Michael Review: This Michael Jackson Hagiography Is A Masterclass In Sugar-Coated, Santised, Shallow Biopics | Hollywood News

Last Updated:April 23, 2026, 18:40 IST

Child abuse allegations and controversies aren’t downplayed in Michael to preserve the king of pop myth. They’re just not touched upon. As for Jaafar Jackson, he’s inconsistent.

Michael stars Jaafar Jackson, who plays his legendary uncle. The film marks his acting debut.

Michael Movie Review: It’s surprising how long it took for Hollywood to helm a biopic on Michael Jackson, arguably one of the greatest entertainers that there was. But finally, following a handful of documentaries and concert telefilms (Man In The Mirror: The Michael Jackson Story, Michael Jackson: Searching for Neverland and Michael Jackson’s Journey From Motown To Off The Wall), comes a biography – one that’s for the big screen.

Michael, the biopic, marks (or should have marked) a significant cultural moment. It pays a homage to the king of pop, who shattered the glass ceiling and defied American racial barriers. But for the Jacksons, this is way above all of this – it’s quite personal, not just historical. Michael is played by his nephew, Jaafar Jackson, in his film debut. The film is backed by many of his relatives and close collaborators. And that’s exactly where the film falters.

This film is so saccharine-coated, so squeaky-clean, so cautious that it will elevate the crowd-pleasing Bohemian Rhapsody (Graham King who produced the Rami Malek starrer produces this one too) or The Blind Side’s safe and white saviour narrative to being the greatest biopics that there ever were. Michael, sadly, doesn’t offer anything new, anything unseen or anything unheard of. It largely spans between two decades – from the 1960s to the mid-1980s.

Fans would know that this period only traces his tryst with Jackson 5 (a pop group consisting of brothers Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon and Michael) and his rise to solo superstardom. What about the child abuse allegations, you ask? Well, nothing. Nada. None of it makes it to his biopic. No, these allegations and controversies are not downplayed to preserve the king of pop myth. They’re just not touched upon.

In fact, his dramatic physical transformation that became a subject of intense scrutiny and debate on whether it was self-rejection and a betrayal of his identity as a Black man isn’t truly explored either. We see him getting a rhinoplasty but the chatter around his skin-lightening treatment is brushed off as vitiligo. Yes, the makers (read his family) loved him dearly and it shows. But wasn’t this film made for the global audience?

You may even wonder that this hagiography could’ve easily been a home video for the family. It’s this borderline Mr Goody Two Shoes-like treatment that becomes Michael’s weakest link. Off-stage, he’s depicted visiting sick children in hospital and patrionising that his animals aren’t his pets but friends. But credit lies where it’s due. There’s a certain stylish quality to its treatment and texture, accentuated by Dion Beebe’s spiffy camera work.

It’s a good-looking film, often punctuated by montages such as his Billie Jean act on the Motown 25th anniversary special, Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough, Human Nature and Bad. Yes, most of it is fan service to put it plainly, but it makes for a nostalgic joyride, often reminding you of the euphoria that the transcendent musical sensation was known for giving rise to.

There are moments that try to explore the complexities and emotional layers of Michael, especially as he takes control of his life, career and image, and before they could tug at your heartstrings, the makers suddenly pull back and realise that flaws and vulnerabilities are meant to be sanitised. Nonetheless, there are some moments that will stay back with – at least till the film is over.

In a sequence where Michael goes to a club in Los Angeles, he draws inspiration from a bunch of mobsters and derives the moves for Beat It, which then becomes his trademark move and a way to channel his rage. Not legal settlements or PR battles or scandals, but the only villain in this rags-to-riches story is the father, Joe Jackson, who beats him up with a belt and hurls, “Remember your family, Michael!”

What’s finally left to watch are music-industry stalwarts eulogising Michael and his extraordinary talent. Apart from some important and watershed plot points and moments, the film also steers clear from nuance, following a rather linear narrative, trapped by the straitjacket of morality. But this need to keep it glossy strips the complicated parts of Michael’s life, leaving an underwhelming void for the audience.

As for the performances, Jaafar is inconsistent. Sometimes, he fails to capture the aura of his uncle but that could be a result of his lack of experience as a first-time actor. But eugenics speak as he nails his uncle’s voice and electrifying moves. Colman Domingo as Joe is impressive and is barely recognisable under heavy prosthetic make-up. Miles Teller and John Branca don’t leave any real impact. As for Michael’s sister Janet Jackson, she’s crossed out completely.

This biopic (hagiography, more aptly) is bland and even shallow. An artist of this legendary status deserved more, his fans deserved more and so did naysayers. A well-rounded, balanced portrayal of his life and times is definitely not what the makers had set out for. Sure, you’ll get to see a version of him, up-close-and-personal, but through rose-tinted glasses. But there’s good news. The film closes with, “The story continues…” Hopefully, there’s a sequel in store that will shed light on the darker realities of this icon.