimes stories in miniature: they have characters, action, and sometimes dialogue, spoken and/or sung. Yet their brevity, as well as the way they’re structured to include singing and dancing, makes the fully developed characters and complex plot development of the feature film impossible to render.

Willa: Well, it’s true that his short films don’t have the complex plots or fully developed characters you see in feature-length films. There simply isn’t the time in five or six or even 11 minutes to convey all the plot twists, for example, that you might see in a two-hour film. But it does seem to me that Michael Jackson explores some pretty complicated ideas in his short films, and in innovative ways that are difficult to describe.

Nina:  You’re right there, Willa: his films do explore complicated ideas, as well as complicated emotions. They may leave us with feelings that aren’t easily resolved, because they engage our sensibilities in ways that are very different from, say, the traditional feature-length noir film, where we come out of the experience with a satisfying sense of narrative “closure” – the detective has solved his case, and so, by proxy, have we. By contrast, Michael’s short films often don’t provide that kind of closure. Billie Jean, for example, does not – nor do the other films we’ve mentioned.

Willa:  I see what you’re saying, Nina, though in Billie Jean, Michael Jackson’s character has evaded the private eye who’s been stalking him – in a trenchcoat, no less! – and even turned the tables, so the one trying to “capture” him on film has literally been “captured” by the police. The last we see of the detective, the police are taking him into custody, and Michael Jackson’s character escapes. So the problem has been solved, and in that sense it does have a degree of closure.

Nina: Yes, that’s a great point, Willa. There’s a role-reversal between the detective and Michael’s character, which I believe has implications that go beyond the film itself – about which I’ll say more presently.

Willa:  Sounds intriguing! So earlier you mentioned Dirty Diana and Who Is It. I don’t think I ever would have considered Dirty Diana as film noir! Or Who Is It either, though it leans more that way. That’s interesting. I’m going to have to think about that … There’s also something very noirish about the panther dance at the end of Black or White. The setting, for one thing – those gritty city streets – but more than that, the feeling of social alienation and being an “outsider,” as you mentioned before.

Nina: Well, in true postmodern fashion, Michael Jackson and his collaborators have taken a bricolage of stylistic elements, and “pastiched” them into tableaux and stories that resemble, on some level, existing cinematic genres; but they don’t function in the same ways that those feature-length cinematic works do. Still, we can explore how the detective, the hero/protagonist (but which one?), the femme fatale, and the unsettling urban atmosphere do function in Billie Jean.

Willa: Yes, I’d love to do that! So where would you like to start? At the beginning of the film and work through it chronologically?

Nina: Yes. The film starts out with a series of black-and-white shots, in closeup. The choice of black-and-white film here may have even been a self-conscious gesture, a sort of homage to noir aesthetics. We see a brick wall, a gloved hand against the wall, a man’s trouser leg and feet walking, a garbage can overflowing with papers and debris, a cat running, a man taking a drag off a cigarette, another shot of his wing-tip shoes stomping out the cigarette, and – a motif that recurs in several of Michael’s short films – a spinning coin.

What’s noteworthy here is that these are all fairly close-up shots; we don’t get a view of the whole space right away, but instead brief, almost abstract glimpses of things that foreshadow some of the motifs that will follow. They set up an atmosphere, and provide the allure of mystery and suspense – especially in conjunction with that unmistakable bass line that starts the song!

Willa: Yes, they really do. We, as an audience, are given a series of images that we try to fit together into something meaningful. It’s like we’re trying to piece the story together, just like the detective is doing. So in a way, even though we sympathize with Michael Jackson’s character, we’re also kind of aligned with the detective character. Like him, we’re watching in a kind of voyeuristic way, and maybe intruding into Michael Jackson’s life in ways that are uncomfortable for him.

And the fact that Billie Jean begins in black and white and then switches to color reminds me of Ghosts, another film about people invading his privacy and intruding into his life. In Ghosts, the initial scenes are all black and white, and then it switches to muted color when we enter the space of the Maestro – the space where he conducts his magic. Something kind of similar happens in Bad as well. The entire film is shot in black and white, except for the scenes in the subway station that are playing out in his imagination. So for Michael Jackson, black and white seems to represent “real life,” and color represents the world of magic, or his imagination. Kind of like The Wizard of Oz, where the Kansas scenes are all black and white, as compared to the full-color scenes in the land of Oz – or rather, the land of Dorothy’s imagination.

And of course, that holds true for Billie Jean as well: a lot of magic happens in the color scenes in Billie Jean

Nina: That’s interesting, Willa – there does seem to be a pattern. And yet, the fictional space of the black-and-white scenes function differently in each film, I find. In Ghosts, for example, the trope of the townspeople and their Mayor, carrying torches, encountering a raven on a dilapidated signpost, descending on the “haunted house” that’s inhabited by a (possibly dangerous) madman seems to be more directly lifted from certain Gothic/horror B-movies from the 1950s.

Willa: Oh, I see. So more like The Revenge of Frankenstein than a noir film with Bogart and Becall.

Nina: In Billie Jean, I suspect the choice of using black-and-white film stock (a choice that was probably made by the director, Steve Barron, or another member of the crew) seems more haphazard. Another thing that’s noteworthy here: the entire image is framed by a white line, a frame-within-a frame. Why did they choose to do that? I can’t venture to say! Maybe we should ask Steve Barron….

Willa: I’m intrigued by that “frame-within-a-frame” also – it reminds me of photographs. They’re all presented as rectangles, proportioned like photographs and surrounded by a thin white line against a black background, as you say. They almost seem like shots you’d see in a police folder about a crime scene, or in a detective’s folder about the suspect he’s investigating. That resonates in an ironic way with the scenes later on where the detective keeps trying to take a picture of Michael Jackson’s character, and not succeeding.

Nina: Yes, it invokes an idea about a succession of still photographs. And this white outline will soon return, to be used in what seems a more purposeful way – breaking up the image into diptychs and triptychs – later on, when we see Michael dancing and singing “Billie Jean.”

In any case, we’re seeing the initial black-and-white images and at the same time hearing the intro to “Billie Jean,” with its unmistakable, insistent bass line and percussion. Then the synth comes in as an additional sound layer, playing those four syncopated notes that we recognize so clearly. As soon as Michael’s feet enter the picture, the film switches to color. We see a contrasting pair of two-tone wing-tip shoes. The familiar bass line comes in, and as we see Michael’s feet lighting up each square of the pavement, each of his footfalls is timed precisely with the rhythm of the music. A closeup of his hand: he throws the coin up and catches it, a perfect gesture of nonchalance that fits in with his character.

