Director: Antoine Fuqua
Cast: Jaafar Jackson, Nia Long, Laura Harrier, Juliano Krue Valdi, Miles Teller, Colman Domingo
Screenplay: John Logan
127 mins. Rated PG-13 for some thematic material, language, and smoking.

The world of pop culture is full of complex figures, those who contributed to the public canon while also mired in controversial personal lives. How do we reckon with these figures, especially in the age of social media where it becomes nearly impossible to differentiate between the artist and the art? I’ve often been asked my thoughts on public figures who have waded through controversy, and I usually find that I’m able to separate the two, though I’d never force that upon another. If you can’t separate the individual from their work, I wouldn’t blame you for avoiding anything connected to them. When it was announced a few years ago that there would finally be a music biopic on Michael Jackson, the central question was how the filmmakers would deal with the darker part of his life, specifically the allegations of sexual assault. That question was thrown into further turmoil with the acknowledgment that the Jackson family would be heavily involved in the film, even including Jackson’s own nephew in the lead role. Now, the finished product brings our lead character to 1988, five years prior to the first public accusations, skirting the uncomfortable part of the story, which some might see as a cop-out (myself included). Given the film that director Antoine Fuqua (Training Day) has delivered, Michael features stellar performances, a breezy and lightweight script, and great musical pop that unfortunately struggles to escape the clouds floating overhead.

Starting in 1966, this music biopic depicts Michael Jackson’s early fame as part of the Jackson 5, including his strained and painful relationship with his father Joe Jackson (Colman Domingo, Wicked: For Good), and his subsequent rise to superstardom as the undisputed King of Pop. Michael’s struggle to reclaim a lost childhood and his hope to free himself from his father’s clutches and be his own man are displayed through his early days at Motown to his representation by John Branca (Miles Teller, Whiplash). Fuqua’s film showcases the creation of iconic Michael Jackson moments from his music videos to his ownership of Bubbles the monkey and his love of Peter Pan.

Michael has been crafted for the BIG moments, the musical numbers and the memories. The music is excellent and Fuqua has found a visual poetry that feels like a celebration of pop culture status and a possibly bygone time period where stardom was universal. At times, Michael feels like a concert film, with an overabundance of musical films overwhelming the lighter story elements, but I do believe that John Logan’s screenplay focuses on that complex dynamic between Michael and Joe Jackson with believable intensity. While most music biopics focus heavily on substance addiction (a staple of the genre), Michael finds that career control and financial leeching can damage a musician just as much.

Michael is full of strong performances, most notably from Michael and Joe Jackson themselves. Jaafar Jackson’s performance is probably made better by his relative unknown status as a performer. Within five minutes of his arrival in the film, one forgets that they are watching a performance. Michael Jackson is perhaps one of the most notable and iconic people to have ever existed, and yet Jaafar Jackson matches the voice, physicality, and energy of his uncle with ease. One should also recognize newcomer Juliano Krue Valdi as the younger iteration of Michael Jackson from his time with the Jackson 5. Valdi is on equal footing with Jaafar Jackson and truly disappears into the performance. On the other side of things, Colman Domingo is virtually unrecognizable as Joe Jackson in a performance that may just be his best yet, wandering through the film like a troll, lumbering and slinking and causing chaos. These central performances are surrounded by strong supporting players like Nia Long (Missing) as Katherine Jackson, the family matriarch, and Larenz Tate as Berry Gordy. There’s no actor dragging this one down.

The biggest problem plaguing Michael is the implication always on the outset. Knowing about the controversy and the allegations looming overhead make this one occasionally uncomfortable. Seeing scenes of Michael spending time with sick children kind of turned my stomach, and I frequently kept losing focus on the film knowing that it was never going to fully dive into the controversy. I kept finding myself thinking that if they don’t acknowledge the allegations at least somewhat, it’s a disservice to a truly great character study. Recently, it came out that Logan’s screenplay did contain acknowledgments of what is known, but the family intervened, claiming a settlement reason for ignoring these events and causing a costly amount of reshoots. Now, the film does end in 1988 before the public accusations took place, effectively saving and skirting the more difficult material, and knowing that going in may have an effect on viewers, but knowing that the filmmakers really want to pursue a sequel if the film is a success (and it WILL be a success) sets them down a path where the sequel absolutely has to confront these accusations or risk derailing itself (and, by default, this “first” film). It’s an uncomfortable but necessary need that shouldn’t affect this film but kind of does regardless.

Michael is an exciting and entertaining big production about the King of Pop, featuring some truly excellent performances that we’ll be talking about at the end of the year. It’s central subject will unnerve or upset some viewers, and I can’t tell you that you should see it regardless, but I am recommending Michael with the caveat that it will ignore the singer’s worst aspects that will hopefully be addressed in a sequel. Strong performances, electrifying direction, and a central father/son conflict make Michael an exciting music biopic that doesn’t fall back into the subgenre’s most notable tropes and cliches.

3.5/5
-Kyle A. Goethe

• More from Antoine Fuqua: Olympus Has Fallen, The Equalizer