Michael (2025) Movie Review: The Biopic We Needed?

The narrative arc of “Michael” follows a familiar rise-and-fall-then-rise-again structure, but screenwriters (based on a story by John Logan) wisely anchor it to a specific period: Jackson’s journey from the Jackson 5’s Motown heyday through the release of “Off the Wall” and “Thriller.” We open on a young Michael (Juliano Krue Valdi, uncanny in his mimicry) being pushed into the spotlight by a domineering yet charismatic Joseph Jackson (Colman Domingo, giving his most volcanic performance since “Rustin”). The story traces his evolution from a precocious child star to a solitary young man struggling to reconcile his father’s demands with his own creative vision. The film is unafraid to show the bruises - literal and emotional - but never wallows. Instead, it builds toward the galvanizing liberation of Jackson taking control of his own sound, his own image, and his own destiny. Key supporting characters - Berry Gordy (Larenz Tate), Suzanne de Passe (Laura Harrier), attorney John Branca (Miles Teller) - serve as both enablers and obstacles, each with their own agenda. The script wisely avoids a direct depiction of the 1993 or 2005 legal battles, a choice that may frustrate sensationalists but that ultimately allows the film to focus on the one thing Jackson cared about most: the music.

Antoine Fuqua has never made a film quite like this. Known for gritty, male-centric dramas (“Training Day,” “The Equalizer”), he brings a muscular visual language to the dance sequences - the famous Motown 25 “Billie Jean” performance is staged with the kinetic intensity of a thriller. But Fuqua also shows a surprising tenderness in quieter moments: a late-night phone call between Jackson and his mother Katherine (Nia Long, understated and heartbreaking) or an early studio session where Michael hums a melody until his brother Marlon falls asleep. The film’s greatest weapon, however, is Jaafar Jackson. He doesn’t impersonate his uncle so much as inhabit him. From the precise placement of a fedora to the stutter-step moonwalk, his physicality is eerie and electric. But more importantly, he captures the loneliness behind the smile - the way Jackson’s eyes would go vacant between takes, as if he were already composing his next masterpiece.

Colman Domingo’s Joseph Jackson is a controlled hurricane - a man who knows he is abusive but believes it is the only way to forge greatness. Miles Teller’s John Branca provides a lean, efficient counterweight, a lawyer who sees the business before the man. And Larenz Tate’s Berry Gordy offers the film’s most complex moral dilemma: a mentor who gave the Jacksons their start but never let them forget he owned the finish line. The performances are uniformly strong, and the production design - particularly the recreation of the Jackson family home in Gary, Indiana - feels lived-in and specific.

But the film is not flawless. The middle third drags slightly as it cycles through record deals and studio squabbles. Some transitions between young Michael and adult Michael feel abrupt, and the script occasionally leans on exposition (characters saying “You’re going to change the world” when we already know it). Yet the final act - a triumphant, near-wordless sequence stitching together the “Thriller” video shoot and a riotous Victory Tour rehearsal - lands with the force of a perfect pop hook. You leave the theater not with questions about his personal life, but with the primal understanding of why he mattered.

Pros

• Jaafar Jackson gives a star-making, uncanny performance that transcends mimicry.
• Antoine Fuqua directs dance sequences with visceral, cinematic energy.
• Colman Domingo delivers a nuanced, terrifying turn as Joseph Jackson.
• The film respects Michael’s artistry even as it acknowledges his exploitation.
• Production design and sound mixing (especially the live vocals) are top-tier.

Cons

• The narrative pace slackens in the second act, with too many boardroom scenes.
• Some supporting characters (particularly Bill Bray, played by KeiLyn Durrel Jones) are underutilized.
• The film avoids any direct mention of later controversies, which may feel evasive to some.
• A few songs feel shoehorned in rather than earned by the story.

“Michael” is not the definitive biography - it’s too careful, too focused on one era to claim that mantle. But it is a deeply felt, gorgeously performed tribute to the craft of pop stardom, one that understands that Michael Jackson’s greatest creation was always himself. In an age of disposable biopics, Fuqua’s film insists that the man behind the glove deserves to be remembered for his work, not merely his wounds. For fans, it’s a celebration. For skeptics, it’s a conversation starter. For everyone, it’s a reminder that genius is rarely comfortable - and never simple. Highly recommended.