Willa: You’re right, Nina! I hadn’t noticed that before, but you’re right – it’s when he enters the picture that the film shifts to color. That seems significant … like when he appears, magic is about to happen. And it does. The concrete pavement squares glowing under his feet are an early indication of the magic he possesses. Maybe that’s why this reminds me of Ghosts

Nina: Yes, that’s true, Willa! A bit about the mise-en-scène as a whole. (Mise-en-scène is a French term that means “putting in the scene”; it refers to everything that we can see happening in front of the camera, including the decor, the figures and their movements, costumes, makeup, lighting, etc.) Michael appears as a nattily-dressed young man who impresses us as a mysterious, slightly louche fellow, a layabout. He’s a type of hero (or antihero) from the past – despite his (almost) contemporary garb. He may be a lovable rake, but sad: he seems preoccupied, lost in thought, perhaps tragic. His evident magical powers don’t seem to bring him any joy. He saunters down the street, in no great hurry.

This character seems a familiar kind of figure to us. In fact, it’s not the first time Michael himself played this sort of cynical, world-weary “man-about-town.” Here he is in the Diana Ross TV special from 1971, doing his best imitation of Frank Sinatra with the song Sinatra made a hit, “It Was a Very Good Year”:

Willa: Wow, that’s really interesting, isn’t it? He looks exactly like a film noir detective … and acts like one, loving and leaving women without becoming emotionally attached to any of them. He even talks like one, telling Diana Ross’ character, “We’ve been taking a train to nowhere.” Of course, part of the humor is having a 12 year old talk this way …

Nina: And here’s the cover art for Frank Sinatra’s album, In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning.

Sinatra-In the wee small hours

This man is a “type” who occupies a certain place in our collective imagination – sometimes he has a jacket slung casually over his shoulder, and he stands under a street lamp, “loitering” – possibly up to no good. He is between engagements: coming from somewhere, and on his way to something else … but we don’t know what.

Willa: Yes, and in Billie Jean the detective definitely fits this type – and so does Michael Jackson’s character to some degree, though his character is more complicated, more difficult to pin down.

Nina: Yes. What’s he doing in that seedy neighborhood on the “other side of the tracks”? Where has he recently been? His presence there is a mystery.

Willa: It is.

Nina: Then the camera shows us Michael’s point of view, as it moves in upon the homeless man who’d been hidden behind a garbage can. At the same time, we hear the first verse:

She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene
I said, “I don’t mind but what do you mean I am the one
Who would dance on the floor in the round?”
She said, “I am the one
Who would dance on the floor in the round”

But at this point, we don’t see our protagonist singing synchronously with the song. Instead, he is silent: he looks quizzically at the homeless man and again we see a closeup of the spinning coin, which lands in the man’s cup and makes it glow. Michael seems to have transformed the pauper into another nattily-dressed caricature with a white suit, white dress shoes, and a red cummerbund. The film’s images prompt us to make connections – between characters, between events – by way of visual association, rather than by setting up a specific problem, or crime, that needs to be solved.

Willa: That’s true. The images we see aren’t acting out the words of the song, as videos often do. There is no “beauty queen” and no discotheque with a dance floor “in the round.” Instead of acting out the lyrics, something much more impressionistic is happening.

By the way, just listening to your description of the opening scenes of Billie Jean conjures up noir-type images in my head. I could very easily imagine those kinds of scenes in The Maltese Falcon, for example, or Gilda, which Michael Jackson referenced in This is It.

The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941)

The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941)

Nina: Yes – there are so many interesting points of connection! If Billie Jean were a feature-length film, then the “Billie Jean” number would just be one scene within the larger film. But because it’s a short film (and understood in the context of a “music video”) a different set of expectations govern what we perceive. At first, just a few simple images and the first notes of the song playing have established an atmospheric world that we’ll live in for the next few minutes, which poses the question of how these isolated elements will add up and become a story that’s about to unfold.

It’s a very neatly constructed introduction, with the edits of the film often coinciding with the beats of the music: notice how his first three footfalls correspond with the rhythms of the song.

Willa: Yes, I love that!

Nina: And while we may not know what’s “going on,” it’s not necessary to know. We encounter it as a “music video,” which means that the performance of the artist will be paramount – that’s really what we’re there for! Beyond that, the film establishes an atmosphere for us to revel in which, more than anything, might describe a dream that issues from our unconscious.

Willa: That’s interesting, Nina. And that way of suggesting a story through visual cues and juxtaposed images rather than direct narration feels psychologically accurate, if that makes sense. What I mean is, that seems to be the way the mind works, so Billie Jean seems to be expressing psychological truth – “a dream that issues from our unconscious,” as you said – rather than a conventional story with a more straightforward plot and narrative.

Nina: Yes, I think so. We find in our dreams some devices that can operate in a way that’s very similar to the flow of images in a film – especially if they appear somewhat disjointed, or out of sequence. Initially, our minds may work in this more associative way, until we engage in a process of “revision” (as Freud would put it), where we begin to remember our dreams as complete narratives, with a beginning, middle, and end.

Willa:  I agree. It almost feels like we’re wandering around inside this character’s mind, inside his thoughts, as much as a real geographic place. And then from the collected images we’re shown – bits of memory, perhaps – we construct a narrative.

Nina: Yes. Plus, the film has so far shown us a handful of caricatures, like cartoons – all the more, because they appear in close up. In fact, the whole of this film could easily be translated to the medium of comic book or a graphic novel.

Willa:  I can see that! I hadn’t thought about that before, but you’re right. And apparently Michael Jackson felt a connection between those two forms: comic books and films. It’s been well documented, in Frank Cascio’s book and other sources, that he wanted to buy Marvel comics and turn them into movies before anyone else had the idea for doing that. And like a comic book or graphic novel illustrator, Michael Jackson was very skilled at evoking a sense of intrigue or other powerful emotion with just a few well-crafted images.

