#40: MICHAEL

 

STARRING: Jaafar Jackson, Nia Long, Laura Harrier, Juliano Krue Valdi, Miles Teller and Colman Domingo. Written by John Logan. Directed by Antoine Fuqua. Budget $170 million. Running time 127 minutes.

I gotta say I was kinda worried that the new Michael Jackson bio-pic, Michael would gloss over the child abuse allegations, so it's good to see they're tackling it right off the bat with the film poster.

And so to the film. It's 1967 and domestic bully and patriarch, Joseph Jackson (Colman Domingo), a steel worker forces his five sons to form a band he calls the Jackson 5, just think if there'd only been three of them, then pop history would probably know them as the Jackson 3, or the Jackson Trio, which doesn't quite have the same ring, unless he'd launched his own chocolate covered biscuit bar, but I imagine he'd have been sued by United Biscuits who made the Trio bar if he did. Anyway, he didn't and they didn't and so we're left with this, the sanitised, glamourised, homogenised, Hollywoodised telling of the Pedo-Prince of Pop's life story, glossing over any impropriety or uncomfortable truth with a thick veneer of adulation, idol-worship and undying love. Structured like a 21st Century version of 1954 Glenn Miller Story, this is the classic sugary-sweet, warts and all (minus the warts and all), rags-to-riches story of little MJ, the PPoP from wide-eyed adorable pop poppet to 'on the verge of universal acclaim' in 1988, just short of all those completely innocent multi-million dollar payouts Micky (as he loved to be called) made to a whole slew of children for no apparent reason, apparently, and most certainly not because he liked to share his bed with them, no siree. ANYHOO, back to the plot. Bad Dad Jackson beats the band into shape, literally, they're signed by Motown, they have sell-out concerts across the US, shift a literal shit-tonne of albums and become megastars. Then Michael gets his nose fixed, visits kids in hospital, decides to eradicate gang violence with music, invents the moonwalk, makes a video with zombies, then gets blown up in a Pepsi ad, which is why all cans of Pepsi carry a 'Highly Flammable' warning (check it out if you don't believe me), and then Mikey does one more performance with his fam before finally setting off solo to make his fortune, build a creepy one-man fun fair and zoo and go slowly mad.

The trouble is this film is just the sugar coating, according to it, there's nothing to tarnish Jackson, or at least nothing worth noting and it's galling. I'm sure that if you're a fan of MJ then this film will be a masterpiece, a stunning celebration to him and his legacy but for the rest of us not blinded by his godhead, what of us?  

Well for me going in I thought that with the exception of Thriller, I wasn't a fan of his work and was pleasantly surprised to discover that actually I liked quite a lot of it, well the Jackson 5 stuff anyway, the pure Jackson stuff leaves me cold, a bit like this film did. It's well directed by Antoine Fuqua whose Equalizer trilogy I very much liked, and the performances are good, particularly Domingo and Jaafar Jackson, but there was no real depth to the proceedings, this is all surface, with the odd glimpse of something more, and it all feels a lot like a light paddle rather than a deep dive. I found the section with the young Michael Jackson by far the most interesting and entertaining but got a little bored by the adult Michael and his slow rise to the top, which plays like a 1950s biopic. Even his near death experience while making the Pepsi commercial feels inconsequential and the vague mention of painkillers that would come to rue his life is done in the same casual manner. Finally when from his hospital bed he declares his divine vision for the future I kinda lost my patience with it all. 

This is a music video compilation of his greatest hits. Not as terrible as critics had been claiming, while not as joyous as The Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, it's far more enjoyable than Rocket Man. If you're a diehard fan of Michael Jackson you'll have a good time the rest of you will probably wonder what all the fuss was about. And so this gets a 6/10.

FOOTNOTE.

If Elvis was the King of Rock 'n' Roll, and Madonna was the Queen of Pop, then surely Michael Jackson should have been known as the Duke of York of Pop and not the Prince?*

*And before any smart Alecks out there tell me he was known as the King of Pop and not the Prince of Pop, I don't care, it works better for my rather excellent gag.