It’s finally here: Michael, the long-awaited biopic about the King of Pop. The Gloved One. MJ. The man with maybe the greatest PR team of all time.
Antoine Fuqua’s Michael is well-performed, but extremely safe. Jaafar Jackson is tasked with the impossible job of playing the second most popular person to ever live, and most of the time, he makes the performance work. I didn’t believe I was looking at Michael at all times, but it felt like something in between. Maybe an animated character, or an alien mimicking Michael. It’s hard to explain, but my point is that he embodied Michael far better than I’ve ever seen any other human do.
Colman Domingo gives the film some of its best moments as Joe Jackson, completely losing himself within the character. But the movie itself keeps backing away from anything too human or uncomfortable. It’s clear that the film either doesn’t believe in its audience enough to provide nuance to Joseph Jackson, or is too committed to a traditional story and needed a ‘villain’ to push the plot forward. But those kinds of typical storytelling techniques should be avoided when making a movie about such an atypical person.
For a film called Michael, it rarely feels interested in Michael Jackson. It progresses through his life as if it had a checklist in its pocket. Childhood trauma? Check. Motown? Check. Moonwalk? Check. Thriller? You bet. The glove, the hat, the brothers, the father, the mother, Quincy Jones, Berry Gordy, and the famous moments are all there, but it felt more like a Marvel Easter Egg than a real character study.
My biggest issue is the family. Maybe that sounds unfair because the movie is titled Michael, not The Jacksons, but family is not a side character in his story. For Michael Jackson, it was the catalyst, the closest thing he had to normalcy, the motivation, and the cage. The film tells us multiple times that Michael loves his brothers and his family, but outside of fleeting moments on the couch with his mother and villainously harsh interactions with his father, we don’t get much exploration.
His brothers are mostly orbiting bodies with afros, often relegated to playing basketball in the background while Michael hums a tune. We’re told what Michael values, but we never see it. We don’t spend enough time watching him create, obsess, borrow, study, compete, or even doubt himself. Instead, we see his affirmations before recording, followed by a 3-minute montage backed by his greatest hits.
There’s virtually no exploration of his relationship to the artists who shaped him, like James Brown, or the artists that motivated him, like Prince. There’s not much of a dive into his writing process either. The movie wants us to understand the icon, but it skips over the interior life, habits, routines, and beliefs that made him iconic.
Circling back to the lack of faith in the audience, Michael feels the need to show him reading Peter Pan every 25 minutes, foreshadow Michael’s drug addiction, and underline conclusions and connections the audience could’ve made themselves. It doesn’t trust us to notice patterns, so it points them out. After a while, the movie becomes a hard watch because it almost feels like it’s explaining Michael Jackson to people who already bought a ticket to a Michael Jackson movie.
A little past the halfway point, it hit me: Michael was not made to explore Michael Jackson’s life. It was made to reinforce his mythos. There were never going to be never-before-seen moments. No drawn-out conversations in Gary, Indiana, about what it felt like to be a child carrying an entire family’s future. No exploration into the impact of being around fame, pressure, grown men, industry executives, and screaming crowds as a child. No delve into the psyche. Not even unreleased or widely unknown songs.
Every character feels like a mannequin exhibiting their most exaggerated traits. Even the gang members during the filming of “Beat It” are laughably cartoonish. One Blood steps forward, gives Michael a quick lesson, and says, “This is called poppin’,” before breaking into a three-second dance. Then a Crip answers by sliding into a C-walk, and explaining, “This is C-walkin’,” before sneering at the Blood like the movie just remembered these two are supposed to hate each other. A few seconds later, Michael starts dancing, everyone magically falls in line, and the camera cuts to an unnamed gang member saying, “My n****,” with half the line buried under crowd chatter. It’s half-baked reality like this that pretty much represents the entire film.
I can talk all day long about what Michael lacks (The Wiz, Janet, Van Halen, Rod Temperton, lawsuits, or a portrayal of what Michael was like when no cameras were rolling; I really could talk all day long about this), but that doesn’t automatically make the movie worthless. It just changes the discussion.
I cannot fairly review the film if I’m thinking about what movie I would have made, the movie I think should have been made, or even the movie fans probably deserved. The real question is simpler: Did Fuqua succeed in making Michael Jackson feel larger than life?
At times, yes. The film is at its best when it leans into spectacle. The Motown 25 performance, “Human Nature,” and “Bad” performance all understand the assignment. Engaging visuals paired with blinding flashes of light are when I feel like I’m watching a movie about someone larger than life. For some reason, these stylistic choices are used sparingly, while flat, almost comedically awkward close-ups of the crowd suck the energy out of certain scenes. There are things that I simply must praise. Using deconstructed basslines and melodies as the score was an amazing touch. There are also things I won’t even waste my time addressing, like the strange-looking CGI ‘Bubbles.
Michael is by no means a boring or bad movie, no pun intended. But legal caution and a lack of artistic direction cause it to fall pretty short of what it should’ve been. The music does a lot of heavy lifting. So do the costumes, the choreography, and the audience’s built-in relationship with the man.
This movie isn’t for film bros, music aficionados, or even Michael Jackson fans. This movie is for everyone, and that’s its biggest flaw. The music should be for everyone. The film should be for those who care. Overall, Michael is worth seeing. Seeing immediately? Probably not. Even as a huge Michael Jackson fan, I couldn’t say I felt truly vindicated or satisfied watching the film.
Delivered by Cullen Avent
