There are giant artists. And then there are those rare names that seem bigger than the time in which they lived. Michael Jackson belongs firmly in that second category, and Michael, written by John Logan, directed by Antoine Fuqua, understands that from its very first frame. This is not just a biographical retelling. It is an attempt to capture an aura, a presence, something that feels almost impossible to pin down. Whether it fully succeeds is up for debate, but there is no denying the scale of its ambition.
I went into this as a long-time fan, carrying a fair bit of anticipation, and for the most part, the film delivered on that emotional front. It is very much a crowd pleaser, the kind that invites you to relive the music, the moments, and the mythology. But it also plays things a little too safe, often choosing reverence over revelation. That tension defines much of the experience.
Structurally, the decision to split the story into two parts is an interesting one, and surprisingly, it works here. This chapter focuses on the rise, tracing Michael’s journey from a gifted child performer in the Jackson 5 to a global phenomenon stepping into his own artistic identity. Giving the story this kind of space allows it to breathe, to linger on moments that might have otherwise felt rushed. Where the film chooses to end, closing on the Bad tour, feels like a natural pause. It captures a turning point where the performer we knew begins to evolve into something even more complex and enigmatic. It left me genuinely looking forward to the next chapter.
What truly anchors the film is Jaafar Jackson. I will admit, I went in with some hesitation. Playing someone as iconic as Michael Jackson is not just about imitation. It is about embodying a presence that the entire world recognizes. And Jaafar does something quite remarkable. He does not simply mimic the voice or the movements. He finds something internal, something lived in. There are stretches where you stop thinking about performance altogether and just watch. That is not easy to achieve, especially with a figure so deeply ingrained in popular culture.
There is a joy in his performance, particularly in the musical sequences, that becomes infectious. You can feel how much he is enjoying the moment, and that energy translates directly to the audience. The Billie Jean Motown sequence is one of the film’s high points, staged with a sense of build that mirrors the cultural impact of that performance. It is the kind of scene that reminds you why music biopics exist in the first place. And then there is the Bad finale, which lands with a similar sense of electricity. These moments are crafted to give you goosebumps, and for me, they absolutely did.
Opposite him, Colman Domingo brings a simmering intensity to Joe Jackson. His presence is felt in every scene he occupies. There is a quiet menace, a calculated control, that shapes the emotional landscape of the film. While the narrative leans into familiar territory when it comes to the dynamic between father and son, Domingo elevates it through sheer performance. You sense both the drive and the damage in equal measure. There is also an interesting undercurrent that the film lightly gestures toward in how Michael processes that relationship. His fascination with Peter Pan begins to take on a deeper meaning here, with Joe almost taking the shape of a looming Hook figure, while the brothers resemble a kind of lost collective orbiting that authority. In that reading, Michael does not just escape into fantasy, he reimagines his reality, positioning himself as the leader of his own world, which in turn echoes his later pull toward the idea of Neverland.
At the same time, the film does fall into some of the well-worn patterns of the genre. It often frames Michael as an almost flawless figure, emphasizing his generosity, his love for fans, his compassion. While these aspects are certainly part of his story, the film rarely ventures into more complicated territory. It smooths over edges that might have made for a more layered portrait. The supporting characters, particularly his brothers, tend to blur together, functioning more as a collective presence than as distinct individuals.
This is where the film feels most restrained. Michael Jackson is fascinating precisely because of his contradictions. The public image and the private reality. The childlike wonder and the intense control. The film hints at these complexities but does not fully explore them. Instead, it leans into a more accessible narrative, one that is designed to resonate with a broad audience. It is effective, but it leaves you wanting more.
There are also moments where the structure feels slightly uneven. The build toward the later stages of the film suggests a deeper dive that never quite arrives. The ending, while thematically appropriate, feels somewhat abrupt. It is clear that this is only part of a larger story, and that awareness shapes how the final act lands. It works in the sense that it sets up anticipation, but it also means that certain threads feel unresolved.
From a directorial standpoint, Fuqua keeps things straightforward. The staging of performances is clean and polished, though not always as dynamic as one might hope given the subject. There are glimpses of visual flair, particularly in the concert sequences, but much of the film relies on a conventional approach. It does the job, but it rarely surprises.
And yet, despite these reservations, I found myself genuinely engaged. There is an undeniable emotional pull to seeing these moments recreated with such care. The music, the energy, the sheer scale of Michael Jackson’s impact, all of it comes through. It reminded me why his story continues to captivate audiences across generations.
There is also something to be said about the film’s tone. It carries a sense of admiration, almost reverence, that shapes every creative choice. That can be limiting, but it also gives the film a consistent emotional throughline. It knows what it wants to celebrate, even if it does not fully interrogate it.
In many ways, Michael feels like the first half of a much larger conversation. It sets the stage, introduces the key dynamics, and captures the rise of an artist who would go on to redefine global pop culture. The real question now is what the next chapter chooses to explore. There is a wealth of material that could lead to something far more layered and daring.
For now, what we have is an engaging, well-performed, and undeniably entertaining film that leans heavily into its strengths while sidestepping some of its more challenging aspects. It may not be the definitive portrait of Michael Jackson, but it is a compelling start.
And as I walked out, still humming those songs, I realized something simple but telling. Even when the film holds back, the legend does not.
Experience Michael in IMAX and Theaters on April 24, 2026.
