Here now, a brief four months after his untimely death, is the vindication that Michael Jackson’s fans have been waiting for. This Is It, for better or worse, is the last word on Jackson as a performer and it’s presented here as the ‘dream’ of a concert that no one will ever get to see. It has been assembled from more than 100 hours of footage and pieced together with the oversight of the Jackson estate and the concert’s director, Kenny Ortega.
As someone who was never truly drawn in by Jackson’s celebrity, or the unsavory fashion in which the media dealt with him, I walked away from This Is It surprised and pleased. Whatever else he had been or done in the last 15 years or so, Ortega’s chronicle of Michael’s final endeavor places him back in the role he was always most suited to: entertainer.
Fans of Jackson may stop reading this review now and get in line for their tickets. In the theater where I was, the audience frequently sang along, cheered for him, and clapped and laughed at signature moves or moments of ingenuity and flair. Not so easily won over, I grudgingly endured talking heads of Jackson’s dance troupe blubbering about their dreams and scenes of Ortega and company all too willingly exclaiming “I think you’re right, Michael!” And yet, when the 50-year-old performer is in his element, nimbly waltzing through the moves and vocals of ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’ it is hard not to be thrilled by the talent on display.
I had honestly forgotten what a great dancer he was, and even here, in spite of the insanity of his off-set life, he’s more energetic, on-target and in control of his art than several other long-running performers I could name. I had half expected to see a frayed and off-kilter Michael being led about by Ortega, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Jackson is constantly correcting himself and others, consistently gentle and with a clear intent. He knows what he wants, is always on the path to achieving it and never seems overly daunted by the size and complexity of the task at hand. Watching him at work, he displays all the naiveté, showmanship and absurdity that made him both loved and derided.
What really works in the film’s favor and makes it successful as entertainment is the way in which it gets to be intimate and investigative in the details of show production without being a character autopsy of Jackson. The show is huge, and some of the set pieces would be magnificently difficult to pull off in a feature film, let alone a concert venue. Always a sucker for the technology, Jackson inserts himself into scenes with Rita Hayworth and Humphrey Bogart for ‘Smooth Criminal’ and later works with Ortega to create 3-D ghouls for a lively rendition of ‘Thriller’. The real shame here is not being able to see how these moments would have finally come together.
Not all of it is perfect, and the eco-friendly portion of the show that sees Michael looming over the audience in a cherry picker while a cinematic rainforest burns in the background, is too long by half. The rest, though, is oddly engaging for a film that doesn’t offer anything new in terms of insight or interest. Maybe that is the draw. Watching Jackson patiently train his dancers and calibrate his voice by studying his own dance moves erases all the daft headlines and ridiculous stunts. It sets him firmly where he began: onstage providing escapism and entertainment about as well as anyone can. If there has to be a final curtain call for the King of Pop, I’m glad This Is It.
