The new Michael Jackson biopic doesn’t overtly employ artificial intelligence in its creation, yet the experience of watching it feels eerily…synthetic. It’s a sensation akin to endlessly scrolling through AI-generated images – knowing they aren’t real, but unable to look away.
Moviegoers entering the theater are aware that Jaafar Jackson *isn’t* Michael Jackson. However, the film quickly induces a strange trance. Jaafar’s resemblance is uncanny – the look, the voice, the very essence – almost perfectly replicated. A subtle imperfection lingers, a distortion in the imitation, mirroring the unsettling quality often found in true AI creations.
This resemblance isn’t accidental. Jaafar Jackson is Michael’s nephew, the son of Jermaine. Cast solely on familial likeness, he embodies a replication strategy that permeates the entire film. The movie meticulously recreates iconic Jackson moments – the Ed Sullivan Show, the “Thriller” video, Bubbles the chimp – but offers no deeper understanding of their significance. It prioritizes imitation over insight.
The film succeeds, in a peculiar way, at this replication. Jaafar *is* Michael incarnate, supported by painstakingly accurate sets, costumes, and hairstyles. But to what purpose? The original performances are readily available online. Why pay to witness a convincing, yet ultimately artificial, version of something already accessible?
The script doesn’t strive for profound depth. Young Michael, and later his adult counterpart, are portrayed as gentle and timid, constantly overshadowed by his domineering father, Joseph. Colman Domingo’s portrayal of Joseph isn’t nuanced; he’s a simple tyrant driven to escape the Indiana steel mills through his sons’ success. The film excels at surface-level accuracy, with actors resembling their real-life counterparts to an almost unsettling degree.
The narrative unfolds as a series of fleeting scenes, stitched together in montages and underscored by Jackson 5 and Michael’s solo hits, culminating with the *Bad* album. It’s a “I Want You Back” to *Bad* biopic, yet still feels remarkably overstuffed. The film jumps between nightclub performances, hurried rehearsals, and road trips, attempting to capture the whirlwind of Jackson’s early life.
Instead of genuine psychological exploration, the film relies on pop culture references to define Michael’s character. The Three Stooges, Peter Pan, and a stuffed Mickey Mouse are presented not as simple childhood influences, but as profound keys to understanding his inner world. It’s a substitution of substance with superficiality.
Beyond Michael, other figures remain largely undeveloped. The Jackson 5’s brothers are relegated to the background, receiving little meaningful dialogue. The inclusion of attorney John Branca, and the revelation of his producer credit, raises questions about the film’s objectivity, alongside numerous other “Jackson” family members involved in the production.
The film prioritizes recreating famous moments, like the making of the “Thriller” video. Jaafar’s transformation is convincing, and the resemblance to director John Landis is striking. But beyond the visual spectacle, what is gained? Disturbingly, scenes like Michael’s hospital visit take on an unintended, ominous quality, a blind spot in the film’s narrative.
Perhaps the greatest disservice the film delivers is its underestimation of Michael Jackson’s intelligence. The groundbreaking creativity behind *Thriller* is reduced to a simple ambition: “It’s got to be the greatest-selling album of all-time.” This diminishes the artistry and ingenuity that defined his career.
Despite its flaws, the film is strangely captivating. It possesses the insidious allure of AI-generated content – a mindless consumption that leaves you strangely satisfied, yet ultimately empty. Like an endless bag of chips, it’s difficult to stop, even knowing it offers little real nourishment. And, ominously, the film concludes with the promise of a sequel: “His Story Continues.”
