Michael leaves a gap while reigniting fandom

As I said in my review of Back to Black, by the time we see a biopic, we are already familiar with the performer’s talents and body of work and know that sadly, he or she is going to die at the end of the movie. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case with A Complete Unknown, and nor is it the case with Michael, since the movie, while it presents an engaging and enjoyable story, falls short of presenting a complete one. 

Written by John Logan (Any Given Sunday, Skyfall), director Antoine Fuqua’s (Equalizer, Training Day) Michael opens in the mid to late 1960s with the five young Jackson brothers rehearsing, singing and dancing in their modest Gary, Indiana home under the watchful eye of their father Joseph (Colman Domingo), who critiques every small move. “Eyes up Michael,” he says repeatedly, “Eyes up Michael.” While the children are excited about the gigs their father/manager lands for them, they become weary of frequently arriving home late on school nights. So, when Joseph insists that they take off their coats and get ready to practice after returning home one night, a roughly ten-year-old Michael rebels, telling Joseph “No” and that they are tired. 

Joseph stares down his young son and demands that he come over to him. In a snap, he quickly removes his belt and whips Michael with it, while exclaiming that he is to never talk back to him again. Michael’s mother Katherine (Nia Long) and his four brothers look shocked and saddened, but no one says a word. His older brothers fall in line. To be fair, in most households, parents have a low tolerance for kids talking back to them, and in some homes, disciplining children with a belt is standard fare. How a child processes such punishment, though, varies. Some shrug it off (or at least appear to), and others are deeply scarred by it. The movie, Michael, suggests the pop star was of the latter group.

Starring Jaafar Jackson as the older Michael in the film, Michael covers the life of the superstar from his humble beginnings in Gary, Indiana through the release of his hit album, Bad. As the group’s popularity rises and the family’s wealth increases, Joseph introduces Michael to his new personal driver and security guard, Bill (KeiLyn Durrel Jones), and the two become lifelong friends. Michael seeks Bill’s consultation regarding his troubles with his father’s controlling behavior and even asks Bill to assemble gang members at a warehouse in Los Angeles in what would become the video for his hit song, “Beat It.” 

I loved this movie, and I realized that it is in large part because of the actor who portrayed Michael in the film. Jaafar Jackson, Michael’s nephew, not only looks like his uncle in the movie, but he also moved like him and talked like him. Moreover, he portrayed a side of Michael that I figured had to exist for him to climb to superstar status. Even in a room full of powerful people, he ran the show. What transpires in one scene validates this supposition, at least as much as a biopic can. In the scene, Michael sits at the head of a long table in a glass-enclosed conference room filled with lawyers vying for his business. When one voice among the sea of them stands out, Michael dryly tells the others to “Let [him] have the room.” They all get up and promptly leave.

Some say that cultural power isn’t really power but influence, meaning it can encourage political action, for example, but it cannot directly affect policy. By extension, this concept asserts that icons like Michael Jackson, Oprah Winfrey, Michael Jordan, Anna Wintour, and Steven Spielberg can prompt us to become introspective and shape our outlook on life, but effecting a change in our social status or economic position is beyond their sway. What this fails to consider, however, is how one form of power often translates into others. As a result of their obvious influence on the ways people think and feel, for instance, those in the list above acquired social status and wealth, which in turn led to their access to those in political power and their audience’s reverence for them. The tangible of these (wealth) is what the lawyers in the conference room wanted from Michael and paid deference to the cultural icon to get. What struck me about the events in the conference room, though, is how well Michael knew his power in that space and how he handled it with such deft and grace.

The cinematography in this film mesmerizes, moving from tones to tints as the family’s financial situation changes. The gray days, the dimly lit home, and the dark fabrics of the characters’ clothing give the earlier scenes a sense of heaviness that conveys the family’s financial hardship as they lived on Joseph’s steelworker salary. Shortly into the film, the scenery shifts to sunny days, large and brightly lit spaces of their mansion, and the light fabrics with varied colors and designs. Together, these impart the family’s life as now relatively opulent. 

Additionally, to say that the music in Michael was nostalgic, stimulating, and made the audience feel some kind of way would be understating its effect. Indeed, some people in the theater sang along with the songs, and many danced in the aisles as the credits rolled to Michael’s music. Michael had generations of fans, including many born after his untimely death in 2009. It explains why kids seemingly as young as eight years old were in the theater when I went, and why the movie earned more than $218 million in its opening weekend. Still, the film left some glaring gaps.

None of the details around the abuse allegations with children during overnight stays at his Neverland Ranch were included in the film. Omitting this pivotal event and at least some elements of the highly publicized trial allowed the filmmakers to solidify Michael as a sympathetic character in the film. One who is struggling to wrestle his career from an overbearing father even into adulthood, and one who is dealing with the psychological wreckage left from an exciting and privileged yet far too abnormal childhood.

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I feel a twinge guilty that I like this film so much. Like other biopics, you never know what is true and what is embellished. In Michael, you can even argue that his father was depicted as more imperious than he was, so that Michael can appear even more childlike than he was—which brings me to my sting of guilt. It concerns the film’s lack of comprehensiveness and the intentionality involved in not dealing with the allegations, even from the Jackson family’s perspective.

Omitting this event altogether feels like audience manipulation was the goal; though to be fair, all biopics are guilty of this. Their goal is to shape the audience’s view of the artist, so it never gets the full 360 degrees of the individual. In Michael, presenting Michael as a cute, uber-talented, sympathetic character obfuscates the audience’s ability to wonder for even a moment about the artist’s guilt or innocence in this matter. The film is intentionally designed for us to enjoy his music and incredible performances, and to understand the person just a little bit better.

Michael reminds me most of Back to Black. Like Michael, the biopic of Amy Winehouse consists of music performances and relationship challenges. Both films are authorized by the artists’ families, and both are tragic stories about very talented music artists gone way too soon.