From its opening moments, the film announces its intentions loud and clear, kicking off with “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” and immediately immersing the audience in the electricity that defined Jackson’s artistry. The first act wisely grounds itself in Michael’s origins, charting his early years in the Jackson 5 and the family dynamic that both shaped and scarred him. It’s here where the film finds some of its most compelling dramatic footing.

Colman Domingo delivers a genuinely unsettling performance as Joe Jackson, portraying him not just as a strict patriarch but as an imposing, often frightening force. Domingo has proven time and again that he can tap into morally complex, even cruel characters, and this may be one of his most chilling turns yet. The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the abusive environment Michael grew up in, and those moments can be difficult to watch, but they also serve as the emotional backbone of the story.

The throughline of control—Joe’s relentless need to dominate his family—becomes the engine that drives Michael’s ambition, his perfectionism, and ultimately his need to escape. Young Michael is brought to life with remarkable precision by Juliano Krue Valdi, who captures both the innocence and the astonishing talent of a child already operating at a superstar level. Whether performing “I Want You Back” or “ABC,” Valdi embodies the charisma and showmanship that made the Jackson 5 such a phenomenon.

These early musical sequences are bursting with life, staged with a vibrancy that feels like time travel. As the film transitions into Michael’s solo career, Jaafar Jackson takes center stage, and it’s here that the film truly becomes something special. His performance is nothing short of transformative.

The vocal work alone is impressive, achieved through a seamless blend of original recordings and Jaafar’s own singing. The transitions are virtually undetectable, preserving the authenticity of Michael’s voice while still allowing Jaafar to inhabit the role fully. Even more astonishing is his physical performance.

Jaafar doesn’t just mimic Michael Jackson’s dance style; he channels it. The precision, the fluidity, the almost supernatural control of movement—it’s all there. Watching him recreate Michael’s signature choreography feels like witnessing a resurrection of one of the greatest performers in music history.

Whether he’s crafting the choreography for “Beat It” or bringing the legendary “Thriller” music video to life, the film is at its absolute best when it leans into these moments of pure performance. And there are a lot of them. At times, the film unapologetically prioritizes spectacle over narrative momentum.

Scenes will linger on musical numbers, stretching them out not because the story or characters demand it, but because the audience wants it. And honestly, it works. These sequences are so electrifying, so meticulously crafted, that it’s hard to complain when the plot takes a backseat.

This is a film designed for fans, and it understands that Michael Jackson’s music is the main attraction. That said, the film’s biggest weakness is also hard to ignore. Michael feels undeniably sanitized.

With the involvement of Michael Jackson’s estate, the portrayal is carefully curated to present him in an overwhelmingly positive light. The film frames Michael almost entirely as a victim — of his upbringing, of fame, of the pressures placed upon him — while avoiding any exploration of his controversies or personal flaws. Moments meant to humanize him, such as visits to children’s hospitals or scenes of him at home with his chimpanzee, reinforce a singular image: Michael as a gentle, misunderstood figure.

While this approach aligns with the film’s celebratory tone, it also limits its depth. The narrative can feel one-note at times, lacking the complexity that defines the most compelling biographical dramas. There’s little sense of internal conflict beyond what was imposed on him by others, and as a result, the character risks feeling more myth than man.

The estate’s involvement with the film is also linked to the fact that Janet Jackson essentially does not exist in this movie at all (though her story is enough for its own movie). Still, even when the storytelling feels safe, the craftsmanship and performances keep the film engaging. Nia Long brings warmth and empathy as Katherine Jackson, offering a counterbalance to Joe’s harshness.

And every time the film returns to the stage, it regains its pulse. These are the moments where the film transcends its limitations, reminding us why Michael J