I just got out of Michael, and the more I think about it, the more I land on this: it’s a movie that captures the icon of Michael Jackson really well—but never fully understands the artist or the person behind it.
And that’s frustrating, because the potential here is massive.
Let’s start with the positives, because they matter.
Jaafar Jackson does an incredibly difficult job and honestly pulls it off. He’s not just doing an impression—he embodies the movement, the voice, the energy. There are moments where you genuinely forget you’re watching an actor. That alone is a huge win for the film.
The supporting cast is strong too. Colman Domingo and Nia Long bring real presence to Michael’s parents, and the actor playing young Michael is outstanding. Those early scenes are some of the best in the movie—they show the foundation of who he becomes, a kid shaped by pressure, discipline, and a completely abnormal childhood.
And when the movie leans into the spectacle, it works. The performances, the music, the recreations of Thriller, Beat It, Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough—this is the stuff that reminds you why Michael Jackson was on a completely different level. The film does a great job showing that global impact. The kind of fame where people faint just from seeing you. That doesn’t really exist anymore, and the movie captures that energy well.
But here’s the issue:
For a movie about one of the most creative artists to ever live, it barely explores his creativity.
And that’s where it really starts to fall apart for me.
We get the most surface-level version of the creative process—the classic biopic checklist. Writing in notebooks. Staring at idea boards. Quick flashes of inspiration. But it never goes deeper than that.
Why did he want to blend rock with pop the way he did?
Why work with someone like Eddie Van Halen to create the sound of Beat It?
Why take the risks he took musically and visually?
Why did Thriller become what it became?
These aren’t small questions—these are defining moments in music history. And the film just skims past them.
There’s a quick hint of inspiration here, a brief setup there, and then suddenly the finished product exists. No real exploration, no deep dive into the mind of someone who changed music forever. For a figure like Michael Jackson, that’s not just a missed opportunity—it’s the most interesting part of the story left unexplored.
And it’s not just the creativity.
The movie keeps brushing up against deeper, more complicated aspects of his life—and then backing away.
There’s a moment where he refuses medication, which feels like a clear setup given what we all know about how his life eventually unfolds. But the film doesn’t follow through. It feels like a “wink” to the audience instead of an honest conversation.
The same goes for his upbringing, his relationships, and the psychological side of who he was. His dynamic with Joe Jackson is there. His closeness to his mother is there. The idea that he never really had a childhood is there.
But it’s all just… there.
The film rarely takes the time to ask “why?”—and more importantly, answer it.
Even structurally, the movie feels like it’s holding back. Knowing that a longer version was cut down makes sense, because you can feel the gaps. Certain moments feel rushed, others feel underdeveloped, and some inclusions—like repeated focus on things that don’t add much depth—make you question what was prioritized. When your runtime is just over two hours, every minute counts. And not all of them are being used to their full potential.
There are also noticeable omissions. The absence of Janet Jackson stands out, especially in a story so rooted in family. It adds to the feeling that this is a selective version of Michael’s life rather than a complete one.
And then there’s the decision to end the film in 1988—right before everything gets even more complicated.
I understand that it’s difficult material. I understand that it’s not easy to tackle.
But that’s also the story.
I didn’t need this to be a hit piece. And I didn’t need it to be a sympathy piece either. What I wanted was an honest, deeper exploration of who Michael Jackson was—what drove him, what shaped him, what made him create the way he did.
Because this isn’t just any artist.
This is Michael Jackson. A once-in-a-lifetime figure. Someone whose impact on music, culture, and global fame is almost impossible to replicate.
And walking out of the theater, I kept coming back to the same thought:
He deserved a better biopic than this.
That doesn’t mean this movie is bad. It’s not. It’s entertaining, well-acted, and there are moments where it really shines. I even found myself thinking back to when I first heard his music as a kid—how songs like Thriller just stuck with you and never really left. The film taps into that nostalgia and that legacy.
But it never fully earns the story it’s trying to tell.
All the pieces are here—great casting, incredible source material, iconic moments.
It just doesn’t go far enough.
Maybe that changes if there’s a continuation. The ending suggests there’s more to come, and if that means a deeper, more unfiltered look at his life, I’ll absolutely be there for it.
Because a story like this—his story—deserves to be told in full.
And this, for me, only feels like part of it.
Michael = 69/100
