Michael: brilliant, captivating – and too good to be true

Luca Fontana

21.4.2026

Translation: Katherine Martin

Antoine Fuqua’s Michael Jackson biopic is a spectacular piece of cinema, brimming with power and emotion. But the control exerted by the King of Pop’s estate is palpable.

Don’t worry, this review contains zero spoilers. Everything mentioned here has already been revealed in trailers. Michael hits theatres on 22 April. It’s the first film in a planned two-part series.

Jeez. Could Digitec have asked a less suitable reviewer to write an objective take on Michael? Not really.

From the very first beat of the Jackson Five’s I Want You Back, I could barely stop myself from lip-synching. I was tapping my feet and nodding my head to the music. At the part when Michael Jackson gives his legendary performance of Billie Jean at the Motown 25 celebrations in 1983 – the night the world saw the moonwalk (https://youtu.be/CauNjt2j-BM) for the first time – I briefly stopped being a film critic.

Suddenly, I was the kid who’d loved Jackson’s music for as long as he could remember once again.

You should know that Michael Jackson was one of my first idols. Long before I’d heard anything about the scandals, allegations or Neverland, there was simply the music. The moves. The spectacle. That’s certainly how he presented himself – the child who never grew up, the fairy-tale character, someone you could love, admire and worship without ever having to question it. And I didn’t question it. I was eight years old.

As for what emerged later on, I was reluctant to delve too deeply. That’s no excuse. But it does explain why I left the cinema feeling two conflicting emotions at once. One the one hand, genuine enthusiasm, on the other, a quiet, nagging sense of unease. Antoine Fuqua’s Michael is compelling. There’s no doubt about that. But that’s exactly the problem.

Cinema as it should be – and rarely is these days

Let’s start with the technical skill that’s gone into the film. It deserves praise. No caveats necessary. For one thing, Michael actually looks like a film – and isn’t ashamed to look that way either. There’s the grainy picture, the sharp contrasts. And colours! Rich, popping colours, free of the digital sterility we’ve been sold as the cinematic norm after a decade of streaming and over 15 years of Marvel.

This is hardly surprising. Antoine Fuqua, best known for Training Day, isn’t just a master of his craft – he’s also a director with a distinctive style. Someone who knows how to make a film feel tangible, even within the major studio system. The stage scenes in particular have an almost irresistible pull, the editing, camera movements and composition all coming together seamlessly. It all just falls into place.

And the music? It’s Michael Jackson we’re talking about here, people. Of course it’s good.

However, Fuqua doesn’t stop at just good direction. He understands that a film about Michael Jackson also has to be a film about the spectacle and the almost irrational power arising from one person standing on stage while 10,000 people collectively lose their minds.

For the two hours I spend in the cinema, I forget that it’s 2026 outside. Here in this screening, Michael Jackson’s still in his early twenties, at the height of his power. And there’s not a single reason to doubt that he’ll become the greatest pop star the world’s ever seen.

The father, the regime and the lost child

All of this works because at the centre of it, there’s someone I believe in: Jaafar Jackson, Michael Jackson’s nephew and a first-time actor. And yes, he’s an absolute revelation. You see, what he delivers in Michael isn’t an imitation of Jackson, but something rarer and more difficult – an embodiment.

The body language, the posture, the way Jaafar walks on stage – it all comes together so darn perfectly that it seems almost spooky at times. It’s as if a young, revitalised Michael Jackson has risen from the dead to put on one more greatest show on earth. Whether Jaafar’s singing, dancing or just standing there in silence, I believe him. Completely.

His performance is made even more remarkable because the film provides a solid foundation for it. What Michael does surprisingly well is its portrayal of Joseph Jackson, Michael Jackson’s father. Rather than simply playing him as a cartoon villain, Colman Domingo portrays Michael’s father as a controlled tyrant. A former steelworker who sees something in his children that he himself never achieved. Someone who’s willing to pursue that ambition at any cost. Even despite the cost borne by his children.

By doing this, Michael lays the psychological groundwork for everything that’d come later. A child who’s a global star before he’s even turned ten. One whose fame leaves him isolated, as he’s denied the opportunity to have friends, a childhood, a safe haven. Instead, he’s drilled by a father with no inclination for affection, and idolised by an audience in a way that can’t replace genuine connection.

