Musician biopics, when done right, can be powerful portraits that go beyond the greatest hits and show-stopping spectacles to paint their subjects with a real sense of intimacy. At their best, these films concern themselves less with simply preserving an artist’s precious legacy and more with examining the complexities that define them.
When done wrong, though, well, you end up with otherwise hollow retellings like Antoine Fuqua’s “Michael,” a reverential film backed by the Jackson estate that spends more time enshrining the King of Pop as a mythic global icon than grappling with him as a complicated human being.
The first-name title of Michael Jackson’s long-awaited biopic implies that it finally humanizes, rather than illuminates, the pop legend the world idolized in the years before and after his 2009 death.
But judging by the lack of soul and curiosity in screenwriter John Logan’s Wikipedia-esque script, “Michael” only goes so deep into the tensions and contradictions that shaped the singer’s life pre-1988.
To be fair, the film doesn’t entirely neglect his musical legacy. Diehard MJ fans will more than likely be impressed by how the King of Pop’s nephew, Jaafar Jackson (son of Jermaine Jackson), seamlessly steps into Michael’s loafers with uncanny precision. Despite having no formal acting or dancing experience beforehand, Jaafar replicates his uncle’s signature moves, vocal cadence and physicality with striking authenticity, enough to convincingly channel the performer that audiences still remember.
