Michael review – Still looking for the man in the mirror

There’s a scene about a third of the way into biographical drama Michael, where a ten-year-old Michael Jackson (Juliano Valdi) explains to his mother Katherine (Nia Long) why he calls his pets his friends. His human peers, Michael clarifies, don’t see him as a real person, and honestly, that assessment applies to viewers of the new musical biopic as well.

Michael may as well have been titled Saint Michael, because the Antoine Fuqua-directed film is wholly uncritical of its title figure – the music icon who took on the title of King of Pop in the 80s and 90s, thanks to his record-breaking album sales, pioneering approach to music videos, and incomparable vocal and dance talent. It’s not even that the movie whitewashes the reputation of Jackson, played as an adult by real-life nephew Jaafar Jackson, because it caps off its depiction of history (or HIStory) in 1988, long before child abuse allegations came to light.

Rather, it’s that Michael Jackson consistently appears too good to be true, or real, in Michael. The film provides reasons for Jackson’s loneliness, insecurities over his appearance, and refuge in childlike escapism, but this is hardly a character deep dive. On the music front, his talent is so immense and unquestionable that his biggest struggle is simply deciding on a title for his Thriller album. Meanwhile, as an individual, Michael is portrayed as a sensitive, loyal son, and a deeply compassionate person who always has time for his fans (especially children). He conducts hospital visits not as a PR stunt but because he genuinely cares, and converses one-on-one with patients in a sincere manner.

In the film’s biggest WTF moment, sure to trigger a post-screening fact check, Michael even stops the war between Los Angeles gangs the Bloods and the Crips. He accomplishes this by inviting them to watch a flamboyant dance choreography session, explains the unifying power of music, and then asks the gang members to appear in his next video.

With a half dozen Jacksons given executive producer credits on Michael, a lot about the film is hard to swallow. This includes the complete erasure of family members, like Janet, who didn’t want to be represented in the film.

Not helping matters is the fact that, in Michael, MJ is surrounded by cardboard versions of famous figures, who also don’t register as real people, and exist merely to enact Jackson’s instructions and advance the plot as swiftly as possible – often with a single scene appearance. So there’s Miles Teller as entertainment lawyer John Branca (another producer on the film); a barely recognisable Mike Myers as Walter Yetnikoff, the president of CBS Records; Kendrick Sampson as producer legend Quincy Jones; and even Deon Cole as promoter Don King. Of the supporting cast, KeiLyn Durrel Jones fares best as Bill Bray, Michael’s long-time bodyguard, if only because he makes more appearances across the film’s timeline.

Instead of embarking on psychological exploration, Michael’s thematic drama follows the lead of fellow rock and pop biopics, Rocketman, Bohemian Rhapsody, Deliver Me From Nowhere, and Better Man, which place emphasis on a complicated father-son dynamic, and the damaging effect of craving parental approval. If you need to sum up the plot of two-hour Michael, it’s that the film depicts the performer’s efforts to break away from the Jackson Five to pursue his own creative ambitions. And that means defying his domineering father Joe (played by Colman Domingo), who has long kept his family in line with a leather belt.

It’s notable that Michael comes from Bohemian Rhapsody producer Graham King, because that biopic also bent the truth to fit a more comfortable, crowd-pleasing formula. King has clearly realised that what audiences want is chart-topping music, because Michael is stuffed with recreations of the biggest Jackson hits, whether it’s through recording sessions, concert performances or music video productions.

Michael is energised by these scenes. However, as the film advances, they start to feel overly relied on to keep viewers engaged. The final performance even comes across as unnecessary and repetitive. With the film’s climax reached seconds before, and a key narrative box ticked, Michael delivers yet another full-length music number, instead of cutting to the credits on a high. It reeks of the filmmakers not knowing how to end the movie, other than with the promise of a sequel to continue MJ’s story.

Michael is not terrible, as some critics have claimed, but it’s certainly superficial. You can’t fault the uncanny performances (or impersonations) from Jaafar Jackson and Juliano Valdi, as well as the film’s spot-on recreation of an era, but the project is let down by its writing. And even the rousing song and dance numbers, which are especially spectacular on IMAX screens, start to outstay their welcome.

Michael is in cinemas from 24 March.