Even By Biopic Standards, Michael Is Bad: Review

The value of a great music biopic comes from the context it provides. It’s easy to love the songs of Michael Jackson, but what went into their creation? What did Michael have to endure in order to become one of the most famous and beloved artists of all time? The new biopic Michael, directed by Antoine Fuqua and starring Jackson’s real-life nephew Jaafar Jackson, shows only the most superficial interest in exploring those questions, leading to a truly vapid filmgoing experience.

The action begins in 1966, as the nascent Jackson 5 blossom into stars under the ruthless control of Joseph Jackson (Colman Domingo), who doesn’t hesitate to whip Michael with a belt in front of the whole family. Between his father’s abuse and the isolation that comes with being a very famous little boy, Michael is lonely — we know this, because he tells his mother (Nia Long) over one of many, many shared bowls of ice cream that he’s lonely. That’s why he adopts an increasingly wild collection of animals during his adolescence into adulthood, including the dramatic arrival of Bubbles the chimp, whose CGI recreation here never misbehaves and is free with his hugs and love.

The movie’s take on its central figure is that of a brilliant, abused little boy who clung to childhood trappings as an adult, his early successes overshadowed by his tyrannical father Joseph (Colman Domingo). The dramatic arc of the movie is reduced down to “Can Michael finally break free of his father’s control?” Spoiler alert: He does. Then in 1988, he performs “Bad,” smiling on stage as he does, and the movie ends with the caption “His Story Continues.”

Taken as pure spectacle, Michael does its best to give the audience a taste of what it must have been like to see Jackson perform live. During the many musical moments peppered throughout the movie, Fuqua keeps his direction simple and clean, with plenty of wide shots that leave no question as to how good Jaafar Jackson is at dancing. He throws himself into recreating the classic dance moves of his uncle with notable verve; the rest of his performance slides too much into mimicry more often than not, but there’s never a sense that he’s being pushed beyond his abilities as an actor.

As for Colman Domingo, there’s no denying that he’s one of our finest working actors today, but a villain this one-dimensional is an impossible challenge for anyone. It’s the screenplay by John Logan that’s the real villain of the piece: Writing a script that pleases everyone involved with the estate of a deceased artist is without question a challenge, but Logan’s solution is to reject any effort whatsoever at subtext, every character expressing exactly how they feel in the bluntest possible terms.

Additionally, it almost feels like the screenplay should give a legal settlement a co-writing credit, because the version of Michael being released into theaters feels wildly different in tone and approach than what was originally made — a movie that did at least plan to tackle some of the darker moments of Jackson’s life and career.

As Variety recently reported, the original cut opened with Michael under police lights, after being accused of child molestation. That sequence, along with others focusing on the impact of the 1993 accusations on Jackson’s career, were shot before lawyers for Jackson’s estate realized that storyline violated a clause in the settlement with accuser Jordan Chandler, forbidding any depiction or mention of Chandler in a film. The requisite reshoots cost the estate $15 million.

Considering how facile and shallow the existing movie is, it almost feels like a good thing that we won’t get to see Logan’s version of those events. Yet the resulting narrative is flattened down to essentially a prelude, with its most dramatic sequence coming from the infamous 1984 Pepsi commercial shoot in which Jackson’s hair caught on fire.

Other tabloid fodder from Jackson’s life is present — there’s the dramatization of his first nose job (and hints at subsequent ones), the aforementioned menagerie he accumulates at the family home, and numerous scenes in which he spends time in childrens’ hospitals and toy stores. The latter scenes are presented in a matter-of-fact way, with no effort made to explore their potential meaning.

The one spark of life Michael finds comes from the artist’s relationship with John Branca (Miles Teller), who Michael immediately identifies as someone who will be able to do the things Michael can’t (or doesn’t want) to do. It becomes a reliably amusing bit, Michael nudging Branca to play the heavyweight, though all the joy of it gets sucked out by a later cameo by Mike Myers as CBS Records CEO Walter Yetnikoff, who bullies MTV into getting Michael’s videos onto the nascent cable channel.

It’s a scene that at least speaks to some of the obstacles Jackson faced in his career — MTV, we’re told, was reluctant at that time to spotlight Black artists. But it’s also some of the least subtle work of Myers’ career, a scene that gets resolved in a deeply cartoonish manner. This movie did not need another reason to compare it to Bohemian Rhapsody — another biopic heavily influenced by the estate, and those who survived to tell the deceased artist’s story.

The treatment of the other Jackson siblings is one of this movie’s strangest elements. First of all, Janet Jackson has been entirely excluded from this narrative — LaToya is the only sister present on screen. The other brothers, meanwhile, are pretty much treated as props and/or scenery. None of them dare to challenge Joseph’s abuse of Michael. None of them show any ill will towards Michael as his solo career takes off. There’s one scene where only three of the brothers are present and it takes a few minutes before the absence of the fourth is explained — it takes place during the time period when Jermaine remained with Motown Records. We know this, because Joseph snarls something about Jermaine still being with Motown.

Everything happens in the least interesting fashion, dodging any real effort at insight. Like, in the lead-up to shooting the “Thriller” album, there’s a montage of Michael watching old horror movies, including one featuring Vincent Price. What could have been actually interesting is a scene dramatizing Vincent Price recording his vocals — though that might have brought up Price’s resentment over not feeling properly compensated for his contribution. (Fun fact: It was Peggy Lipton, Quincy Jones’ wife, who connected Price with Jackson.)

At least the sequence recreating the shooting of the “Thriller” music video includes one touch of Michael’s talent and savvy: He passes the message to director John Landis (only seen in shadowy profile) that the “Thriller” video needs wider shots, so people can see the dancers’ feet moving. (Advice Fuqua took to heart in his own direction.) Quincy Jones is a figure in this story, played by Kendrick Sampson, but exploring Jackson’s work with him and other collaborators isn’t nearly as important as celebrating him as a solo genius.

It is possible to extrapolate a theme of sorts from Michael: It’s a movie about a young man who just wants to be loved, but doesn’t trust the way love appears in his life, due to abuse or the perils of fame. That he existed in this seemingly innocent state while helping to craft some of pop music’s greatest, sexiest love songs is a fascinating dichotomy that goes unexplored. Like so many other essential unanswered questions about Jackson’s life.

Because the Jackson estate controls the rights to his music, it was always foolish to hope that Michael would explore the full complexity of its subject: With biopics like this, you can either get the warts-and-all version or the genuine “Thriller” — there’s no in-between. It’s that, not the legal settlement, which truly doomed this movie on a creative level. This is a movie terrified to explore the interiority of its protagonist, and that approach will work just fine for the fans who just want to watch an uncomplicated ramble of a movie that plays all the hits. That’s why artists like Michael Jackson remain immortal beyond death — no matter what we might know about their lives, great songs will always endure.

Michael debuts in theaters on April 24th. Check out the latest trailer below.