Nina: That’s interesting, Willa. He had a real flair for being richly succinct. As you and Raven pointed out in your post a few weeks ago, just a few simple items – articles of clothing, images, gestures – and a whole flood of associations comes to us. These may include even associations we may not be aware we had, but they’re nonetheless lodged somehow in our collective cultural memory. Even if some people have never seen a movie they could identify as a “Film Noir,” we’ve all encountered so many posters, photographs, advertisements, cartoons, comics – a whole storehouse of visual information that trigger these associations. Michael Jackson, an avid movie aficionado, could tap into this rich repository like a great archivist. As you say, he was very adept at selecting a few of these motifs – and by placing them in new contexts, he created meanings that are very distinct from their original use.

The images of one cat chasing another cat are significant, because they introduce a parallel: just as one cat trails another, the detective trails Michael in a game of “cat and mouse” (or “cat and cat”). We never actually see the two animals framed together in the same shot, but through the magic of film editing (it’s called “cross-cutting”), we assume that it’s a setup of pursuer/pursued – just as the detective, in a more protracted way, stalks Michael. And in fact, only twice during the film do Michael and the detective appear in the same shot. But almost from the very beginning, we understand their relationship.

Willa: Oh, interesting! And that idea is reinforced by several subtle scenes throughout the video. At 1:10 minutes in, Michael Jackson’s character pulls out a tiger-striped cloth – just like the one in “Girl Hunt Ballet” that turns out to be an important clue for helping Fred Astaire’s character solve the murder mystery. In Billie Jean, he pulls out a similar tiger-striped cloth, puts his shoe on a trash can, polishes his shoe with the cloth, and then a tiger cub appears. So there’s a symbolic connection between the tiger-striped cloth and a real (is it real?) tiger.

A few seconds later, at 1:22, we flash back to that scene and then almost immediately, at 1:25, we see the “pursued” cat turn into the tiger cub behind the same trash can. At 2:50, the photographer picks up the tiger-striped cloth – just as Fred Astaire does in “Girl Hunt Ballet” – and smiles, thinking he’s about to capture his prey. But he’s wrong. He’s the one who’s captured. As the police take him away, he drops the tiger-striped cloth, which turns into the tiger cub and escapes. Tiles light up as the tiger runs away, just as the tiles lit up under Michael Jackson’s character at the beginning.

So as you were saying, Nina, there’s an implied connection throughout Billie Jean between the cat, Michael Jackson’s character, the tiger-striped cloth, and the tiger cub that escapes at the end, though it’s never explicitly stated or shown. We just feel a connection because of those associations.

Nina: I actually thought it was Michael’s character (as an invisible presence) lighting up the tiles in the end – it didn’t occur to me that it was the tiger cub. I’ll have to look for that next time!

Willa: Or maybe it’s his character in the form of a tiger cub – an invisible tiger cub.

Nina: At any rate, it’s true that many of the relationships, motifs, and themes of the film are set up within the first minute, or even the first thirty seconds! At the second verse, we finally see a more distant shot that reveals the whole street corner, with the detective skittering around, picking up a newspaper with the headline “Billie Jean Scandal,” and hiding around the corner of the store: “Ronald’s Drugs,” as the sign tells us, on the “West Side.” Another common motif in films noir is a newspaper headline that indicates some tragic or shocking event that has occurred, which signals a further development of the film’s plot. (That trope survives today in police procedural shows like Law and Order: “Ripped from the headlines!”)

The name “Billie Jean,” which we see in the headline, is reinforced by what we’re hearing in the second verse of the song:

She told me her name was Billie Jean, and she caused a scene
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed
Of being the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round

So this is where we come upon a way of viewing cinematic work that’s actually a departure from the ways we view more traditional narratives. It seems we’ll be wrestling with a conundrum: the flow of images seem to be “telling” us one thing, while the song’s first-person narration – as voiced by Michael – tells us another story.

This is one important element that distinguishes feature films from a short “music video” – filmmakers, writers, and cinematographers can play fast and loose with these sound-image relationships, with no obligation to “illustrate” the song by means of the image, or vice versa. Instead, they can make more abstract and associative connections than if they were hidebound by the conventions of the linear narrative development. So that’s how I view Billie Jean, as well as others of Michael’s short films. They bear some of the iconic marks of a number of narrative film genres (horror, noir, gangster, romantic costume drama, contemporary urban drama) and the mise-en-scène we often associate with these genres. But they do not work upon our minds and our viscera in all the same ways. Creative, plastic film editing (as we see in Billie Jean) is something an editor might choose to do, as much for its rhythmic and associative possibilities as for anything else.

As Michael ambles down the street with his jacket slung over his shoulder, we get seemingly random inserts of the cat, the detective’s face, and Michael’s shoe; we are seeing a landscape that represents Michael’s interior mind, or memory … or perhaps ours. But still, we’re not necessarily seeing any visual enactment or “dramatization” of what Michael sings about.

Willa:  That’s an interesting point, Nina. The song and the video really are telling different stories, aren’t they? Or maybe the same story from different perspectives – the song focuses more on Billie Jean’s treacherous actions, while the video focuses more on him navigating a treacherous world. But the song and the video “fit” together so well, it feels right to see those images with those words.

Nina: The image and the sound are glued together by the coincident rhythms that both establish: Michael’s footsteps, lighting the tiles, are timed to fall exactly upon the major beat of the music. As he puts his foot up and cleans his shoe with a rag, we see further evidence of his seemingly magical ability to light things up and transform them. Then the song’s bridge:

People always told me be careful what you do
Don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts
And mother always told me be careful who you love
Be careful what you do, ’cause a lie becomes the truth …

What appears to be “happening” in the image, and the situation that Michael describes in the song, will pull us in different directions. It’s like two stories are going on simultaneously. We haven’t seen any women, much less any beauty queens.

Willa:  That’s true. The only women we see are the two women in the shifting images on the billboard. And they could be Billie Jean and My Baby, the two women in conflict in the lyrics, but there’s really nothing to suggest that other than our own desire to make meaning from the images we see. It’s interesting, though, that the billboard dominates the scene, just as these women are dominating his thoughts. In fact, at one point, at 2:14 minutes in, he stares at the billboard and then puts his hands to his head, as if he can’t contain his thoughts.

