Undoubtedly, everyone walking into “Michael” will be bringing some level of bias with them, and few films feel as pre-determined in how they will be received. I grew up in the 80s, and Michael Jackson was a defining part of my introduction to music and pop culture. “Man in the Mirror” and “We Are the World” are probably still in my top ten songs of all time. I went into this film wanting to love it, if only because I knew I would get to experience that music again in a theatrical setting. At the same time, like many, my feelings about Michael Jackson as a person are more complicated. I have never fully engaged with all of the discourse around the allegations that followed him later in life. I never watched “Leaving Neverland” and, if I am being honest, there has always been a part of me that chose not to, because it allowed me to preserve my connection to the art.
That tension sits at the center of “Michael”, a film directed by Antoine Fuqua and released by Lionsgate and Universal Pictures on April 24. Backed by the Jackson Estate, the film makes a very clear choice about how it wants to present its subject. Michael is portrayed as pure, misunderstood, and driven by a desire to heal the world, with nearly every controversy in his life given a sympathetic explanation. The film never directly engages with the most serious accusations against him, but it builds an alternate narrative around his love of children that frames it as an extension of his own lost childhood and emotional innocence. It is a deliberate choice, and one that will likely define how audiences respond to the film.
Structurally, the film follows a fairly traditional rise narrative, though filtered through a very specific lens. It opens with the formative years of the Jackson 5, where we are immediately introduced to the creation of the group under the strict control of Joe Jackson. These early sequences emphasize both his discipline and his cruelty, showing the intensity with which he pushed his sons toward success. At the same time, the film makes clear that Joe was instrumental in shepherding the family’s talent into something that could ultimately reach a global audience, leading to their discovery by Motown Records.
From there, the story moves forward to an adult Michael, played by Jaafar Jackson, now living at the family home but already carving out an identity that feels distinct from the group. The film leans into his increasingly eclectic lifestyle, offering early hints of what would later become Neverland Ranch through the presence of exotic animals and his evolving sense of fashion. At the same time, Michael begins to express a growing desire to break away and pursue a solo career.
The bulk of the film is then dedicated to the final stretch of the Jackson 5, a period depicted as being prolonged by Joe’s insistence on maintaining control, and the early stages of Michael’s solo ascent through albums like “Off the Wall” and “Thriller.” Notably, the film’s focus is almost entirely on his professional life. We spend time with collaborators and industry figures, but there is little exploration of personal or romantic relationships. In fact, the film offers virtually no indication that Michael had any interest in romantic connection at all, further reinforcing the idea of him as someone defined almost exclusively by his artistry and his mission.
For me, I tend to judge musical biopics against a few simple standards. The music and performances have to work. The film should help me understand what made the artist great. And ideally, I should walk away having learned something new. “Michael” clears the first bar. There is real energy in the recreation of iconic performances, particularly moments inspired by “Thriller,” and fans will find plenty to enjoy in seeing these sequences brought back to life. Jaafar Jackson delivers a performance that is at times almost uncanny in its physical resemblance. The voice, the movement, the mannerisms are all there, and for stretches of the film it genuinely feels like you are watching Michael on stage again.
To the film’s credit, it is mounted with a level of craft that reflects the scale of Michael Jackson’s global impact. If there is awards attention beyond the performances, it will likely come from the below-the-line work. The costume design and production design are especially strong, with recreations so precise that there were moments, particularly during the “Thriller” sequence, where it genuinely required a second look to distinguish between staged footage and archival reference. The sound work is equally critical here and largely succeeds. It is my understanding that Jaafar is singing with some level of enhancement, and while anyone deeply familiar with these songs will likely detect subtle differences, the overall vocal presentation and sound editing are convincing enough to maintain the illusion.
But that same precision becomes limiting once the film asks him to carry more emotional weight. Too often, it feels like Jaafar is locked into delivering an impression rather than a performance. In scenes that call for vulnerability or complexity, he rarely breaks free of that mode. There are moments that should land with real emotional force that instead feel distant, even unintentionally performative in a way that edges toward parody.
The larger issue is that the film struggles with the second and third standards. We are told that Michael is a genius, but we are rarely shown why in a meaningful way. There are brief glimpses of him in the studio, both as a child and as an adult, where the film comes closest to capturing something real. The younger version of Michael, played by Juliano Valdi, is particularly effective, and some of the best moments in the film come from watching him experiment with melodies or jot down fragments of lyrics like “ma ma se, ma ma sa, ma ma ku sa” as the beginnings of something larger. These scenes hint at a deeper exploration of his creative process, but they are fleeting. They never build into a fuller understanding of how he worked or what set him apart beyond broad statements about his natural gifts.
What the film does spend time on is shaping a very specific narrative. Because it is produced with the involvement of the Jackson Estate, it often feels less like a biography and more like a carefully managed image rehabilitation. Every controversial aspect of Michael’s life is reframed in the most sympathetic light. His changing appearance is tied to illness and early criticism from his father. His dependence on painkillers is traced back to physical trauma, including the well known Pepsi commercial accident. His emotional connection to children is rooted in the idea that he never had a childhood of his own. At the center of nearly all of it is Joe Jackson, played by Colman Domingo, who is positioned as the primary source of pain and pressure in Michael’s life.
Domingo is, as expected, excellent. Even under layers of transformation, he reminds you why he is one of the most compelling actors working today. At the same time, even this portrayal feels filtered. You can sense a more complex and potentially more unsettling version of Joe Jackson just beneath the surface, but the film never fully allows it to come through. It is hard not to imagine what a more unrestrained performance might have looked like in a film less concerned with protecting its central figure.
The supporting cast, including Larenz Tate as Berry Gordy, Kendrick Sampson as Quincy Jones, and Miles Teller as John Branca, only adds to the sense of missed opportunity. These are some of the most important relationships in Michael’s career, and yet they are given surprisingly little room to breathe. The same can be said for his family. Janet Jackson is not present in the film, and the dynamic between Michael and his brothers is sketched so lightly that it becomes difficult to distinguish one from another or understand their impact on his development.
There are moments where the film almost finds something deeper. The scenes in the studio, the brief hints of Michael seeking validation or connection from figures like Gordy or Quincy Jones, and the relationship with his security guard Bill Bray all suggest a more layered story waiting to be told. But time and again, the film pulls back, choosing instead to reinforce its central narrative. We return repeatedly to images of Joseph’s control, of fans fainting at Michael’s presence, of hospital visits that underline his desire to heal. The repetition makes the intent clear, and over time, it begins to feel less like storytelling and more like messaging.
Even the musical choices contribute to a sense of imbalance. Some performances are given extended space, including multiple full sequences late in the film, while others that feel essential to understanding Michael’s identity are absent. Not hearing “Man in the Mirror,” for me, was particularly noticeable and left the film without the emotional release it seems to be building toward.
Making a musical biopic is difficult under any circumstances. Doing one with the level of scrutiny that comes with Michael Jackson is even harder. There is a version of this film that leans into that complexity, that sits with the contradictions and allows the audience to wrestle with them. This is not that film. Instead, “Michael” presents a version of its subject that is overwhelmingly positive, often to the point of feeling incomplete.
There will absolutely be audiences who embrace it. Fans who want to relive the music and see these performances brought back to life will find plenty to enjoy. But for those looking for a fuller understanding of who Michael Jackson was, beyond the mythology, the film never quite gets there.
I walked in wanting to love it. I walked out feeling like I had seen the version of the story the film wanted to tell, just not the one that fully exists.
Grade: C