Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Are Zombies Real or Pretend?


Dylan loves Michael Jackson.  He’s particularly fond of Thriller, both the song and the video.   He asked to watch it the other day and I said no because it has zombies.  He described the video in some detail, even imitating the dances.  Obviously he’d seen it before.  I knew he wasn’t afraid of anything, except zombies, vampires, the dark, monsters, Moo Cat (sometimes), windows without blinds in them, banshees, being alone, needles, nightmares (that’s fear of having one, not an actual nightmare), loud noises, his large stuffed animals if they’re left on the bed at night, and having splinters removed.  We decided to watch it together.  
“Are werewolves real?” Dylan asked.
“No,” I told him.
“That’s Michael Jackson,” he told me.  
“Uh huh,” I said.  Translation: You were negative twenty-one when this came out, kid, shut up.
“He turns into a werewolf, but not really.”

        "Yeah."
Adults see special effects in their infancy; a 6-year-old sees terror.

When Michael Jackson and Ola Ray leave the theater, a voice comes from the background.  Someone in the movie they're leaving reads a phrase written in blood: “See You Next Wednesday.”  Not wanting to be outdone in my knowledge of the Thriller video, I told Dylan that director John Landis puts that phrase in all of his movies.  Dylan was not impressed.
[Side note: I didn’t need to Google the name of the actress who played Michael Jackson’s girlfriend.  At eleven years old I didn’t know why I thought so highly of her, but I knew it had to be something special.  Special enough for her name to stick all this time.]
“Are zombies real, or fake?” Dylan asked later.
“What do you think?” I non-answered.
He watched the screen for a moment.
“Fake,” he said.
“That’s right.”  
“Those are zombies.”  He pointed.
“No, those are dancers wearing zombie makeup,” I said.    
“Oh, yeah.  Michael Jackson is wearing makeup.  The rest of them are zombies.”  
“No, they’re all wearing makeup,” I said, “because there’s no such thing as zombies, remember?”
“Oh.”  The way he said oh, I knew he didn’t understand.  Zombies are fake, but this one time Michael Jackson danced with some for a video.  Or zombies are real, but the Thriller zombies are pretend.  Or Zombies are fake, but there are real zombies in movies.  
“Those are all dancers,” I said.  “They all got put in makeup, just like Michael Jackson.”  
“Then how did that one’s arm fall off?”
“It’s a fake arm.”
“Oh,” he said.  Translation: Aaron doesn’t know what he’s talking about.   
At that point in the video, director John Landis made his cameo as the zombie emerging from a mausoleum.  
“Look,” Dylan said, “That’s the Captain.  He was a Captain.”
With the navy blue suit, hat, and the beard, Dylan certainly had a point.
“Actually, that’s the director,” I said.
“Huh?”
“He directed this video,” I explained, “and he put himself in it as a joke.”
“And he died?”
Sigh. 

This is why daddy drinks.
“No, he’s wearing makeup.  Zombies are fake, remember?”
The big dance sequence in the street started.  Dylan pointed to the screen.
“That’s Michael Jackson in zombie makeup.  Those are zombies in zombie makeup.”
“Those are dancers in zombie makeup,” I said.  “Right?  There are no zombies.”
He considered the screen for a while.  The dancers went through their head spins, which are basically showing off the various make-up jobs, when this guy happened:  
sup?

Dylan turned away.
“Can we watch Dino-Squad?” 
Absolutely. 
For a song which will really haunt your dreams, click here.
Dylan is scared that the living dead will feast on his flesh. I'm afraid my IQ points are being drained by that song the Dino Squad plays every time a member "goes Dino."

I hope we're both wrong.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Finding EO

As I mentioned, Becky and I went to see the re-release of Captain EO at Epcot Center.  The first thing you see on screens outside the theater for Captain EO Tribute is, as the voiceover carefully points out, “the original introduction, exactly as it appeared in 1986.”  This let’s you know the movie itself is as dated as Aqua Net Hairspray.  
Seeing video from the eighties (and I mean genuine eighties, not The Wedding Singer or Blow) is like watching Japanese games shows- there’s an I-can’t-possibly-be-seeing-what-I’m-seeing splendor to the whole enterprise that makes it hilarious and cringe-inducing all at once.  I offer one example, a man who we assume is a formerly-human victim of the Supreme Leader.  Sentenced to be a robot frozen into a pillar, he’s struck with the awesome power of Caption EO’s love / song / life force and transformed - much to his astonishment - into this guy:
I'm like, totally human again.  Let's dance about it!
As a film, the in-theater smoke and lighting effects were precursors to 4D films like Muppet Vision 3D, It’s Tough to be a Bug, and Honey, I Shunk the Audience.  The design of the Supreme Leader, an unrecognizable Angelica Huston suspended in cables as a kind of cybernetic spider, led directly to Star Trek’s Borg Queen.  A few years removed from Thriller, the moves are very zombie-dancerific, and we get to see Michael Jackson's signature Moonwalk.  
The thing is, my inner thirteen-year-old didn’t care about the film; he cared about the phenomenon.  
When EO first came out in 1986, it was what The Wizarding World of Harry Potter is to Universal today.  People didn’t buy tickets to Magic Kingdom to see Magic Kingdom, they bought tickets to Magic Kingdom because it was the only way to get into Tomorrowland and watch Michael Jackson as Captain EO.  Many people waited for hours, watched the show, then got back in line to wait for the next showing.  Some extra-dedicated fans - probably the same ones who petitioned for Caption EO’s return - spent entire days at the Magic Kingdom that way.
I was a month shy of turning fourteen, living in Syracuse.  We were not poor, but my family didn't have money to travel.  Every night for weeks, news footage showed lines of people waiting to get into Captain EO.  Looking at still frames in the newspaper, watching the making-of documentary, listening to the few classmates who had been say it was better than Thriller, I knew the movie itself was something I’d never see.  Eventually Jean Claude Van Damme made Bloodsport, and I stopped caring.  
Bring me EO, and I will punch him.
I’m so glad I finally got to see Captain EO.  Watching Michael Jackson boss a team of robots and fuzzy aliens around (the only crew who could believably take orders from him anywhere outside of a recording studio), wake up from a space crash covered in garbage composed entirely of fake rubber food (most expensive film per-minute at the time and plastic eggs-over-easy is the best you’ve got?), and seeing magical dance moves transform menacing robots into extras from an Olivia Newton John video was the hilarious high point of my day.  
Does that mean I didn’t miss much?  I don’t know.  Had I gone in 1986, my gawky, braces-wearing, mullet-sporting boy-child would have loved every frame of Captain EO.  I would have  dressed as Captain EO for halloween, and been every bit as believable a Space Captain as Michael Jackson.  
Except I can’t Moonwalk.