Nina: That’s so true, Willa – we have a strong desire to make meaning from the images we see, and from the words we hear, and to connect the two. When we hear a song, we form mental images of the people, places, and events that the lyrics describe. When we watch Billie Jean as a film, we are presented with an entirely different set of images of the people, places, and events that we formed in our imagination. This could present us with a major conflict! But for the most part, we’re not aware of anything particularly jarring – we simply learn to prioritize all the information that’s coming to us, and “suspend our disbelief”! We can even tolerate a certain amount of confusion.

Willa: Yes, though I never realized until you pointed it out how much the images in the video differ from the lyrics. That’s really interesting. But while the story told by the song and the story told by the video aren’t the same, they do seem related. They both center around a false accusation of sexual impropriety – a woman named Billie Jean is accusing him of fathering her son. In the song, we’re told that story through the lyrics, and in the video, we see it in that newspaper headline you mentioned before: “Billie Jean Scandal.” The song focuses primarily on his relationship with Billie Jean and the woman he loves (My Baby), their intertwined history, and the conflicts between them, while the video takes a different approach. It shows a detective who seems to be trying to gather information to support Billie Jean’s claims. So the stories they tell seem different but connected.

Nina: Yes, the stakes of the film have dramatically changed from those of the song. Michael Jackson and Steve Barron may have wanted to “triangulate” the dispute that started out with only two people, as a kind of he said/she said situation. The detective is introduced as a third element.

Michael then leans against a lamppost (lighting it up), still oblivious to the presence of the detective who is right behind him. This is where we see a Polaroid camera in the window of Ronald’s Drugs, spitting out a photograph in which Michael – to the detective’s consternation – doesn’t appear. We hear the chorus:

Billie Jean is not my lover
She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the kid is not my son
She says I am the one
But the kid is not my son

Then the image fades out as we enter a new chapter: Michael is going to sing and dance.

Willa: Wow, this is all so fascinating, Nina! And we’ll pick up with that new chapter in another post, when we continue taking a cinematographic look at Billie Jean. Thank you so much for joining me, Nina! And for sharing those wonderful movie stills.

Nina: My pleasure, Willa – and thanks so much!


About Dancing with the Elephant contributors

Joie Collins is a founding member of the Michael Jackson Fan Club (MJFC). She has written extensively for MJFC, helping to create the original website back in 1999 and overseeing both the News and History sections of the website. Over the years she conducted numerous interviews on behalf of MJFC and also directed correspondence for the club. She also had the great fortune to be a guest at Neverland. She has been a Michael Jackson fan since she was three years old. Lisha McDuff is a classically trained professional musician who for 30 years made her living as a flutist, performing in orchestras and for major theatrical touring productions. Her passion for popular musicology led her to temporarily leave the orchestra pit and in June 2013 she received a Master’s degree in Popular Music Studies from the University of Liverpool. She’s continuing her studies at McMaster University, where she is working on a major research project about Michael Jackson, with Susan Fast as her director. Willa Stillwater is the author of M Poetica: Michael Jackson's Art of Connection and Defiance and "Rereading Michael Jackson," an article that summarizes some of the central ideas of M Poetica. She has a Ph.D. in English literature, and her doctoral research focused on the ways in which cultural narratives (such as racism) are made real for us by being "written" on our bodies. She sees this concept as an important element of Michael Jackson's work, part of what he called social conditioning. She has been a Michael Jackson fan since she was nine years old.

Posted on April 16, 2015, in Michael Jackson and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 32 Comments.

  1. Hi Willa, and Nina, it’s great to “see” you here and have you share your knowledge with us. I see this is the first of other parts, so perhaps you plan to address this later. There is a strategy known as the “dream ballet,” which is used in the “Wizard of Oz” and which Michael uses in the “Bad” short film, in which the beginning and end are in B&W and the “dream” is in color. The dream is that of the main character. I don’t see that happening in “Billie Jean” nor in “Ghosts.” Perhaps you can add some clarity to my thinking.
    The “Billie Jean” short film has never been among my favorites, but I can more fully appreciate it now, so I thank you!

    • Hi Diana. Elizabeth Chin has a wonderful discussion of Michael Jackson’s use of the dream ballet in the panther dance of Black and White (another instance of a very muted palette – not black and white, but close) so he seems to have been aware of that tradition. But like you, I don’t read Billie Jean that way. As Nina talked about in the post, much of Billie Jean is structured in an associative way rather than narrative, which kind of suggests a dream world, but I don’t read Billie Jean as something that’s happening in his dreams.

      Ghosts … hmmm … that’s an interesting question. I haven’t read Ghosts that way either, but I do see dream ballet elements in it. But it doesn’t return to black and white at the end, like Bad does, and there isn’t a suggestion that it was all in his imagination, like there is in Bad. So I guess I would agree with you that the color segment in Bad is an example of dream ballet, and Billie Jean and Ghosts maybe draw on that tradition in some ways, but aren’t really presented as dream sequences.

      • Thanks for your response, Diana.

        It’s an interesting concept, and I too recommend Elizabeth Chin’s article on the “Black or White” film (it’s called “Michael Jackson’s Panther Dance: Double Consciousness and the Uncanny Business of Performing While Black”). There, she discusses the device of the dream ballet in film.

        Across a number of film musicals, the dream ballet is positioned to show a character’s dream within the larger story. The ballet displays the deepest hopes and darkest fears that their unconscious imagination can produce, and it often provides a turning point in the narrative: when the character awakens from the dream, the memory of it proves decisive in a further action they will take. In some ways, “Bad” is similar in that it reflects Daryl’s fantasy. But like Willa, I read Ghosts and Billie Jean a bit differently.

        Even so, Chin has an interesting take on the panther dance in “Black or White” as a dream ballet, so it’s worth checking out, if you haven’t already read it.

        • Thanks both…I feel sure that Chin’s article is where I learned of it, but will go back and review it.
          A side and totally unrelated sharing, as both of you are academics. I teach a class in Health promotion for vulnerable populations, and cultural diversity is a big component of the course. The concept of “cultural collision” is addressed, and believe it or not there is little about it. Students are required to read “The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down” about two cultures colliding in the care of a child with epilepsy. I used Michael’s “Bad” video as an example of two cultures “colliding” within the same person. The students could relate, and not ONE of them had seen the full version before. They appreciated it.

          Onward and upward! Thanks again Willa and Nina. Looking forward to the next installment.

          • Hi Diana,

            Your class sounds great and so important, Diana; and the idea of “cultural collision” is indispensable in fields like health care, mental health, and other settings where groups of people with very different backgrounds come together. Thanks for the book recommendation; it sounds fascinating.

