We Need to Talk About the 'Michael Jackson - Beat It' Music Video
Unintentionally hilarious but also strangely aspirational
Warning: This post was flagged as too long for email, which I interpret to mean as “email is insignificant to withstand such power.” You can’t stop “Beat It.” You can only hope to contain it. For the full experience, you’ll need to read this in a browser.
I enjoyed doing the “Danzig—Mother 93 Live” article so much, I instantly knew I was going to do it again. I might never stop doing these kinds of posts. On the heels of that revelation was the foreknowledge that “Beat It” must be the next song I covered.
I loved Michael Jackson when I was a kid. Coming back to this music video for the first time in at least 30 years was a strange experience. I remember so much of it, but didn’t remember remembering until the point of remembrance. That’s Inception levels of complication. It’s a weird thing to have an external stimulus dislodge a brick in your mind and discover something has been lurking there the whole time.
“Beat It” is not my favorite Michael Jackson song.1 It’s not my favorite Michael Jackson music video.2 But “Beat It” is an unintentionally hilarious music video, and thus, is perfectly fit to purpose.
I didn’t do any research before writing this. I didn’t study in high school, why start now. A quick scan of Wikipedia unearthed this delightful nugget: The video was shot on Skid Row and cast Cribs and Bloods gang members. That in itself raises other questions—did they put the actual gang members on opposite fictional gangs?—but mostly it creates a fun game where you spend the entire video trying to figure out who was an actual gang member, and who’s a dancer cosplaying as one.
Here’s a link, in case you want to watch the video first.
0:00: We open in rundown diner hazy with cigarette smoke.
Even more than the style of clothing or the fact that Michael Jackson of all people is singing about gang violence and nobody laughed, it’s the smoking indoors that most clearly defines this as occurring in the early 80s.3
For some reason this scene always reminds me of the diner scene in Superman II, which comes after Clark gives up his powers because he wants to shag Lois Lane but is afraid the D will kill her.4 The diners look nothing alike. I saw these two scenes around the same time, and therefore they stuck in my still-developing brain as somehow linked.
0:10: Even though they’re sitting at opposite ends of the counter, the two Black guys apparently know each other. They peel out together. Why were they sitting apart? Are they more like coworkers than friends? Was the older guy trying to initiate some MMF action with the Asian couple?
0:12: The older guy is wearing an Indiana Jones fedora, red and black stripped pants, a teal shirt, and a yellow and black coat. It’s nice to see colorblind people getting representation.
The younger guy is using an actual chain as a belt. He’s also wearing a thick metal choker. A picture is coming into focus: these two are lovers who are into BDSM. Suddenly, them sitting apart makes sense—the distance is a different sort of denial.
0:21: The men exit the diner. As the door swings shut, the first chord kicks in. Perfect.
0:24: Six sweaty men spin out of the darkness with the suddenness of an ambush. How long were they lying in wait on that dark corner? Why are they sweaty? Is that Thomas C. Howell at the back of the line?
As they turn and run, howling in the night—is this what Michael Jackson thinks gangs do?—we see the leader wears his hair like Rufio. Well, that’s fitting. This feels less like a gang than a little boy’s idea of a gang.
0:29: LMAO. A manhole cover is pushed aside and two men climb into the street. This town is so rife with gangs, not even the sewers are safe. You can run, but you can’t hide from the dark, possibly gay heart at the center of this city.
The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles famously live in sewers but let the record show that “Beat It” got there first.
0:35: Scene change as we move to a pool hall. The leader of this gang looks like the love child of Michael Biehn and George Michael. We will therefore refer to him as Michael Michael.
A couple of dolled-up hotties are giving him eyes, but Michael Michael is too intent on the game. Too busy staring at balls.
At this point I don’t know if I’m reading the vibes correctly or if I’m just casting gay shadows everywhere.
0:42: Michael Michael rolls out with his crew. I know we’re not supposed to pick sides, that gang wars are a blight, but at this point I’m team Michael Michael. He has an actual, legit crew. The other gang is a hodgepodge of S&M enthusiasts, discount Lost Boys, and actual sewer dwellers.
0:46: The guitar riff kicks in as we’re finally introduced to the leader of the misfits. Like Michael Michael, he has superstar vibes, Freddie Mercury by way of Lionel Richie. Henceforth, he shall be known as Freddie Richie.
Freddie is already sweaty, so naturally Rufio puts a heavy coat on him. If you’re about to have a knife fight to the death, you gotta look your best. That’s the only rule of these streets.
Freddie Richie leaves a dive bar with his crew in tow. The token hetero guy gives his girl a long, hard kiss goodbye. She watches him go without concern. As the straight guy, he’s the only one safe from Michael Michael.
1:00: Freddie Richie is dripping with sweat. Is it anxiety over what’s to come? Is he afraid of Michael Michael’s toothpick? Is he regretting the coat?
