Each year around Halloween, in spite of Michael Jackson being a pederast, the same obligation to dredge up the “Thriller” video arises. With almost as much force as MJ’s erection in front of certain boys. And yet, because Jackson is one of the few entertainers that can’t be “cancelled” (perhaps stemming in part from the fact that he’s already dead and “too legendary”), “Thriller” remains untouchable. A testament to how Jackson innovated the music video medium by making it as cinematic as possible, going so far as to ask the same director of An American Werewolf in London to helm the project. Incidentally, John Landis appears to have a soft spot for sexual predators based on also signing a petition in 2009 to release Roman Polanski after he was arrested in Switzerland for the 1977 rape of thirteen-year-old Samantha Geimer.
The influence and impact of “Thriller” is not in question. But maybe what should be is giving a new video a chance to shine around this seasonal holiday. And why not Christine and the Queens’ roughly thirteen-minute (with credits) masterpiece, La Vita Nuova? A short film that pays very clear homage to “Thriller,” while stripping the concept of all its associations with Jackson’s own, shall we say, inner monster. Rather than taking place on a Los Angeles set (including the Palace Theatre), La Vita Nuova opens on a rooftop that overlooks the vista of Paris. An emotionally expressive Christine (or “Chris”) proceeds to give us her all with interpretive dancing to the tune of her 2020 single, “People, I’ve Been Sad,” which kicks off the La Vita Nuova EP.
Directed by go-to collaborator Colin Solal Cardo, it doesn’t take long for a beast-like figure—referred to as The Faun (Félix Maritaud)—to appear behind Christine and take her in his arms. When she turns around, the beast seems to have vanished, leading her to pantomime as though someone is still there to be held. Falling back into her native French tongue, Christine ascends higher on the roof, finding The Faun again and resting her head in his lap. Although it briefly seems like this closeness is sending her into ecstasy, it’s as though Christine suddenly has an epiphany, sprouting up from her position to stare at the red-eyed Faun in disgust. Something about his false charm and betrayal as she holds out her hand to him (which he does not take) as a test prompts her to fall back from the roof as she segues into “Je disparais dans tes bras,” the lyrics of which say it all regarding her object of affection’s hypocrisy: “Tu ne pardonnes jamais rien aux autres.”
After the fall, she lands in the arms of some dancers in a studio, providing the perfect opportunity to go mano a mano (or main à main, in this case) with the choreography from “Thriller.” And thanks to Ryan Heffington (known for choreographing a few iconic videos for Sia), Christine and her backing dancers give Jackson and his zombies a run for their money. Gripping at each other viscerally, there are plenty of carnal dancing moments that also easily make one think of Luca Guadagnino’s version of Suspiria. And yes, The Faun appears again. It seems he is the one that conjures that strobe light and creates the collective urge to draw blood from Christine’s skin. When they finally break away from her, a flustered Christine whispers, “J’ai parlé de toi à mes amis. Ils ne m’ont pas crus.” Just as no one would believe Ola Ray if she told them that Michael Jackson was a flesh-eating zombie (a greater allegory for no one believing the boys who tried to accuse Jackson of sexual misconduct).
Staring at her hands to see where the blood went, she holds the same position for the transition to the next set, featuring her in a bombastic getup that would make Elton John swoon. In fact, she’s also sitting at a piano to play “Mountains (We Met).” A boom mic operator stands nearby, and it seems Christine might have a fetish as she chases the boom mic like a prostitute chases dick. Or like Jackson once chased child dick.
With the Palais Garnier as a primary backdrop, Christine and the Queens elevates her music to true art pop (in a way that Lady Gaga thinks she does, but if that were really true, she wouldn’t actually need to label an album: Art Pop) as she proceeds to use her body as its own instrument of expression. The Faun has returned once more to see her on the stage before we cut to Christine lying on the ground against another lavish background. All dressed in white, with blood-inspired maquillage, Christine dives into singing “Nada,” featuring the telling lyrics, “Why is it done in a day?/First you give me so much, and rot away.” Running through the palais (which could double as a set for a live action Beauty and the Beast—which this sort of is), the narrative intercuts her frantically descending the staircases with the scene of her still lying on the ground. Which leads us to wonder, at times, if perhaps she keeps finding herself back in the same place no matter how fast she runs. A metaphor for a doomed relationship if ever there was one.
When she finally makes it to the place she’s been trying to run—where The Faun lies prostrate—Christine is both tender and merciless toward the object of her reluctant affection. Casting some sort of “magic” upon him, she makes it so that blood pours from his eyes like tears. This seems to bring her orgasmic joy before she drags him in front of something like a tribunal. Standing there with The Faun in her arms like a reimagining of the pietà, Christine sings the opening to “La Nuova Vita,” “Voglio che tu mi tocchi con la tua rabbia/Voglio che tu mi tocchi con il tuo furore.” Some of the members of the “council” take The Faun off her hands and, all at once, she is dressed in an ensemble more akin to what Prince circa Purple Rain would wear as the tone of the song (melodically resembling Beyoncé’s “Sweet Dreams”—a single itself noted for bearing a similar electronic bassline to “Thriller”) shifts to one of jubilance and celebration. The choreography is thusly upbeat until Christine takes a brief moment to stare into the camera and show us that her eyes have become red like The Faun’s now…just in time for Caroline Polachek (who sings on the track) to show up and join in on the festivities. And as the two come together for a writhing, sexually-charged dance on the floor, it somehow reminds one of the image of Leelee Sobieski and Jeremy Jordan moving similarly during the prom scene of Never Been Kissed.
One lick of Caroline’s neck and all of Christine’s carnal energy is unleashed, allowing the horns of The Faun to now appear on her head, his essence transferred to her, it would seem. It is a final scene that offers a similar “twist” moment to the one in “Thriller” where we see that Ola’s nightmare was no nightmare at all (with Jackson possessing yellow-green eyes instead of red ones). Appropriately, Jackson’s video also clocks in at just over thirteen minutes with credits, as well as an intro title card that insists, “Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses the occult.” Christine and the Queens definitely wants to get the reverse message across. Perhaps because she doesn’t have anything “occultish” to hide about herself in real life.
Regardless, we must all, for reasons largely political, still bow down to Jackson’s “Thriller” as not only the “ultimate” short film version of a music video (“scary” or otherwise), but as the go-to for this particular ghoulish month of the year. However, if audiences were willing to truly evolve away from this as the “quintessential” piece of pop culture for Halloween (and all year-round, really), Christine and the Queens’ La Vita Nuova ought to be the obvious runner-up.