            The idea of two cultures colliding within the same person is also very relevant to the phenomenon of cultural collision. I wanted to find out more about the events the “Bad” film was (loosely) based on, so I read an interesting book called “Best Intentions: The Education and Killing of Edmund Perry” by Sam Anson.

            Edmund Perry was a young man from New York among the “best and brightest” in his class, and received special placement at his public high school in Harlem where he, and other high-achieving students, were groomed to attend one of several prestigious prep schools—in his case, Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire. After graduation (with plans to attend Stanford University), he returned to Harlem that summer and was killed by a plainclothes cop after he had (allegedly) mugged the officer, with his brother.

            As it happened, Sam Anson was a journalist whose son was Edmund Perry’s classmate at the school. Anson interviewed numerous people who knew Edmund Perry—family, friends, classmates, teachers, people in the neighborhood. He discovers a world of difference—a resounding “cultural collision”—between the Harlem in which Perry had grown up, and the world of the predominantly white institution where he had never felt at home, and always something of an alien.

            You can read Mark Anthony Neal’s reflections about Edmund Perry here:

  2. Dear Nina and Willa, thank-you for a brilliant engaging piece. I have been so interested in MJ and Noir for the last decade and very much about Neo Noir rather than the traditional Noir which was capped by the post war period. Neo noir includes films which employ noir techniques for dramatic effect, and a particular favourite for its use is the director, David Fincher who directed The Social Network, Seven and MJ’s Who Is It? One of his perhaps most noir-esque films was Who Is It, perhaps even more so than Billie Jean because of its incredibly dark subject matter. Anyway, keep going with these great blogs. I am encouraged and enlivened by your discussions every time I read them.

    All the best,


    • Hi Elizabeth, thanks so much. There are some really intriguing possibilities here; I think the differences between classic Noirs and neo Noirs (about which I know very little!) raises some interesting questions between visual style in Michael Jackson’s short films, and the larger themes they aim to talk about. “Who is It” (and “Give in to Me,” I think) are great examples.

      I first became aware of David Fincher’s work when I saw Fight Club, so it’s been interesting for me to go back and consider Who is It in light of his later films. I’m afraid I know very little about Neo-Noir! I’d love to know how you see Who Is It, and what you feel it has in common with it.

      I just found an article in the Journal of Popular Film and Television (from Fall 2006), probably one of many articles that deal with Neo-Noir films in the ’80s: “Eighties Noir: The Dissenting Voice in Reagan’s America,” by Robert Arnett. He points out a few patterns that became prominent in American noir-ish films made during the 1980s (and into the 90s), including Chinatown, L.A. Confidential, Body Heat, Blue Velvet, To Live and Die in L.A., Fatal Attraction, and the TV Show “Miami Vice,” among others.

      According to Arnett, in these newer films we still meet the damaged heroes of decades earlier; but the ways these characters are incorporated into the narratives makes the Neo-noir critique of American society notably different from that of the classic films. In his analysis, the Neo Noir is a vehicle by which the hero (and by proxy, the filmmaker) exposes the dark underbelly of American society that had been painted as a dreamworld, ordinarily seen through a pair of rose-tinted glasses that the Reagan years, and much of the culture it produced, obliged us to wear.

      I think it’s an interesting proposition, and it would be great, I think, to explore these ideas more deeply in films like “Who Is It?” (though it was made a few years later), “Give In to Me,” and maybe some others.

      • Re: Documentary; David Fincher, neo-noir.

      • Dear Nina,

        You’re welcome. This has been a fascinating read to be sure. Neo-noirs are really still trying to claim a stake in Film Theory and Criticism. There isn’t much consensus on what they are, but Se7en is a great example of the use of Noir-style with much more modern conventions attached.

        Yes, Fincher is a unique one for sure. Especially because his roots are very much in music videos and he is known for some of the most visually striking work, Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ for example. I came at Fincher sideways too because I used him to teach Advanced Film Studies and try and bring across the concept of auteur theory. I particularly like the use of the auteur to explain what Jackson did in his work. That’s why there is such a congruity across all of his art.

        Thank-you for the article, Nina. It’s great. I’m going to use it in my research. Neo-noir is a great example of the disintegration of a genre and its motifs, to be reconstructed into something quite difficult. Noir went from being a form and style to being a trope. I agree with Arnett, wholeheartedly. For example, in Robert Rodriguez’s ‘Sin City’ all the heroes are criminals which rage against the systems of power which are far more criminal than those who are sent to jail for their crimes. It has become more about disenchantment and mistrust. Even the opening love scene is inverted into a murder and what we assume to be the femme fatale is killed off before the film’s main narrative even begins.

        Oh, yes. I totally agree with the exciting nature of the idea. I think Jackson use and appropriation of noir style and themes is yet to really be unpacked. Especially if we focus in on something specific, such as his use of cityscapes and the idea of the city as a jungle, or a labyrinthine hell where lawlessness abounds.

  3. MJJC just did a new Q & A with Steve Barron about working with Michael on the set of Billie Jean. You can read the transcript here:

    • Hi all4michael. Thanks for sharing this interview. Steve Barron did some incredible work and it’s very interesting to hear his insights. However, one thing I find frustrating about listening to him and John Landis and a number of other directors talk about working on Michael Jackson’s videos is that they seem to take all the credit – that the video is their vision, not his – and that he was little more than a dancer performing in their video.

      For example, in this interview Steve Barron implies that Michael Jackson was a wide-eyed kid who knew very little about cameras and the filming process. That simply isn’t true. He had been around cameras pretty regularly since he was 10 years old – on the Ed Sullivan Show, the Carol Burnett Show, Diana Ross’ show, other variety shows, as well as American Bandstand and a number of awards shows. He was also in Free to Be You and Me when he was 15 or 16 (does anyone else remember seeing that? I remember watching it with the youth group at my church when I was in junior high) and he was in The Wiz about five years before Billie Jean. He’d also done several music videos by then, for “Don’t Stop til You Get Enough,” “Rock with Me,” and “She’s out of My Life.” So in some ways he was as much a veteran as Steve Barron (who’s only three years older than he is) and it simply isn’t true that he had never seen a set before.