One thing I gotta say: These are the most racially-inclusive gangs I’ve ever seen. White dudes, Black dudes, Hispanics, all united in a quasi-homosexual desire to rule the city.
1:06: Michael Jackson lying in bed fully dressed, singing to the wall about his disgust with the state of his hometown. The room is poorly furnished and feels like a flophouse. There’s an ashtray on the nightstand. This is foreshadowing. This city’s a tinderbox, ready to blow. Michael’s gonna light the match.
1:11: The two gangs moving purposefully through the dark city, down alleyways and past closed storefronts. The city sleeps, or perhaps hides, from the forces moving inexorably on a collision course. The few unfortunate souls who happen to be out are swept up and absorbed by the masses, fresh kindling for the fire.
1:24: An old man peeks out his blinds as the city comes alive with the sounds of a mob marching in designer boots. His expression says everything: afraid but mesmerized. Deep down, in a secret place below the level of consciousness, I suspect he yearns to join them.
1:27: Michael Jackson suddenly sits up in bed. He’s had a revelation. He must become the change he wants to see in the world. His bedroom wall is a mirror and he’s been addressing himself the whole time.
He leaps to his feet and poses. No longer will he cower indoors while the city bleeds.
A strong man of conviction is needed to end this pointless bloodshed. Since there is no such person, Michael instead will disarm the gangs with his silky voice and sultry moves.
1:46: The least intimidating gang members you’ve ever seen stand around, waiting to be picked up. Strong “last to be picked” energy from this crew. They look like rejected Grease 2 extras.
They pile into a pickup truck already overloaded with dudes. Sitting on Michael Michael’s right is Fedora, from the opening scene. I’d mistakenly assigned him to Freddie Richie’s gang. It’s obvious, in hindsight, that these two are simpatico. Same color scheme, which says everything in this city.
5 On the surface, it seems odd that a bunch of tough-looking Black dudes would follow a skinny White guy who unironically chews on a toothpick. Then you remember that this is “Beat It.” Of course they’d follow the prettiest one.
1:55: Michael Jackson steps out of his apartment dressed for battle: red leather jacket festooned with zippers and glittery shoulders. He goes to the diner and the pool hall, I guess because he wants to try to stop the conflagration before it starts. Alas, he spent too long staring at his own reflection in the bedroom wall. Both places are empty.
Michael dances around the venues. I don’t think he’s taking this very seriously.
2:50: A pair of garage doors slide open and Michael Michael’s gang steps into an abandoned warehouse. The air is hazy because, again, it’s 1983 and people be smoking. Although it’d be just like Michael Michael to bring in a fog machine so he can make a dramatic entrance.
2:59: Wide shot of Michael Michael’s crew. Even with the haze and at a distance, there’s nothing intimidating about these guys. It looks like an audition line for the Village People.
3:00: I think we found the Crips and Bloods.
A long pan of the front rank of Freddie Richie’s gang. Tough-looking, less flamboyantly-dressed dudes sprinkled with guys who are obviously there because they can dance. Example:
3:10: Freddie Richie with an all-time entrance, riding into the warehouse on a forklift, king-like, literally above the throng, backed by an incredible guitar solo from Eddie freaking Van Halen.
Televisions typically exploded during this scene. It was just too much awesome. That’s why 80s TVs were encased in solid wood. It was our only defense against such power.
3:21: Michael Michael and Freddie Richie back towards each other, sorta like a reverse duel. They can’t stand even looking at each other. How did this beef start? It feels like something more than just fighting over turf. Someone was wronged, and this old-fashioned bloodletting is the only way to square that debt.
Looking at these guys face to face, you instinctively understand why Freddie rolled in on a forklift. He had to up his game. Michael Michael is so effortlessly cool. Dude’s rolling into a fight to the death with a toothpick dangling out of his mouth and a ‘Pure Trash’ button on his jacket. Also, that hair.
3:24: The combatants are tied together at the wrist and pop switchblades. This is going to be close quarters. Thunderdome style. Let’s get ready to rummmmbbbllleee!
I haven’t been this hyped for a fight since that part in The Phantom Menace where Darth Maul is waiting for Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.6
Freddie and Michael dance around each other, trying to find an opening. Or maybe just dancing? I’ll be honest, I don’t think their hearts are really in it. It’s like this is all a charade to tie these men up and let them writhe against one another.
Hmm.
3:42: Michael Jackson descends from the warehouse’s second story. Did he come in through the roof, a lyrical Batman come to clean up this city? Or is this all symbolism? Michael coming down from his ivory tower, burdened with knowledge and silky-smooth moves, seeking to share wisdom with the unwashed masses.
