At this point in Hollywood history, we have to succumb to the notion that the “pop-star-as-IP” movie is the new status quo. Walk Hard lampooned the formula nearly 20 years ago, yet the music biopic limps on at its most formulaic. Sometimes, people just want to hear the hits—and who can blame them? But with the stakes this high, you’d hope for a film that shakes up the genre from within.
Unfortunately, Michael is not that movie. Directed by Antoine Fuqua, this biopic falls astonishingly short of even the genre’s low expectations. It does the one thing a movie about the most electric performer of the 20th century shouldn’t be able to do: it makes Michael Jackson boring.
A Story Trapped in the Edit
Michael Jackson needs no introduction, but a viewer who’s never heard of him might leave this film wondering what the fuss was about. This result is partially circumstantial. Much of the film was reportedly rewritten and reshot once the Jackson Estate realized that legal constraints prevented the film from directly addressing the child molestation allegations and subsequent court cases.
While the film remains respectful of the legal complexities and the sensitivity of these topics, removing them creates a narrative vacuum. These “alleged” events were once the dramatic heart of the script. Without them, we are left with a story that feels frictionless—a paper-thin highlight reel that robs its characters of their souls.
The Jackson 5 and the Shadow of Joe
The story begins in the ’60s with the formation of the Jackson 5. We see a young, adolescent Michael (played with genuine heart by Juliano Krue Valdi) managed by his domineering father, Joe Jackson (Colman Domingo).
This is where the film’s technical problems begin. In an effort to make the legendary Colman Domingo look exactly like the family patriarch, the production team saddled him with awkward, limiting prosthetics. It’s incredibly distracting; the makeup inhibits Domingo’s performance, giving him the appearance of a Dick Tracy villain rather than a complex father. It’s an accidental metaphor for the movie itself: a rigid mask placed over a human story.
The Problem of Pacing
You can practically set your watch to the movie’s rhythm. A new year appears on screen in art deco typeface, followed by a five-minute performance of a hit song—and then another, and another. While the music is undeniably great, the world outside Michael’s window seldom seems to exist. His brothers and bandmates are treated as window dressing, and even his sister Janet is notably absent.
Jaafar Jackson: An Accurate Impression, a Limited Performance
There is no ignoring the performance of Jaafar Jackson, Michael’s real-life nephew. He displays immense thoughtfulness in the star’s quieter moments, particularly when reflecting on his relationship with his father. However, the pursuit of a perfect “impression” hinders the drama.
Jaafar’s dialogue is largely constrained to a high falsetto that limits emotional range. Worse yet, the edit frequently cuts around him during his lines, using ADR (automated dialogue replacement) over wide shots or the back of his head. It feels less like a performance and more like an exercise in branding—similar to the documentary This Is It or the Broadway show MJ. It approaches Michael less as a person and more as a tourist attraction.
Hagiography and the “Whitewashing” Effect
There is hagiographic filmmaking, and then there is whatever Michael is. The film doesn’t just seek to make Jackson pure and altruistic; it turns him into a cartoonish caricature of a philanthropic genius. If a hurdle appears in his path—like MTV’s initial refusal to feature Black artists—it is resolved with miraculous ease.
Apart from a brief childhood scene involving a belt, the movie suggests Jackson lived an exceptionally easy life where his only woes were that he couldn’t collect enough animals for Neverland. A more honest film might have used formal flourishes to capture the “angelic” glow the filmmakers clearly wanted us to feel (think Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis), but Fuqua is a literalist. He lacks the visual verve to capture the dimensions of Jackson as a performer.
The “God Mode” Problem
When the movie strings together the classics—“Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” “Human Nature,” “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”—it’s impossible not to make unflattering comparisons to the real footage.
Jaafar Jackson simply doesn’t have the raw magnetism of his uncle (few people do). Fuqua captures culture-shifting moments, like the 1983 debut of the moonwalk during “Billie Jean,” with a cinematic lethargy. It feels like watching a rehearsal rather than the moment an artist entered “God Mode.” This was a move that should make you levitate from your seat; here, it just makes you check your watch.
The One Exception: “Beat It”
The sole exception to this routine is the “Beat It” sequence. Written by John Logan, this scene briefly explores Jackson’s creative impetus and how he viewed his environment and Black culture. For a few minutes, the movie cracks the code of why these songs mattered. But then, the film switches back to autopilot and moves on.
Verdict: A Legacy Trapped in Amber
3/10 Stars
Michael (or Bohemian Jacksody, as some might call it) is a film of listlessness. No matter where you stand on Jackson as a person or the “alleged” controversies of his life, this film is the opposite of who he was. He was an iconic, controversial, and electric figure. To make him uninteresting is the greatest disservice a biopic can do.
The film ends early in his career, leaving the door open for a sequel. But given the hollow nature of this first installment, that promise feels more like a threat. Jackson remains a character trapped in amber, his insecurities hovering in the distance rather than defining the man.
