‘Michael’ Review: The Thrill Is Not Gone, as a Surprisingly Effective Middle-of-the-Road Biopic Conducts Michael Jackson’s Electricity

The purpose of a pop music biopic is often twofold: to revel in the iconic legacy of a beloved star and to uncover a more intimate, personal portrait. Michael Jackson, however, presents a unique challenge. His life was a public spectacle from childhood, as he evolved from the 10-year-old prodigy fronting the Jackson 5 into the most intensely examined solo superstar of his era. Every facet—his unparalleled artistry, his enigmatic persona, his changing appearance, and his well-documented eccentricities—unfolded in a relentless, real-time narrative. Given that Jackson is arguably the most transcendent pop figure since The Beatles, Antoine Fuqua's biopic, "Michael," inevitably traverses extensively familiar terrain, both triumphant and tumultuous.

Notably, the film chooses not to address the child sexual abuse allegations that first surfaced in 1993 and have remained a contentious part of his legacy. This omission creates a significant void at the heart of the story, firmly establishing "Michael" as a portrait that consciously avoids the artist's darkest controversies. Yet, the surprise lies in how effectively the film operates within these constraints. It functions as a polished, high-gloss version of a classic television movie, meticulously chronicling career milestones from the "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" video to the legendary Motown 25 performance of "Billie Jean." The narrative consolidates Jackson's inner conflicts into a single source: his domineering father, Joe. Played with formidable intensity by Colman Domingo under heavy prosthetics, Joe is portrayed as the Svengali-like figure from whom Michael must break free to forge his own identity.

The film is anchored by a revelatory performance from Jaafar Jackson, the 29-year-old nephew of Michael and son of Jermaine Jackson. In his acting debut, Jaafar masterfully captures not only the iconic voice and electrifying dance moves but also the complex blend of fragility and determination that defined his uncle. While perhaps not possessing Michael's otherworldly beauty, Jaafar's more accessible quality effectively highlights the vulnerability beneath the superstar facade. As one music historian noted in a recent interview, "Jackson's artistry was fundamentally shaped by a desire to transform personal pain into universal spectacle—a dynamic this performance captures compellingly."

The story begins in 1966 in Gary, Indiana, depicting Joe Jackson drilling his sons with militaristic rigor. He views the group, particularly the preternaturally gifted young Michael (played with poignant sensitivity by Juliano Valdi), as the family's ticket out of lower-middle-class struggle. The film unflinchingly portrays Joe's physical and emotional abuse, establishing the foundational trauma of Michael's life. The narrative then jumps to 1978, as an adult Michael (now played by Jamaal Jackson) collaborates with legendary producer Quincy Jones (Klendrick Samson) on "Off the Wall." This period marks his initial steps toward autonomy, symbolized by his instruction to lawyer John Branca (Miles Teller) to fire Joe as his manager via a blunt fax—a pivotal act of self-liberation that clears the creative path for "Thriller."

A compelling sequence shows Michael drawing inspiration from real gang members in an L.A. club to choreograph "Beat It," illustrating his genius for channeling street-level reality into pop spectacle. However, the specter of his father persists. Following "Thriller's" global mania, Joe secretly brokers a deal with promoter Don King (Deon Cole) for a Jackson 5 reunion tour, indirectly leading to the horrific 1984 Pepsi commercial accident where Michael's hair caught fire. The film frames this trauma as a karmic consequence of his father's controlling machinations. It culminates with Michael's final, definitive break from Joe after a triumphant performance, ending on the note "The story continues…" This suggests "Michael" is conceived as the first chapter in a potential franchise—an approach that, while often cynical, could provide a future opportunity to grapple with the more challenging dimensions of the icon's profoundly complicated legacy.