3:49: Michael Jackson steps between the two men and they actually let him, showing the sort of deference one gives royalty. He’s the King of Pop, and that’s the ultimate authority in this town. To deny him is tantamount to treason.7
Michael explains it doesn’t matter who started the beef. It’s time to squash it. Michael Michael and Freddie Richie immediately fall into line. They know all the moves. They’ve known all along. This whole time they’ve been looking for a reason to give up this pointless conflict and bring sweet music to this city.
As Michael Jackson once famously said, “I’m a lover, not a fighter.” That motto speaks to the secret heart of these stylistically stoic warriors. They never wanted to fight. Expectation drove them to this rundown warehouse. Tradition put the switchblades in their hands. But deep down, all they wanted was to shake their hips, kick their legs, and make vaguely masturbatory gestures with their hands.
4:18: Oh shit! This guy is so moved, he’s having a musical seizure.
I’d somehow simultaneously completely forgotten about this guy and also discovered he was lurking in the dark recesses of my mind this whole time. I remember this dude! By which, I remember mimicking this move for several years when I was a kid. I don’t know if it was because I was inspired by his convulsions or because he’s easily the nerdiest-looking guy here. I, too, wore enormous glasses that took up half my face.
I was a young nerd looking for a hero, and this guy came stuttering into my life.
4:22: Michael Jackson teaches his lackeys the new language of these streets. If you danced to “Kumbaya,” it would probably look like this.
Imagine all the wars that could’ve been averted if only Michael Jackson had been there to step between countries and quietly rebuke them with the fury of his dance. MTV must not be broadcast in Russia, because there’s no way Putin invades Ukraine if he’s seen “Beat It.”
Michael Jackson and his entourage shimmy and shake until the screen goes dark. There’s no sign of any Crips or Bloods. They were only in the scene that resembled a lineup. Maybe that was the extent of their acting ability. Or maybe they left after Michael Jackson emasculated them by implying that within every gang member is a man who wants to dance. And that their refusal to dance is the only thing perpetuating the conflict.
I’m obviously making light of the idea, and the premise of this video, but I also think the world would be a better place if it was true.
I just spent almost 3000 words dunking on this music video—because it’s ridiculous—but I have to be honest: This song rocks, and the video is actually pretty awesome. It’s silly, and completely unrealistic, but that’s okay. I love watching it. It makes me happy.
There’s a tangible innocence to the “Beat It” music video. Realistic or not, I’d rather believe in a world where people of all races can come together and settle our differences by first recognizing that we’re not that different. That music has the power to bring down walls. That we all secretly want to dance.
It’s a hokey ideal, and feels impossibly out of reach in America 2025. But I still want to believe that maybe, someday, this will truly be a land of the free.
Until then, I’m going to lay in my bed and angrily sing at my bedroom wall.
My top 5 Michael Jackson songs:
Human Touch
Rock With You
Beat It
Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough
P.Y.T.
My tastes skew heavily towards his earlier work.
Thriller is pretty unassailable as a music video.
I’m old enough to remember when restaurants had smoking sections, and even before that when non-smokers just sat there breathing secondhand smoke and nobody really thought anything of it.
This is such a crazy moment, I can’t believe I haven’t written about it before. Clark abdicates his powers in order to sleep with Lois Lane. That in itself isn’t that odd; dudes will agree to just about anything to get laid. What I find baffling is the implication that Clark has to give up his powers to sleep with her. That means his super-powered penis would straight up kill her! Is it because he’s truly the man of steel? Because he’d be shooting bullets? Would she just not survive the humping?
As I said, it begs for an entire essay.
One of the great injustices of our time is that you can’t footnote a caption, forcing this workaround.
Anyway: I assume you know who Lando is. If not, I question how you got here, and why you stay. Lobot is Lando’s cyborg manservant. We meet him briefly in The Empire Strikes Back. I don’t think he has a single line of dialogue, but there’s a scene where Lobot and Lando exchange a look, and you just know a boatload of nonverbal dialogue passes between them. And, because I am who I am, I’ve never really stopped thinking about it.
How long do you think Darth Maul was standing behind those doors, waiting for the Jedi to arrive? 30 minutes? An hour? Do you think he had any pre-fight jitters, or was he too busy deciding if he should wink when he unveiled his two-sided lightsaber?
What does capital punishment look like in a town ruled by the King of Pop, one in which the city’s hardened criminals actually just want to dance? Is a broken ankle too harsh? Do they tie them to a chair and play “Dancing Queen,” knowing the inability to move will slowly drive them mad?
This was a fun read, Eric! I had to rewatch the video as it's been dog years! I also looked at the long version of the Bad video, and shocked to see it was directed by Martin Scorsese and written by Richard Price! Well, duh. Get the best, MJ!
Eric - PLEASE do BAD 🙏 Explain why the dance fight takes place in a parking garage. I really always needed to understand!! Why is NO ONE parked in that garage??