I went into Michael as both a critic and a lifelong MJ fan. As a critic? It’s decent. As a fan? I had a great time.
Directed by Antoine Fuqua and starring Jaafar Jackson as adult Michael — with Juliano Valdi playing the younger version — Michael covers a massive stretch of the King of Pop’s life, from those early Gary, Indiana days hustling with the pre-Jackson 5 crew all the way through the Bad Tour in the late ’80s. That’s a lot of ground to cover in two hours, and the film knows it. So instead of getting bogged down in talking scenes and dramatic exposition, this flick basically becomes a wall-to-wall concert experience. Out of the full runtime, you’re probably getting an hour and twenty minutes of pure music. Song to song to song, barely catching your breath in between.
As a fan? That’s exactly what I came to see.
Jaafar Jackson came to play. He puts on his uncle’s soft voice, that awkward-but-magnetic energy, and when he tapped into that superstar mode? It was something else. But what really stood out was exactly how the abuse from Joe Jackson influenced the way Michael saw himself. Colman Domingo as Joe is genuinely menacing, and Antoine Fuqua doesn’t hold back, showing his abuse early on. Young Juliano Valdi delivers some genuinely heartbreaking work in that sequence, giving the audience a sympathetic window into the pain that plagued Michael his entire life. While tough to watch, the Training Day director is effective in showing how MJ’s insecurities about his nose, skin, and body all stemmed from his father’s relentless criticism.
As a critic? A lot of the dialogue scenes are lightweight. A lot of repetitive beats of seeing Mike fighting his dad about the contract, doing charity events, visiting sick kids in the hospitals, linking up with LA gang members (which, by the way, is a HILARIOUS scene). But here’s the thing: most biopics do this. Straight Outta Compton fluffed it up. Bohemian Rhapsody fluffed it up. That’s just the genre.
Are there omissions? Of course. Janet Jackson did not approve the use of her likeness in this movie. Thus, whenever one of the Jackson sisters appears on screen, the characters deliberately say “LaToya” repeatedly to avoid confusion. A similar situation with Diana Ross. Thus, there’s no sequence highlighting the filming of The Wiz, a huge MJ moment that a lot of fans were about to see. The original third act was reportedly set to address the beginning of the accusation, but it had to be reworked for legal reasons. They pivoted to giving us a concert finale instead, and you know what? Four back-to-back Jaafar-as-Mike performance sequences in Dolby? That’s a trade-off I can live with.
The decision to break the story into parts rather than cramming cradle-to-grave into one film was ultimately the right call. We got time to live in the rise of MJ’s stardom and celebrate his legacy the way most of us actually consume Michael Jackson in the first place. Not with grief or controversy, but with joy.
I am not sure whether it’s original MJ recordings, Jaafar Jackson/Juliano Valdi voices, or some mixture of both. But whatever the recipe is, Mike’s voice just hits you straight in the chest. Seeing it in Dolby Cinema with those overhead speakers was remarkable. The sound mixing is pitch-perfect. By the third act, you genuinely feel like you’re sitting front row at a Michael Jackson concert. I’d also strongly recommend IMAX, since the film runs at a 1.9:1 aspect ratio, giving it epic big screen real estate that makes those performance sequences feel massive.
If you’re a Michael Jackson fan, come prepared for a full-blown concert experience. Bring the sequined gloves, the leather jackets, and the white tee. Come out in full MJ and celebrate us. If you’re a hater, this movie wasn’t made for you. So stay away, we don’t want you anyway.