In light of this, it’s hardly surprising that Jackson later retreated into a childlike state in an attempt to make up for what he’d missed out on. The film shows this too. It shows how all these events could produce a man who’d build himself a massive ranch, name it Neverland so he’d never grow up there, and even admit he didn’t see anything wrong with sharing a bed with children. That’s as honest as the biopic dares to be.

The thing is, Michael doesn’t actually show any of the things I’ve just mentioned. And that’s a problem.

The massive elephant in the screening room

Michael, the first instalment in a planned two-part series, as was confirmed just a few months ago, ends in around 1988, at the moral peak of Jackson’s career. This was before the scandals, Neverland, the allegations and everything else that would permanently tarnish his image after 1993.

I don’t want to pass judgment here – neither on Jackson nor on his accusers. That’s not a film review’s job, and it’s not mine either. But here’s what I can say: a biopic claiming to portray a person in their entirety needs to be willing to deal with the painful stuff. Not cut away at the most convenient moment.

Recent films have proven that a biopic doesn’t have to go easy on its subject. In Better Man, Robbie Williams was played by a CGI chimpanzee – and gave his approval to a film depicting him as an egomaniac, an addict and an emotional wreck. Elton John felt that the rough cut of Rocketman was too tame, insisting on reshoots so that his drug escapades weren’t portrayed as more harmless than they really were.

Both films were praised by critics. Better Man, however, flopped at the box office. Unjustly so. If you feel put off by the CGI chimp, watch the film anyway. It genuinely deserves to be seen.

By contrast, Michael will undoubtedly be met with the opposite response – packed cinemas, buzzing fans and millions at the box office. Maybe billions. That says more about us than about the film, myself included. I’m actually going to see Michael a second time at the cinema. Of course I am.

When I do, I’ll also know what I’m watching: a film that puts Michael Jackson on a very high moral pedestal, showing him buying toys for children, visiting them in the hospital, referring to his fans as «family» and wanting to bring «his light» to the world. Joseph Jackson is the perfect antagonist, aptly explaining everything Michael would later be accused of – and in doing so, almost imperceptibly absolving him of guilt and responsibility.

Let’s face it – at worst, Jackson abused children. At best, his behaviour around children was highly inappropriate. As much as I acknowledge his childhood and the good intentions behind his record-breaking humanitarian work, that’s not something that can simply be dismissed.

The film, on the other hand, mentions none of it.

Who decides what goes into a film?

This isn’t as surprising once you find out who produced the film. Michael is a co-production of the Jackson estate. More specifically John Branca, Jackson’s longtime attorney and current executor, and Jackson’s son Prince, the film’s executive producer. And anyone who manages an artist’s estate has a vital interest in how future generations will remember them.

According to a report by Variety, the original screenplay actually included a third act addressing the 1993 abuse allegations – from Jackson’s perspective, of course. However, it was painstakingly cut out at a cost of about 15 million dollars, paid for by the estate itself. The reason? A legal clause in the 1993 settlement agreement prohibiting any cinematic portrayals of the plaintiff at the time.

How exactly that could’ve gone unnoticed until months after filming ended is a mystery to me. What it means for the finished film is that it ends rather abruptly at the height of Jackson’s career in 1988. Of course, with the caveat that the story will be continued. Someday. Hopefully.

The official statement, on the other hand, is that they simply had too much good material to fit into a single film. The fact that this very part, cut from the film at a cost of 15 million dollars, is now apparently set to be released in a watered-down version as Part Two gives this justification a peculiar feel to it. I suspect there’s a different reason behind the decision, but everyone’s free to form their own opinion on that.

Of course, there’s a counter-argument: «Luca, the film ends in 1988. What did you expect? A biopic about the rise of Michael Jackson’s allowed to end at the peak of his career. That’s not sugarcoating – it’s dramatisation.» That’s a fair point. However, it assumes Part Two will actually fill that gap and live up to the stage Part One has so carefully set. I certainly hope so. But I doubt it.

Not while there’s a civil lawsuit pending against the Jackson estate, which – once again – involves abuse allegations.

Luca Fontana

Senior Editor

Luca.Fontana@digitecgalaxus.ch

I write about technology as if it were cinema, and about films as if they were real life. Between bits and blockbusters, I’m after stories that move people, not just generate clicks. And yes – sometimes I listen to film scores louder than I probably should.

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