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Michael Jackson planned to make two feature films including one based on his hit song "Thriller" once he finished his worldwide tour, according to Kenny Ortega, the director of the concert that was canceled in the wake of the entertainer's death in June.

Ortega told the overflow audience after a special screening of "This Is It," that he and Jackson had plans underway to do a musical remake of "Legs Diamond," a Peter Allen gangster saga from the 1980s, and to do "a full length movie of 'Thriller,'" one of Jackson's most successful music videos.

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Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."  Margaret Mead

*Mo*

  • Guest
Thank for sharing!

And...welcome back!!  :D
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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*

~Souza~

Under what rock did you hide the last couple of weeks? LOL!

I would love to see the full length version of Thriller...
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Well to be fair what's going on since June 25th is a bit of a Thriller!!!
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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“The greatest education in the world is watching the masters at work.”

Quote from: "~Souza~"
Under what rock did you hide the last couple of weeks? LOL!

I would love to see the full length version of Thriller...
i hope this is the full length version...lol

i wonder if the 2nd movie is the one that has omer playing him and showes his life up until the dangerous era?
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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the arabian nights

  • Guest
Have any of MJ's tour dvd's ever shown alot of behind the scenes stuff before?
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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*

Grace

Wouldn't TII also mean Thriller II ?

And what about this teaser
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Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Create your day. Create the most astounding year of your life. Be the change you want to see in the world! L.O.V.E.
***********************************************************************************************
"I am tired, I am really tired of manipulation." Michael Jackson, Harlem, New York, NY, July 6, 2002
***********************************************************************************************
******* Let's tear the walls in the brains of this world down.*******

Time to BE.

I think he is saying all this to make all believe that MJ did have plans and that he is dead.
But we are not so easily fooled and know different eh?  :D
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Mungu awape imani.
God give you faith.

*

CC

Quote from: "Grace"
Wouldn't TII also mean Thriller II ?

And what about this teaser
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TII = THRILLER II  :o
VERY GOOD POINT!
ABOUT THE TEASER... I'M WAITING... ;)
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Some men see things as they are and say: WHY?
I dream things that never were and say: WHY NOT?

i saw that artical too and i caught in the artical that the thriller movie was going to be in 3D which i thought maybe that we got a sneak peak into that when they film part of thriller in 3D  in TII movie
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Would it not be fantastic that all we have seen with the hospital, ambulance, Dr. Murray, memorial, funeral, and all of us investigating everything is used to plan a HUGE Thriller 11 comeback on the big screen? :roll:
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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*

sweet1

Quote from: "lynnandsofee"
Would it not be fantastic that all we have seen with the hospital, ambulance, Dr. Murray, memorial, funeral, and all of us investigating everything is used to plan a HUGE Thriller 11 comeback on the big screen? :roll:

This entire saga is Thriller II imo. It reminds of me of the shortfilm Liberiangirl. Everyone got an invitation to show up in a backlot at a Michael's request. Everyone is talking amongst themselves asking where's Michael. I often wonder which Michael we are inquiring about too? The performer or director?  At the end Michael is lower from the ceiling in a directors chair behind a camera. He says, "cut! that's a wrap!" I wonder when this all will be a wrap? Keep the Faith!  :roll:
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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Just a bit of info about "Legs" Diamond...

John "Legs" Diamond, alias Jack Moran (July 10, 1897-December 18, 1931), aka Gentleman Jack, was a famous Irish-American gangster in New York City during the Prohibition era. A bootlegger and close associate of gambler Arnold Rothstein, Diamond survived a number of attempts on his life between 1919 and 1931, causing him to be known as the "clay pigeon of the underworld." In 1930, Diamond's nemesis Dutch Schultz remarked to his own gang, "Ain't there nobody that can shoot this guy so he don't bounce back?" Jack Diamond was not related to Lucchese crime family associate, Stanley Diamond.

Diamond was known for leading a rather flamboyant lifestyle. He was a very energetic individual; his nickname "Legs" derived either from his being a good dancer or from how fast he could escape his enemies. For a gangster, Diamond was also loyal,but was not averse to double-crossing someone when he saw fit. His wife, Alice Diamond was never supportive of his lifestyle, but didn't do much to dissuade him from it. Diamond was a womanizer; his best known mistress was showgirl and dancer Marion "Kiki" Roberts. The public loved Diamond; he was Upstate New York's biggest celebrity at the time.

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I can see why there was some interest in this fellow, LOL... ;)
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."  Margaret Mead

*

teensy

Thanks for the info Kenny.  ;)
Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Guest
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*

sweet1

Deepok Chopta had this article on  yahoo that I copied and pasted so you could let me know what you think? Keep the Faith!

I was a junior in highschool when my friend Michael Jackson asked me to go on tour with him. He was spending the summer in Europe staging the largest ever (at the time) rock tour for his latest album DANGEROUS. I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me go. We'd known Michael for a few years by then and grown quite close. He'd even come and stayed at our house in suburban Boston for a few days. Who could forget the time he clumsily tried to make his bed in the guestroom in the morning in an effort to impress my mother so he might be invited back? Or the ill-fated breakfast he tried to cook for my sister and I that we forced down our throats with strained smiles as he carefully watched us? Aside from being the biggest celebrity on the planet, he seemed like a pretty good guy so eventually my parents relented and let me go.

