Around the world in 80 pages: #1 Moon(walker) pie, what a time to be alive

Believe it or not, I spent a good twenty minutes working out the title to this, my inaugural, post. Reading Wikipedia entries all day, obviously the best possible use of my time at work, I stumbled across a page about Michael Jackson’s 1988 dance odyssey Moonwalker where my eyes were immediately drawn to the text about Smooth Criminal.

I remembered very little about the video as I read; Alien Ant Farm’s unfortunate cover version had obscured my vision of Jackson at his inimitable best like a University rugby player drawing a penis over every page of the only copy of Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Fortunately, I rushed home to remind myself exactly why, for a number of years, Michael Jackson was the biggest superstar in the world.

For those who haven’t seen it in its entirety, definitely check it out. It is without doubt the best music video I have ever seen. From the improbably well tossed quarter that slides neatly into the slot of the Jukebox to the renowned anti-gravity lean, there is not a moment that dips below utter perfection. Its such a shame, then, that Michael Jackson will be remembered not for the style, the moves, the talent he oozes throughout but for his dubious relationship with children and plastic surgery. And that’s the best thing about the video; there isn’t a bottle of bleach or child in sight. (O.K that’s only half true, but it’s the kids watching Jackson prance around in a seedy, backalley, speakeasy and not the other way round).

N.B. When I made a film with my friends during sixth form I held lofty ambitions that the climactic scene could be as good as Jacko‘s video. Well, not quite as good. Nowhere near as good. A decent attempt. Alright, an attempt. I suppose in that sense we succeeded. It was slightly unfair, though, because we only had six dancers, all of whom were poorly directed and untalented. And we filmed it in a rather small room in my mother’s house. Oh, and there was very little choreography. Or budget. Other than that, it was exactly the same. You can see the (completely transformed) end result here.

This week I have been listening to Musik, by Plastikman.

Next time: Serial killers, serial thrillers.

words: Giles Skerry