      Here’s a specific example. Someone emails in this question:

      I wonder about the cloth with tiger stripes that later became a tiger cub, whose idea was it and what does it really mean? Also, I am interested to know more about the homeless man who became rich- or did he just got better clothes? Anyone can have their own ideas about it, but what was the purpose about it when you made the video? Whose idea was it?

      Here’s Barron’s response:

      The idea of transformation was really kind of an extension of the idea of the Midas touch really, everything changing and turning and glowing. I was pretty obsessed by the idea of transformation at the time. I don’t know why, I just see parallels in things and how things could become things and transform. So the ideas really, I think just came out of that. And the Midas touch, turning from a bum in the street to somebody as rich as a king, you know is an old idea, an old Grimm’s fairy tale. Those are things that were always around in the ethos, so it was just another part of the video to do that do to. And the cloth and the little leopard… I’m racking my brain, but I think on the single there was a little leopard, wasn’t there? Or am I imagining that? And that might have inspired that moment. But yeah, it was really transformation and change.

      So Barron implies these were all his ideas, but then he doesn’t know where the tiger-striped cloth came from. As Nina and I talked about in the post, the image of a private eye picking up a tiger-striped cloth is a direct visual quotation from The Band Wagon, one of Michael Jackson’s favorite movies. So I’m pretty sure the idea for the tiger-striped cloth – and for the private eye in a fedora and trench coat – came from Michael Jackson himself.

      The image of the private eye ties in with the theme of surveillance – that he is constantly under surveillance – that runs throughout his work. The idea of transformation is another recurring theme, and it appears before Billie Jean. So while I’m sure Steve Barron participated in developing these ideas, I’m equally sure that Michael Jackson did too. He was not just a dancer in a Steve Barron video.

      • Hi Willa, I totally agree with you, that Michael wasn’t a ‘wide-eyed kid who knew very little about cameras and the filming process” when they filmed the Billie Jean video.
        And do you know that interview from 1999, where Michael talks to MTV about the Billie Jean video, and he says, that it was the concept of Steve Barron, and he only added the dance-part? But reading your and Nina’s post, I really think, that he did contribute more than just the dance section in front of those billboards. So even when it was Barron’s concept, they certainly talked about a lot of details and Michael brought his ideas and perceptions in, so that the „outer“ concept was Barrons but the elaboration in detail must have contained a lot of Ideas from Michael, so that he pushed the story in a certain direction. May be he was very skillful in doing that, to bring his ideas in without explaining why he wanted certain things and so Barron really doesn’t know why – for example – that tiger stripe cloth is in there because it also fits to his idea of the midas touch-thing.

        (t’s about 3:00 in the video)

        Here’s the script of that Billie Jean-part:
        AC: “Billie Jean” was kind of different because it really doesn’t have anything to do with the lyrics and the video, it was kind of a whole different thing. How did you come up with that?

        MJ: It’s kind of surreal and it’s different. I didn’t come up with that concept. It was – I think a British fellow – Steve Barron – he just had all these different – and I thought he had wonderful ideas but I let him go with it. The only part I wrote in the piece was – I said: “I just want a section.” I said, “Give me a section here I can dance a little” because he said no dancing in the whole piece, he said, “no dancing” . I said “just give me one little moment”, so that whole section where you see this long street and this billboard of these two girls, one of them is Billie Jean and I’m dancing – that’s the only part I contributed.

        • Hi all4michael. Thanks for sharing that interview. I hadn’t watched it in a while and had forgotten that he explicitly says in this interview that one of the girls on the billboard is Billie Jean. That’s interesting.

          And you’re right – he does give a lot of credit to Steve Barron for coming up with the concept for the video and says “the only part I wrote in the piece” was the dance section. But I don’t think that means he was totally hands off. In fact, I don’t think that at all. I think he was very hands on at every step in the process.

          For example, I was so intrigued by that MTV interview clip that I went back and found a longer version. And about 2 minutes in he’s specifically asked, “How much faith or trust or, how much of it do you let the director decide in developing concepts?” He replies, “Oh, I’m very much involved in the complete making and creating of the piece. I mean, it has to be from my soul.” Here’s a link:

          And actually, Steve Barron himself says something kind of similar in the MJJC interview you shared earlier. He was asked if he thinks Michael Jackson would be happy with the new releases coming out since his death, and he replies,

          Would he be happy? I think he … he was a perfectionist. I think he would want everything done his way. He had exceptional taste and style and ideas, so I don’t think so, no. I think he’d want to change everything to be the way he wanted it to be.

          So I think this is a really complicated question. I remember reading or listening to an interview a few years ago (I don’t know where, and I really wish I could track it down!) where Michael Jackson was asked about his creative process in making his short films. He said he would usually have a phone conversation with a potential director where they would talk about ideas (and wouldn’t you just love to have a recording of those conversations?). Then, if that went well and they seemed to be on the same wave length, he would leave the director alone for a few weeks to come up with concepts for expressing the ideas and emotions they’d talked about. After a few weeks they’d talk again, and the director would usually present two or three different concepts. And if Michael Jackson liked one of those concepts, they’d keep talking and start developing it further.

          So if that’s an accurate depiction of how his videos generally came about – and it rings true to me – then that makes it very difficult to separate out who had which ideas and concepts. It was truly a collaborative effort, with Michael Jackson participating and providing guidance throughout, but also giving the director freedom in how to convey those ideas and emotions through film.

      • The idea od MJ as a ”wide-eyed kid who knew very little…” seems to have a lot to do with his focus on wonderment as a source of creativity and ”world-healing”. If you really live the ideal of seeing everything afresh, as Michael certainly did, by choice or by circumstance, then other adults will think you’re naive or even dumb. I know it from my own experience, as I’ve sometimes myself tried to really meet the world with a ”wow attitude”: Wow, have you seen the way paper bags really look etc. Inevitably this will create reactions like: What’s wrong with you, haven’t you seen paper bags before?!

        I’m amazed at Quincy Jones. In a recent interview, he depicted Jackson as a blank canvas, saying:
        “Michael had no idea what we were doing there, man, with Thriller,” he said. “You know, with Vincent Price there and Edgar Allan Poe narration, and stuff like that. There’s crazy stuff on there. And people didn’t get it until, I’d say, eight months later.”


        • “If you really live the ideal of seeing everything afresh, as Michael certainly did, by choice or by circumstance, then other adults will think you’re naive or even dumb.”

