In the final scene of Michael, we see the King of Pop (played in adulthood by Michael Jackson’s nephew Jaafar Jackson) performing “Bad” at a 1988 stadium concert in London. Having spent 130 minutes positioning the controversial pop star as a victim, the noticeably evasive film ends with Michael singing, “Who’s bad?” followed by text that simply reads, “His story continues . . .”
What does director Antoine Fuqua (Training Day) mean by ending the film with moral evaluation (“Who’s bad?”) as an afterthought, with the cryptic comment that the long-dead singer’s “story continues”? Does he mean the “story” of Jackson’s persona gets much darker and more disturbing after 1988 (when the film ends) but that some other film will have to depict that chapter (perhaps the just-announced sequel)? Or does he mean the “story” (as in cultural narrative) of whether Jackson was—whether any of us is—a victim or villain is always evolving and being reevaluated over time?
Whatever this vague coda is intended to mean, it does little to compensate for the film’s shirking of moral responsibility. The movie avoids any mention or hint that Jackson used his powerful position to groom and abuse children (a part of his story widely attested by many accusers over many years). Instead, the movie positions Michael as a generational talent and an innocent victim of a domineering father and manager (Joe Jackson, played with one blunt note by Colman Domingo) who used and abused Michael for financial gain.
Keeping Darkness Hidden
The film’s first act follows young Michael (Juliano Valdi) as he and his brothers gain stardom as The Jackson 5. From early on, Michael (rated PG-13) is clear on the villain: patriarch Joe, the Captain Hook to Michael’s Peter Pan (a heavy-handed allusion made explicit in one scene). Joe belt-whips young Michael and forces him into the family band whether he likes it or not.
It’s a lonely life. Michael—a child superstar by age 11—has no friends “because they don’t treat [him] like a real person.” He instead confides in exotic pets like rats, llamas, and his iconic chimpanzee, “Bubbles.” If it weren’t so sad, the weirdness of the many “Michael talks to animals” scenes would be funny. But the film plays this for sympathy, as it does the scene of Michael getting his first nose job (because, he says, “I have to be perfect”).
As Michael grows up, Joe continues trying to exploit and control his son’s blossoming solo career. But Michael wants to be his own person, to make his own business and artistic choices. The film positions him as a visionary whose creative genius (especially in a montage of the “Thriller” songwriting process) is seismic and game-changing.
When his mom, Katherine (Nia Long), who raised Michael in her Jehovah’s Witness faith, tells him, “Jehovah says let your light shine,” Michael seems to take it to heart. He says he wants to “shine [his] light, to spread love and joy.” He desires to heal the world and make it a better place. The film shows him often in children’s hospitals bringing toys to sick kids.
As we know, however, Michael also made the world a worse place for the children he groomed and abused. Though you can’t watch it anywhere anymore (the Jackson estate fought to remove it from streaming platforms), the 2019 Emmy Award–winning HBO documentary Leaving Neverland is a brutal chronicle of the childhood abuse suffered by James Safechuck and Wade Robson over many years. They’re two of many who have come forward. Just last month, the New York Times published a new account of child sex abuse from four siblings who were once considered Jackson’s “second family.”
Michael’s ‘heal the world’ light came with a lot of darkness.
Michael’s “heal the world” light came with a lot of darkness that was hidden for a long time. Michael opts to keep this darkness covered up—as if it had never been exposed. Instead, the film latches on to the trauma plot and “misunderstood villain” tropes, which are all the rage.
Michael seems to suggest that even if Michael did become a predatory villain in the late ’80s and ’90s, it’s only because his traumatic childhood made him that way. Rather than a culpable sinner choosing evil, Michael is just broken, warped, scarred (literally from a burning incident), and cursed by circumstances. Like Cruella de Vil. Or the Joker. Or Elphaba.
In one scene, Michael describes to producer Quincy Jones (Kendrick Sampson) that he wants “Thriller” to be “pure escapism.” That’s how Michael feels. Escapism from reality. A version of the Michael Jackson story we wish were true.
Can We Separate Art and Artist?
A more nuanced biopic might have honored the singer’s groundbreaking artistry even as it steered far away from hagiographic revisionism. A better film would have rendered the artist in more realistic, albeit sadder relief: Yes, he was a generous philanthropist who supported numerous charities and advocated for children; yes, his music brought (and brings) joy to scores of listeners. But also he was—according to his accusers—a serial child rapist.
Of course, such a conflicted film wouldn’t have been the record-breaking box-office juggernaut Michael is. Such a film would, sadly, never have been released by a major Hollywood studio. Too much money can still be made from a sanitized Michael Jackson brand.
As Leaving Neverland director Dan Reed told Variety,
Jackson is an American myth, in addition to being an actual person, so he’s metastasized into something much bigger than who he actually was. When that happens, it doesn’t actually matter what the person was, because the person has been transfigured into something that is owned by the culture. He’s become part of the collective imagination, and the collective imagination can never include the fact that he’s a pedophile. It’s just not possible. . . . That’s not a narrative people can hold in their minds.
Today’s “vibes, not arguments” culture struggles to hold seemingly contradictory truths in tension—for example, that artists often create impressive, even glorious works while being monstrous people. The tension has become more pronounced in the #MeToo era as the realities of abuse among creatives and celebrities have led to cancellations. But it’s complicated.
Can we still enjoy films produced by Harvey Weinstein or starring Kevin Spacey? Should we never sing along to “Beat It” again or attempt to learn the “Thriller” dance? Is it wrong to attend the crowd-pleasing Michael Jackson ONE Cirque du Soleil show when visiting Las Vegas (a similarly hagiographic cash cow for the Jackson estate)?
How do we engage the work of artists whose legacies have been rightly tarnished by bad behavior? Should an artist’s morality matter in whether or how we enjoy his or her art?
These old questions are now further complicated by AI and the new question of whether it matters whether artworks (songs, let’s say) are even made by humans. Some might be tempted to see AI-made art as a way out of the messiness of these questions. Wouldn’t it be easier if we could enjoy “Thriller”-quality bangers without worrying that our enjoyment signals endorsement of the morally flawed human behind them? Robots can create catchy songs without the baggage of sordid scandal.
These are all complex, troubling questions. Our cognitively exhausted, screen-overstimulated brains tend to avoid wrestling with them. It’s easier to ignore the reality that documentaries like Leaving Neverland exist. It’s easier to watch a movie that’s simply a fun, well-choreographed karaoke experience.
Need for Unflinching Truth
Unflinching truth is rarely as lucrative as a flashy, feel-good puff piece, which is what Michael is. Still, unflinching truth is what Christians should be after—as both movie audiences and movie creators.
Should an artist’s morality matter in whether or how we enjoy his or her art?
It’s jarring to hear Michael’s daughter, Paris, publicly distance herself from Michael. She says the film is full of inaccuracies and lies, that “the narrative is being controlled,” and that it “panders to a very specific section of [her] dad’s fandom that still lives in the fantasy.” Paris goes on to clarify that she doesn’t hate or resent her dad; she just “prefers honesty over sales and monetary gain.”
Honesty over monetary gain. This is a hard but critical value all of us should aspire to more. If we take nothing else from Michael, maybe it’s this reminder. Truth over money. Truth over power. Truth over narratives we wish were different.
