After a production process rockier than a moonwalk on gravel, the Michael Jackson biopic *Michael* has finally shambled into theaters. Originally slated for a 2025 release, the film was pushed back when attorneys discovered a clause in a settlement with Jordan Chandler - who accused Jackson of sexual abuse in 1993 - that barred any depiction of him in a future film. Upon this inconvenient discovery, the original ending, which focused on those allegations, was rewritten and reshot to close on a more triumphant note, a process that cost between $10 million and $15 million. Nothing says "artistic integrity" like spending eight figures to pretend a major plot point never happened.
Some of Jackson's family members and his most diehard fans are hoping this film will salvage the King of Pop's legacy, but critics have largely responded with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for a root canal. (Though Jaafar Jackson, Michael's real-life nephew who stars in the movie, might emerge unscathed; people seem to enjoy his moonwalks.) Here is a sampling of what reviewers are saying.
“Antoine Fuqua’s demi-biopic gives you the chimp, the llama, the giraffe… but not the elephant in the living room,” writes Peter Bradshaw of *The Guardian*. “It’s like a 127-minute trailer montage assembling every music-movie cliche you can think of: the producers’ astonishment in the recording studio, the tour bus, the billboard chart ascent, the meeting with the uncool corporate execs.”
Owen Gleiberman of *Variety* is more charitable: “Jaafar, the 29-year-old son of Jermaine Jackson, has never acted in a movie before. But does he ever nail the look, the voice, the electrostatic moves - and, more than that, the mixture of delicacy and steel that made Michael who he was.”
Tom Breihan of *Stereogum* offers a split decision: “Jaafar is not really an actor, and I can't imagine he'll ever play a major role other than Michael Jackson. In dramatic scenes, he's fully inert. He does Michael's speaking voice all through the movie, and there was a mutter all through my theater when we first heard it. It's not fun to hear someone talk like that for two hours. But Jaafar looks like Michael Jackson, and he moves like Michael Jackson - two things that are basically unthinkable. Fuqua uses Jaafar to restage countless iconic Jackson moments, and the moments of performance are absolutely electric. Parts of *Michael* are so good that I couldn't believe what I was seeing, just as parts of *Michael* are so bad that I couldn't believe what I was seeing.”
Pete Hammond of *Deadline* notes the film “gets a bit too bogged down in running through the greatest hits of a public life we already know well… For all its attributes, *Michael* doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know and falls short of giving any new insights.”
Alissa Wilkinson of *The New York Times* delivers the harshest verdict: “This Michael is flat, barely human. Hagiography is the standard mode in which all estate-involved biographical movies work… The notion that a human - someone who gets angry or bitter or has a bit of an ego on them - is inherently easier to relate to, far more believable and ultimately more lovable, seems lost on most filmmakers.”
Clarisse Loughrey of *The Independent* argues the film “exists to be consumed as an act of allegiance, as proof of fandom. It resists story in favour of content, in making sure fans see what they expect to see, whether that be the ‘Thriller’ video or ‘Bad’ performed live at Wembley in 1988.”
And Nicholas Barber of the BBC, in the spirit of brevity, sums it up: “It's bad. It's bad. It's really, really bad.”