          Yes! I think you’ve really struck on something important, Bjørn. I really think this is true, and especially evident in how people talk about Michael Jackson. He is frequently described as childlike, and not necessarily in a positive way. And even with those who are trying to sound positive, often there’s still a belittling sense that he didn’t really have an adult comprehension or awareness of the real world. And his work contradicts that absolutely – it took an adult understanding to create much of his work, his later work especially.

          I think his creativity combined a childlike wonder and a mature understanding of the problems facing the world – problems like racism, misogyny, child abuse, environmental destruction, war, hunger, and neocolonialism – and in fact I think it required both sides, the wonder and the mature understanding. But we tend to impose an artificial dividing line between childhood and adulthood, and try to force people exclusively to one side or the other, so I think the more mature side of his creativity is often overlooked.

  4. Thanks, all4michael. I just found that Q & A recently, and it’s very useful. I also read Barron’s book, “Egg n Chips & Billie Jean,” and I hope we’ll talk about this in our next installment.

  5. Thanks for this interesting discussion, Willa and Nina. As a comment on the tiger/leopard, I think it could be a nod to the cover of the Thriller album, where MJ is holding a tiger or leopard cub? Re film noir, I am think of his devotion to Fred Astaire and how that impacted him in so many ways. There is a nonchalence and sophistication about his movements, dress (that white suit and fedora in Smooth Criminal, etc), and even his body in dance, that is sometimes, not always of course, very reminiscent of Fred Astaire’s style, perhaps even in the Billie Jean video. What do you think? I also came across this reference–haven’t read it yet but could be interesting: Hollywood Genres and Post-war America: Masculinity, Family and Nation in Popular Movies and Film Noir (Cinema and Society) Paperback – December 22, 2005 by Mike Chopra-Gant .

  6. Thanks stephenson. I think you’re right: the nonchalant attitude, which is the essence of a kind of hipsterism and “cool” 1950s-style, is exactly what Michael’s character seems to affect here. It echoes Astaire’s performance in “The Band Wagon,” certainly. And thanks for the reference to the book—it looks fascinating. (I’ve located it as an ebook in my university library, and I look forward to reading it.)

    As a film genre, Film Noir is very well-documented. Many books have been written about it from nearly every conceivable angle, it seems. it remains an ever-popular form that continues to speak to new generations of fans, who are fascinated by the more glamorous representations of crime and deviance. Even by the time “The Band Wagon” was released (1953), the form had had plenty of time to percolate in the public consciousness, and was ripe for parody (The Band Wagon as a whole is a highly self-reflexive movie in those ways: about an “artsy, pretentious” theater director and the people who suffer themselves to work under him.) It’s framed as a love story, and also a series of parodic episodes where “high” and “low” modes of entertainment come into contact and conflict. So it’s fitting that a few familiar aspects of the “detective” or “private eye” movie would be staged as part of the ensemble’s final performance, where Vincente Minnelli’s florid art direction also pushes the “Girl Hunt Ballet” into the area of over-the-top surrealist camp.

    The Noir hero-type today is so much a part of our “cultural DNA” (as they say), it seems he’s always up for some parody or revival. Here’s Garrison Keillor and his “Prairie Home Companion,” in his recurring character “Guy Noir”:

    Another example from Michael’s performances: here’s the white suit, the elegant nonchalance, a movement signature that resembles Astaire’s yet also belongs to MJ exclusively, the exaggerated cityscape (artifice of the painted set), a few loose, and possibly “bad,” women, chorines in red sequins. We might say here’s a Noir hero-in-training. Of course, he’s “supposed” to be an older and more mature man—–but that’s true of his 1971 performance on the “Diana!” special, too, when he was a pre-adolescent!

    I never tire of watching this:

    • Thanks, Nina–wow–that “Get Happy” sketch is very much in the Fred Astaire style indeed. I recently read LaToya’s first book released in 1991 and she talks about how Fred Astaire was MJ’s “idol” and how thrilled he was when they moved to L.A. and found he was one of the Jackson’s close neighbors in Beverley Hills, where they lived in 1971 before they moved to Hayvenhurst. She writes:

      “Frank Sinatra lived nearby, as did Michael’s ultimate idol, Fred Astaire, to whom he’d later dedicate ‘Moonwalk.’ One day we learned that the legendary dancer, then about 72, wanted to meet Michael. My brother was speechless. ‘I see you jogging around the neighborhood all the time,’ Mr. Astaire told him. Michael floated back home.”

  7. I think it’s true what you say, Willa: we do tend to impose an artificial dividing line between childhood and adulthood. It would be worth looking at why we do this.

    I also think Michael’s childlike wonder was something he could *perform* from time to time, as he saw fit: which didn’t make it any the less an authentic part of him. It’s just that he could also perform, say, the hard-headed businessman (seemingly the opposite of the wondrous child) as the occasion demanded.

    Maybe even more than the discomfort of any of these categories, then, the very idea of blurring the distinctions between “performance” and the “authentic self” made the public uneasy. Michael’s seemingly inconsistent—even, at times, contradictory—motives and modus operandi needed, at some point, to yield to some definitive “answer.” When no “answer” seemed to be forthcoming, and when all journalists’ efforts to deliver “the real Michael Jackson” to the public failed, there was hell to pay in many forms.

    This is all about stagecraft and celebrity, and its relationship to what we think of as identity. But that’s a big discussion: maybe another time.

    I agree it’s hard to know exactly what Barron was responsible for, and which ideas were Michael’s; and the passage of time really seems to have diminished the possibility of a detailed recounting of the events, in the minds of both (according to several interviews, years after ‘Billie Jean’ was made).

    • Hi Nina. I think this issue of authenticity is a very important one, I think – especially since, as you say, his “blurring the distinctions between ‘performance’ and the ‘authentic self’ made the public uneasy.”

      I think this is true, and we see it in the way he was strongly criticized by some for, as an example, seeming to break down in tears at the exact same point in a concert night after night. So this seemingly spontaneous breakdown was a clearly part of the performance, but does that mean it wasn’t authentic? – that he did not feel genuine emotion at that moment?

      These questions carried over into discussions of his “performance” in interviews, or in court, or in the video he released after the strip search. Repeatedly, the question for many critics seemed to be, Was he showing genuine emotion or simply performing? Was he authentic or not? And that unanswerable question seemed to generate tremendous anxiety for some people, as you say.

