Rating: Two out of five stars
Anyone who saw Donald Trump’s controversial social media post depicting the US President as a Christ-like figure might be reminded of it by the Michael Jackson biopic Michael, which does for the late King of Pop what Trump was trying to do for himself.
It shows Jackson as truly messianic, glowing with concern for sick children and general goodness.
As so often is the case, the clue to the content lies in the credits. Six of the executive producers of the film, called simply Michael, bear the surname Jackson (among them his son, Prince), and so does the leading man.
The family is on a mission. There is not even the teeniest hint that this version of Michael – played with a mega-watt smile by his nephew, Jaafar – might have done anything in his private life more unsavoury than kissing his pet llama.
Admittedly, the film only takes us up to Jackson’s spectacular Wembley Stadium concert in 1988, but a final caption confirms that a follow-up is planned.
Will the next one fully explore the rumours of child molestation and the reported $25million Jackson paid to settle out of court with the family of Jordan Chandler, the 13-year-old boy who made credible allegations of sexual abuse? I shouldn’t be presumptuous, but I’m guessing probably not.
Here, director Antoine Fuqua and screenwriter John Logan tell Jackson’s story without lumbering us with anything as challenging as nuance or ambiguity.
Colman Domingo does his considerable best with the role of Jackson’s cruel, conniving, controlling father Joe, who all but wears a badge reading ‘You know I’m bad, I’m bad (bad, bad)’.
It will come as no surprise that with six members of the Jackson family as executive producers, there is not a hint that this version of Michael might have done anything unsavoury
Here, the late King Of Pop is played with a mega-watt smile by his nephew, Jaafar, who delivers a compelling performance
By contrast, his mother Katherine (Nia Long) is downright saintly, while his siblings can’t seem to muster a personality between them (and Janet, who by all accounts opposed the film, is left out altogether).
Michael’s bodyguard and driver Bill Bray (KeiLyn Durrel Jones) is a rock of crinkly-eyed support and empathy, but then, without wanting to diminish the fellow, so is Michael’s cuddly pet chimp, Bubbles.
Basically, all these supporting characters exist as ciphers to aid our understanding of the main man, the preternaturally talented superstar and self-styled Peter Pan, who died of a prescription-drug overdose in 2009 aged 50, and whose 1982 album Thriller remains the best-selling album of all time.
The story begins in Gary, Indiana, in 1966. ‘Y’all wanna work in a steel mill like me for the rest of your days?’ thunders Joe, as he forces his sons to rehearse their act over and over, and takes a belt to anyone who dissents.
It is the earliest salvo in a barrage of exposition, which continues when the baby of the family, eight-year-old Michael, reads a certain story by JM Barrie aloud to himself in bed.
‘Neverland was finally free,’ he exclaims, sweetly, with only the cynics among us reminded of the 2019 documentary Leaving Neverland, which focused on two men who claimed that Jackson abused them as children.
As Michael turns the pages of Peter Pan, we see the name ‘Joe’ beside an arrow pointing at Captain Hook. Yet in that inconvenient way of pushy parents in biopics, Joe’s brow-beating pays off.
By 1969, the Jackson 5 are in Los Angeles wowing the father of Motown, Berry Gordy (Larenz Tate), who ain’t ever seen anything quite like Michael.
From there the film plods through the major developments in Jackson’s extraordinary career: going solo, becoming richer than Croesus, having nose-reconstruction surgery, firing Joe (in a brutal one-line fax from his new manager John Branca, played by Miles Teller), and the traumatic episode during a 1984 Pepsi commercial shoot when his hair catches fire.
Jaafar’s not much of an actor. But in looks, voice and dance moves he really couldn’t be a better match
The storytelling is simplistic, the omissions egregious, but $200million (the estimated budget) sure buys a fabulous karaoke act
In fairness, Jaafar Jackson (taking over from Juliano Krue Valdi who makes a lovely job of the boy version), gives a compelling performance as his late uncle.
He’s not much of an actor. But in looks, voice and dance moves he really couldn’t be a better match.
The storytelling is simplistic, the omissions egregious, but $200million (the estimated budget) sure buys a fabulous karaoke act.
Despite the film’s extravagant production costs, 116 million views of the trailer within 24 hours suggest that it will smash box-office records for a music biopic, and I’m sure it will delight Jackson fans happy to turn a blind eye to their hero’s darker predilections.
To nobody’s surprise, it adds cinematic heft to the line, peddled endlessly by the Jackson estate, that Michael only sought the company of animals and children because in the world of adults he remained a lost boy.
Michael opens in UK cinemas on Wednesday.
