I walked into Michael, the long-awaited biopic on Michael Joseph Jackson, with a strange mix of excitement, defensiveness, and something close to gratitude. As someone who has loved him not just as an artist but as a person, I wasn’t just watching a film. I was watching a legacy being negotiated in real time, once again, between the public that still embraces him and a media establishment that has never quite known what to do with that love.

And if there’s one thing this film has made abundantly clear, it’s this: the public has already made up its mind.

Not the critics. Not the headlines. The people.

The Press vs. The People

The reaction from major publications was, frankly, predictable. The BBC called the film “bland and barely competent.” The Guardian dismissed it as “bland and bad.” The Independent labelled it “ghoulish and soulless,” while The Washington Times didn’t hesitate to brand it “terrible.”

It’s almost impressive how consistent the language is, “bland,” “sanitised,” repeated across outlets like a script being passed around. And I can’t help but notice how many of these publications sit under the same corporate umbrellas. Coincidence? Maybe. But as someone who has followed Michael Jackson’s treatment in the media for years, it feels less like an independent critique and more like a familiar chorus.

Because here’s the truth: the press has never been comfortable with the fact that people still love Michael Jackson.

And yet, despite the headlines, audiences are filling theatres. The film is a box office success, already ranking as the second-highest-grossing musical biopic ever, while Michael himself remains the most-streamed artist in the world. That disconnect between critical disdain and public embrace isn’t new. It’s just more visible now.

A “Sanitised” Story That Isn’t

One of the most repeated criticisms is that Michael is “sanitised.” I honestly don’t know what film these critics watched.

This biopic doesn’t shy away from pain. It shows the physical abuse Michael endured at the hands of his father, Joe Jackson, a reality documented not just by Michael, but by his family and witnesses over decades. It portrays the ridicule he faced over his appearance, the isolation that defined much of his life, and his struggle with vitiligo, a condition confirmed in his 2009 autopsy.

It even recreates the horrifying Pepsi commercial accident that left him with severe burns to his scalp, an incident that could have ended his life.

If that’s “sanitised,” then the word has lost all meaning.

What the film doesn’t do, at least not yet, is dwell extensively on the allegations that have haunted his legacy. And I understand why that frustrates some viewers. But I also understand something else: Michael Jackson never hid from those accusations. He addressed them publicly, repeatedly, and stood trial in 2005, where he was found not guilty by a jury.

The film’s decision to focus elsewhere doesn’t erase that history; it simply chooses not to centre it. And frankly, after decades of those narratives dominating the conversation, I didn’t mind a film that chose to explore the human being behind the headlines.

A Flawed Film… and a Powerful Experience

Let me be honest: Michael is not a perfect film. In fact, structurally, it’s often messy.

The storytelling feels uneven, jumping between moments rather than building a cohesive narrative. Key relationships, especially with his siblings like Janet Jackson, are either minimised or absent entirely. Entire chapters of his life, from The Wiz to “We Are the World,” are missing, likely due to rights issues and industry politics.

At times, the film reduces complex realities into simplistic tropes. Joe Jackson becomes the singular villain, while the broader music industry, arguably just as exploitative, is softened into the background. Figures like John Branca are elevated in ways that feel… convenient.

There are also moments that are just plain bizarre, like the heavy use of CGI Bubbles the chimp, clearly intended as comic relief but often landing somewhere between surreal and distracting.

And yet… despite all of that, I had a great time.

Because Then the Music Starts

The moment the music kicks in, everything changes.

This is where Michael stops being a flawed biopic and becomes something else entirely, a visceral, electrifying tribute to one of the greatest musical legacies in history.

When “Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough” builds to that iconic crescendo, I couldn’t help myself, I did the “whoo.” Out loud. Instinctively. And I wasn’t alone. Around me, other voices joined in, followed by a shared laugh of recognition.

That’s the power of Michael Jackson.

The film recreates his performances with astonishing detail. The “Beat It” choreography is a standout, precise, deliberate, and alive with the same tension and unity that made the original so iconic. The “Thriller” sequences are staged with reverence, capturing not just the moves but the cinematic ambition that redefined music videos forever.

We see the moonwalk treated like a cultural event, and in the theatre, it felt like one. People cheered. They clapped. They sang along. For a moment, it wasn’t 2026, it was 1983 again.

Even smaller moments hit hard. The three Michaels are dancing together. The popcorn-eating grin. The sheer joy of performance. These aren’t just callbacks; they’re reminders of why his music became part of our collective DNA.

Jaafar Jackson, Michael’s nephew, may not be a seasoned actor, but when he performs, something almost uncanny happens. He doesn’t just imitate Michael, he channels him. The movements, the energy, the presence, it’s as close as we’re ever likely to get.

The Film That Explains Everything… and Nothing

And yet, for all its spectacle, Michael leaves you with a strange emptiness.

It shows you everything: childhood trauma, global superstardom, artistic genius, but somehow explains very little. The transitions are rushed. The emotional depth often feels just out of reach. You see the moments, but you don’t always feel their full weight.

At times, Michael himself feels oddly passive, as if events are happening around him rather than being driven by him. The film touches on his complexities, his vulnerability, his eccentricities, but rarely lingers long enough to truly explore them.

It’s as if the movie is afraid of its own subject.

And Yet, I’m Still Grateful

Because here’s where I stand, as a fan:

I know this isn’t the definitive Michael Jackson story. That film may never exist. His life was too vast, too contradictory, too scrutinised to ever be neatly packaged into a single biopic.

But I also know this: Michael does not vilify him. It does not reduce him to the caricature that the media spent decades constructing. And in today’s climate, that alone feels like a small victory.

I would have liked more nuance. I would have liked a deeper exploration of the controversies, not as sensationalism, but as context. But I’m also relieved that the film didn’t turn into another piece of propaganda against him.

Instead, it chose to celebrate what brought us here in the first place: the music.

The Final Say

What fascinates me most about this entire moment isn’t the film itself, it’s the reaction to it.

The critics can call it bland. They can dismiss it, dissect it, and write it off. But they can’t stop people from showing up. They can’t stop audiences from singing along, from doing the “whoo,” from remembering why Michael Jackson mattered.

Because in the end, the legacy of Michael Jackson doesn’t belong to the press.

It belongs to us.

And sitting in that theatre, surrounded by strangers who knew every beat, every lyric, every move, I felt something that no review could ever capture.

Not just nostalgia.

Not just admiration.

But a quiet, stubborn kind of joy that, after everything, after the headlines, the allegations, the endless attempts to redefine him, the world still remembers Michael Jackson in a positive light.

And honestly?

That’s exactly how it should be.

*Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Vygr’s views.

With inputs from agencies

Image Source: Multiple agencies

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