To describe it in one word: impossibly awesome (because one word is not nearly enough). To be seventeen and the sidekick of the greatest rockstar the world had ever known was indescribable. Paris, Rome, London, Munich, Athens and more. Every city we went to essentially shut down to host him. Where Michael roamed, a million cameras followed. A buzz reverberated and the bright light of fame trailed. And I felt the halo effect, often donning one of his iconic fedoras, his signature sunglasses, and one of the countless slick tour jackets Pepsi supplied us with. Private planes, police escorts, marching soldiers (an inexplicable MJ favorite), Michael was more than happy to share his celebrity because he had more than he'd ever know what to do with. He joked that I could ride "shotgun" with him anytime I liked. He knew I was living vicariously through him and he was happy for it.

Arriving to stadiums hours before showtime, while he'd have to go through elaborate pre-show routines and wardrobe sessions, I'd wander out onto the stage where dozens upon dozens of sound techs, engineers, and roadies would be rigging the massive stage and prepping the show. Even four or five hours before showtime, thousands of fans would push as far forward as possible so as to get as close to MJ when the show began. You've seen the videos of crazy fans, dehydrated and dazed, having to be dragged out of the crowd by hustling paramedics. I saw it up close and personal - even got involved once or twice when fans started dropping by the dozens.

During the show itself, sometimes I'd hang around just off the stage watching Michael kill it. The man knew how to perform and it was like a meditation to just to witness it. At other times, I'd hang in his dressing room, outfitted to the nines with candy, orange juice, and video games.

After the show, Michael would retreat back to the dressing room too and then be forced to stand around awkwardly and greet VIPs, celebrity guests, sponsors and others who'd earned backstage privileges. It was easy to see that he was far more comfortable singing and dancing in front of a 100,000 strong than socializing with a dozen.

After those formalities, he and I would retreat back to his hotel, usually the biggest and best suite in the whole city. Michael almost always had the place stocked with old movies, more candy, and more orange juice. Even as thousands of adoring fans chanted his name from the streets below, we'd chat about music, movies, video games, girls, and occasionally the meaning of life.

But then something unexpected happened. The awesomeness wore off for me. Believe it or not, I started to get bored of sitting up in that suite with just MJ. And then I started to feel claustrophobic. I was seventeen years old, in freaking Europe, surrounded by a rock band, sexy dancers who could bend in all sorts of ways and backup singers who hit octaves I fantasized about. They liked to rage every night after the show and openly talked about their exploits the following day. Soon enough, I gained the courage to ask Michael if he minded if I slipped out with some of the others after his shows.

Not only did he say it was okay, he encouraged me. Outfitted with his fedora, sunglasses, and tour jackets, getting the best table at the best restaurants, into the VIP sections of the hottest clubs, and the adulation of all the local girls was easier than could be imagined. Often when I got back from a night on the town, Michael would call me in my hotel room and summon me. I'd head up to his suite and proceed to narrate my night's misadventures to him and debrief him on all the latest gossip surrounding his band. I didn't really need to dramatize my exploits, but I did anyway because I knew that he was living vicariously through me and I was happy for it.

It's a cliché to say that your highschool summers are the most memorable of your life, but I challenge anyone to say how mine could not be. For years, I wore the badge of that summer and my many exploits over it boldly and boastfully. Then of course, as time passed and Michael became embroiled in scandals involving teen boys, all of a sudden my summer as his teen sidekick didn't have the same glamour to it. Now it was a stigma, something I treasured but certainly did not tout.

Over the years my brotherhood with Michael evolved. When I went to college in NYC and lived uptown, he lived at the Four Seasons in midtown and I'd see him regularly, sharing with him collegiate exploits and adventures. Years later when he became a father, he invited me over to Neverland to see "the greatest thing he ever created" - his son Prince. More time passed. I watched as he endured the agony of his dramatic fall from grace, his resurrection through his children Prince, Paris, and Blanket, and then once again the agony of his descent into the shadows of things he couldn't control.

During the last years of his life, I got to see his creativity up close and personal once again. He and I were working on a graphic novel together entitled THE FATED. He had big plans for it. One day he wanted to direct it as a film, impress his mentor Steven Spielberg, and have his favorite actor Will Smith be in it. It was classic MJ in terms of process, intense at times, with intermittent months of total inaction in between. The story of an iconic Rockstar worn out by the agony of his fame, driven to the most desperate measures, only to discover that his super-stardom has him "fated" for far more than just fame and fortune. Of course, I eventually realized Michael was giving me a window into his own personal allegory and I felt privileged to help record it. Sadly, we never were able to complete the story and I was left instead with an eerie tale without a proper ending (note: I hope with the assistance of Michael's Estate - in the hands of some very capable and conscious stewards - that we'll one day be able to share The Fated with all the dignity it and Michael deserves).

Like The Fated, we never got to see a proper ending to Michael's tale. Instead there's a tangled legacy, the bright light of fame shining over the tumbled necropolis of unfounded allegations twisted around the neverending tenderness for his own children. it's funny to me how in the last year, in death Michael has been canonized by many of the same commentators who were so relentless in tearing him down while he lived. He'd see the irony in it and call them bad names - the man could curse like a drunken sailor.

One night while on that tour with him, toward the end when I was getting ready to go back to school and the real world, Michael asked me if I was glad that I had come, even though I couldn't stay for the whole tour. He knew I was sad that I wouldn't get to stay until the very end. Still, it was an insane question and I told him so. "Are you kidding?" I said. "Every second I was here with you was a privilege. Thank you for letting me ride shotgun even for a little while."

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