  8. Thanks for this intriguing discussion! I am still only about halfway through the piece, as there is much here to digest, and will have to finish it up tomorrow but I did want to comment on a few things mentioned in the first half. You guys mentioned the film Ghosts and its technique of going from black and white to color. I have always thought this served essentially the same function as in The Wizard of Oz. In that film, the first part which shows Dorothy at home in Kansas, leading her normal day to day life, is in black and white. But once she lands in Oz, and steps outside her door, everything suddenly turns to color. This heightens the contrast between the two worlds-the reality that is Kansas as opposed to the fantastical world that is Oz. I always felt Michael was going for a similar concept in Ghosts. Outside the world of the Maestro’s magical kingdom, Normal Valley is dull and ordinary. But when the lynch mob of citizens enters the mansion, the transformation to color produces an effect similar to that of The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy steps outside her door. The Wizard of Oz could hardly be classified as Film Noir, but what we do see is a very creative use of how the techniques of black and white and color photography could be used creatively within the same film (and, of course, due to the fact that technicolor was still in its infancy in the late 1930’s it heightens the sense of magic and wonder that 1930’s audiences would have experienced at suddenly being transported to a world of color).

    I was also very much interested in the discussion of criminals and the detectives who pursue them in Noir. Yes, the production code dictated that any criminal act must have some form of repercussion for the criminal. It’s interesting that if we look at films made before the production code went into effect in 1934, there were many films being made which were equivalent to much edgier films that would be released in the 50’s and 60’s (after the code was relaxed substantially). One of the unfortunate drawbacks of the code is that it did place a lot of artistic restrictions on filmmakers, which is why European films made during this era are usually much more realistic and interesting. The aspect of the code that Nina was referring to, which demanded that all criminal actions be punished, was the reason why the 1951 film version of A Streetcar Named Desire has a significantly different ending from the play, which probably didn’t make Williams very happy since it completely altered his intended meaning for the end of the play. But it came down to a very hard choice that had to be made to preserve the story’s integrity. At the end of the play, Stanley rapes Blanche, an act that drives her over the edge and causes her to lose whatever fragile grasp she has on reality. Her sister Stella then has her committed. But at the end of the play, Stella chooses Stanley over her sister, and the decision to commit her is part of that decision. In the film version, however, see see Stella suddenly having a rather unbelievable epiphany as she turns and runs away, declaring, “I’ll never go back again.” It was somewhat corny, but the price that had to be paid, in order to satisfy the censors, so that the rape could remain in the story. In other words, it would have been considered a defiance of the code to allow Stanley to “get away” with the rape and still have his wife and family.

    Obviously, I think there are still a lot of vestiges of the code that continued even after it was no longer in effect. The hardboiled cop and/or private detective is kind of a variant, whereby we have an unconventional hero who doesn’t fit in with normal society, who is very much an outsider himself and does things outside the conventions of law, yet because he is on the “right” side of the law we can feel okay about identifying with him or giving him hero status.

    Anyway, great discussion and I’ll look forward to resuming it.

    • Hi Raven. Funny you should mention The Wizard of Oz because Nina and I were just talking about that. Nina sees some very interesting connections between it and Billie Jean

      And that’s really interesting about A Streetcar Named Desire. I knew the film changed the ending, but didn’t realize it was because of the production code. You and Nina have me very curious now – I’d really like to learn more about this. I know that Rhett Butler’s famous line, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” was considered rather risque because of the code, and I believe any hint of miscegenation was prohibited, but other than that I don’t know much about it.

      • Yes, it was quite a battle that ensued in order to retain the line “Frankly, my dear I don’t give a damn” (which was actually a much more toned down “My dear, I don’t give a damn” in the book; I think the addition of the word “frankly” was a genius move). It seems silly today to think that the word “damn” once created so much controversy in a movie.

      • Can you all please do a discussion on Michael Jackson’s “Give In To Me” music video? I was wondering why there are close up shots of people’s noses in that video. There are couples in the video of a man and woman, and some just single of men and women, and there are lots of close up shots aimed at people’s noses. Just curious of what this means. Thanks <3.

        • Hi Kate. Give in to Me is a fascinating video, isn’t it? When you really look at it, there’s so much more going on than you realize at first glance. Joie and I did a post talking about some of those things a couple years ago (here’s a link) but we didn’t talk about noses! I’ll have to watch it again with that in mind.

          Thanks for getting in touch.

          • Thanks for the link Willa. I’ll read it now. Can you all also do another discussion for the music video “Give In To Me” regarding the close up shots at people’s noses to see what it means? Thanks <3.

  9. Hello Willa. It’s been a couple of days, and I haven’t gotten a response. Can you let me know if you all are going to do another discussion on MJ’s “Give In To Me” video, regarding the close ups?

  10. Hey you guys, I wanted to ask you about MJ’s “Smooth Criminal” video, why are there 4 different versions of this video? Why so many?

    Also, I heard that this video is the album version, and that this video is a montage of clips from the original Moonwalker version, that have either been sped up, or slowed down, and glossed with an added blur effect, as well as some alternate angles. But if this is true, how come I never saw these clips of these women here 0:34 and 2:05 before in the original video?

    Thanks 💗

    • Hi kate. Thank you for sharing that remix video. It helped me see things I hadn’t seen before, even though I’ve watched Smooth Criminal many times.

      So Smooth Criminal is a music video, but it was also part of Moonwalker, a feature-length film that Michael Jackson roughly modeled after Fred Astaire’s The Band Wagon. As we talked about in a post a while back, both films are structured as a series of song-and-dance numbers, with each also telling something of a story.

      The full Smooth Criminal story segment in Moonwalker is about 25 to 30 minutes long, as I remember – much longer than a music video. Here’s a link to a playlist showing the full movie.

      The “official” music video that was released for Smooth Criminal is a much shorter version of the story. Here’s that version:

      While it’s shorter than the full segment in Moonwalker, at 9:25 minutes it’s still long for a video. So an even shorter version was created. Here’s an HD version of that one:

      This is the version that played most often on MTV, I believe, though occasionally they’d play the 9-minute version. There are also videos of Michael Jackson performing “Smooth Criminal” in concert. So there are a lot of different ways to experience this song visually….

  1. Pingback: Eher wie eine Filmszene, Teil 1 | all4michael


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