permanently complicated Jackson’s legacy. The screenplay largely sidesteps them, and while defenders argue the film’s timeline doesn’t fully extend into that chapter of his life, audiences are hardly walking into theaters with selective amnesia. The avoidance becomes distracting in itself. You can practically feel the movie nervously changing the subject whenever it drifts too close to uncomfortable territory. Now, do I think Michael needed to transform into a courtroom drama or a tabloid exposé? Absolutely not. The film works best when it focuses on artistry, celebrity, and the brutal cost of becoming a global obsession before adulthood. But I do think the movie underestimates audiences by assuming honesty would somehow diminish Jackson’s brilliance. Complexity would have strengthened the tragedy, not weakened it. Instead, Michael often feels like an expensive museum exhibit, dazzlingly curated and emotionally moving, but careful not to let visitors linger too long near the cracks in the glass. Still, there’s no denying the power of the experience. The music rattles the walls, the performances soar, and Jaafar Jackson carries the entire production with charisma so convincing it occasionally borders on eerie. Vale Verdict: Michael dazzles whenever it performs and retreats whenever it should interrogate itself. A thrilling, frustrating portrait of genius
Michael Directed by Antoine Fuqua — Reviewed by Harrison Vale
I ducked into Michael on a rainy spectacle, and the complicated mythology of the most famous pop star on Earth. A Michael Jackson biopic should overwhelm you a little. It should sparkle, unravel, and occasionally leave you uncomfortable enough to sit quietly through the credits. Jaafar Jackson shines through the performance. There are moments where he moves across the stage and the audience collectively forgets they’re watching an actor. afternoon with expectations reserved for two and a half hours of sequins, The musical sequences are unquestionably the film’s greatest achievement. The Thriller recording sessions crackle with energy, while the Motown 25 performance is staged with enough electricity to remind audiences why Michael Jackson permanently altered
the DNA of pop culture. During Billie Jean, Antoine Fuqua finally stops directing a standard biopic and starts directing something closer to cultural memory. Even I, a man professionally trained to resist emotional manipulation, caught myself leaning forward with an involuntary grin. What ultimately keeps Michael from greatness, however, is its fear of confronting the uglier realities surrounding the man at its center. The film acknowledges allegations of abuse by Joseph Jackson, but only cautiously. Personally, I think that restraint weakens the story. You cannot fully explain Michael Jackson’s loneliness, perfectionism, or fractured sense of identity without honestly examining the environment that created him. Then comes the larger issue hovering over the entire film, the allegations that
that mistakes protection for honesty just often enough to keep greatness out of reach.
Neat Enough Solid, enjoyable, nothing remarkable.
Vol. 645 YA 13A
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