“It’s close to midnight, And something evil’s lurking in the dark”
This was an event.
On December 2, 1983, MTV premiered Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and I can still remember where I was when it happened. A crowd had gathered in the basement of the Pi Kappa Alpha house at the University of Missouri-Rolla, now known as Missouri University of Science and Technology (Missouri S&T). We were there to witness something everyone had been talking about for weeks.
Fast forward 43 years.
Earlier this summer, my son and I watched Michael, the biographical film starring Michael Jackson’s nephew, Jaafar Jackson. The movie was interesting and, at times, sad. It highlighted Jackson’s extraordinary talent and creativity while exploring the challenges that accompanied fame for both him and his family.
One of the movie’s most compelling segments focused on the making of Thriller. The film portrays the project as a pivotal moment in Jackson’s career, a creative gamble that forever changed the music industry. While much of the controversy that later surrounded his life is largely absent from the story, rumors suggest a sequel may continue the narrative.
Watching that scene brought me right back to that crowded fraternity basement in Rolla.
Looking back, what I remember most is not just the video itself. I remember the anticipation. I remember the room full of people gathered around a television. I remember experiencing something new at exactly the same moment as millions of others.
That kind of shared experience is harder to find today.
We live in a world of unlimited content, available anytime and anywhere. The convenience is remarkable, but the experience is different. Entertainment has become increasingly personalized. We watch what we want, when we want, often by ourselves. In 1983, however, cultural moments were still communal. On Monday morning, everyone was talking about the same thing.
Maybe that’s why Thriller continues to resonate after all these years.
The zombies, the red leather jacket, and Vincent Price’s unforgettable narration are certainly part of its legacy. But the real magic may have been something simpler: for a few minutes, an entire generation stopped to watch the same thing together.
Forty-three years later, I can still picture that basement at the Pike house, the excitement before the premiere, and the conversations that followed.
We didn’t know we were watching history.
We just knew we couldn’t take our eyes off the screen.
And a particular genre welcoming us to the “spooky season” was born:
“It’s a dead man’s party, who can ask for more? Everybody’s coming; leave your body at the door.”
Until Next Time: I Wanna Go Back
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