Built around familiar biopic beats, Michael (2026) directed by Antoine Fuqua leans heavily on iconic moments and emotional shortcuts, but keeps everything at a distance, avoiding the messier realities and never quite becoming the powerful story it could have been.
Michael is nothing more than a nauseatingly superficial attempt to approach the legacy of an icon who is still one of the most talked-about figures and whose songs continue to be streamed billions of times, nearly two decades after his death. The fact that the Jackson family was directly involved in the entire production process never leaves your mind for even a second while watching the film.
The depth, courage, and cinematic power one would expect from a director like Antoine Fuqua are nowhere to be found here. At times, it feels as if Fuqua was paid merely to lend his name to the credits, while the actual film was handed off to a second-unit director or the cinematographer.
For a long time now, musician biopics have failed to be anything more than vehicles for profiting off an artist’s name and legacy. While there were one or two strong exceptions in the early 2000s, the success of Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) triggered a full-scale industry rush toward this formula, repeated ad nauseam: make the lead actor resemble the artist as closely as possible through prosthetics and makeup, line up the greatest hits back-to-back, recreate a few iconic concerts, and recycle the same redemption arc as if every artist had lived the same life.
Michael is, unfortunately, yet another product of this factory mindset. It feels as careless and unethical as a cheaply built house thrown together in haste constructed quickly, poorly, and without integrity.
The film deliberately confines Michael Jackson’s life to the period between the late 1960s and 1988. The intention behind this choice is impossible to ignore: by excluding the sexual abuse allegations, addictions, and controversies of the 1990s and beyond, the film remains “safe” and family-friendly.
During the Jackson 5 era, we see how Joe Jackson (Colman Domingo) raised his children under near military discipline—through physical abuse and at the expense of their education. Michael’s shyness, his inability to look his father in the eye, and the scenes of him being beaten with a belt are genuinely disturbing. Domingo’s performance here is chilling and convincing; it provides the film’s only real spark of acting.
As the story moves into his solo career, there are moments where Michael struggles to connect with people his own age and instead forms bonds with animals, including his chimpanzee Bubbles. These scenes carry the potential for a profound exploration of his loneliness and traumatic childhood.
But the film stubbornly refuses every such opportunity. Instead, it transforms everything into a glossy portrait of the King of Pop. Even the Pepsi accident is stripped of its tragedy and reframed as a kind of “sacred ordeal”—a messianic narrative of trial and triumph. Michael’s inner world, his flaws, and his traumas are never examined with any depth. Everything is conveniently attributed to his father or brushed aside.
Janet Jackson is entirely absent from the film—as if she never existed in Michael’s life. This is no coincidence: she reportedly declined to be part of the project. Given the family tensions and past disputes over inheritance, her absence further exposes the film as an “approved narrative.”
In the end, Michael has no real interest in telling Michael Jackson’s story or honoring the legacy he left on the history of world music. It doesn’t even seem interested in being a film. Its only aim is to sell nostalgia—play the greatest hits and present the sanitized image the family wants. Far from the artistic depth and courage one would expect from a film bearing Antoine Fuqua’s name, it struggles to rise above the quality of a mediocre television production. Considering the sheer magnitude of Michael Jackson’s legacy, any film about him should have been equally monumental. This one, unfortunately, doesn’t come anywhere close.
That concludes our review of Michael
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