‘Michael’
Dir: Antoine Fuqua
Actors: Jaafar Jackson, Colman Domingo, Kat Graham, Miles Teller, Juliano Valdi
Rating: 3.5/5
In the love language of consumer ratings, I suspect, Michael would’ve been a three-star movie, even before it got made. At least for me.
Also, surely, across the world, that has had no so such universal pop-culture phenomenon — with influence expanding from cities to villages — as huge as MJ/Michael Jackson; in my lifetime, anyway.
Further, as Michael (Jaafar Jackson), in this movie, taking off in his solo career, tells his manager John Branca (Miles Teller) — while he wants to pack stadiums, he must steer away from all publicity. The work should speak for itself.
Citing the reclusive, silent-cinema star, Greta Garbo, he wishes to retain a mystery around himself. That mystique lives on. Does this authorised biopic cut through the fog to reveal the true, untold story of MJ (1958-2009)? Absolutely not!
With a longer lens, does it viscerally connect you with an altogether unique persona, blessed with an innately immeasurable gift to sing, move, like none else before, or since? Hell, yeah!
The empathetic, breathing portrait that emerges of Michael, under a warm spotlight, is as a complex man-child, with such stunted social skills, that even as an adult, he felt at one only with kids, and animals, that he’d regularly converse with. Which is mildly similar to the great Kishore Kumar, who used to chat with his plants!
Then again, genius itself is an anomaly — why should that not extend to life’s every sphere; if you can’t fathom one, why must you the other?
Michael’s story starts from the steel mill town, Gary, Indiana, 1966. The subtext is Black America, wherein a way for the Jackson siblings to transcend race was through talent alone.
The father formed a music band, Jackson 5, put them on tour, subsequently moved everyone out of the small town itself. Through this film, I learnt, that
up until MJ’s superhit track, Billie Jean (1983), even MTV wouldn’t feature Black artistes!
That li’l MJ was special (in every way) still, to be protected, was known to the family since birth. The fact of a Dangal-like mentor/father-figure, who mercilessly pushes a prodigy to the brink of perfection, seems a rather common story among musicians (as with the last singer I interviewed, Shilpa Rao).
Joseph Jackson, apparently, was that dad with a stick behind young, submissive MJ; wholly dominating his life. I don’t know to what extent has this oppressive relationship been reported, but this is a film directed by Antoine Fuqua.
And there’s one thing I’ve sorta felt about Fuqua — whether from his remarkable breakthrough, Training Day (2001), about a demonic cop; or the last movie I watched of his, Olympus Has Fallen (2013), with Washington under attack — 1990s Bollywood flows through his bloodstream!
In that vein, as a desi viewer, it’s easy to connect with the control-freak father (Colman Domingo), as pure-evil, super villain, tormenting MJ, for personal gains; or in the interest of the larger Jackson clan. He could well be an Amrish Puri type from Dance Dance, maybe! That’s the central conflict in
Michael.
The movie, of course, is absolutely American — merit thrives, when unbridled capitalism does. You watch the professional rise of MJ while labels, scouts aggressively punt on his natural appeal and a voice that can tame octaves.
His personal downfall concerned strong allegations of child sexual abuse, early ’90s onwards. But that’s beyond the remit of this particular picture, which stops at late ’80s. An expected sequel might shed better light on that. Trolls ought to zip up for now.
Also, while he led a deeply private life, as a performer, MJ’s been widely chronicled onscreen, including the musical anthology, The Moonwalker (1988), while he was alive.
For, what were most of his music videos, if not movies by themselves, including Thriller, directed by John Landis, that we watch being filmed, within this film.
Michael, as a movie, simply promises the giant IMAX experience for grandeur, with audiences pondering once again — why future generations will scarcely believe that such a one as this, ever in flesh and blood, moonwalked upon this earth!
I would’ve been fine even with concert tapes. That’s what Bryan Singer’s Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) wonderfully recreated did with Freddy Mercury & Queen.
What you get in return here is Jaafar Jackson. It’s one thing to mimic tics, mannerisms — quite another to become MJ himself!
Jaafar’s the son of MJ’s brother, Jermaine who, we learn from this movie, quit Jackson 5 early on. This boy, on the other hand, was born, 1996, simply to reincarnate his uncle onscreen for the world, in 2026. Just can’t believe this is a bloody debut!
