JAMESFEST #3: The Man in the Mirror

The musical vibes continued, sort of, with James’ next pick: The VH1 original movie Man in the Mirror: a biopic about the King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson. I say “sort of” because the film did not have the rights to any of Jackson’s music. Making a biopic about a musician when you don’t have the rights to play any of their songs is literally a joke straight out of 30 Rock. In fairness to the filmmakers, they did have the rights to actually portray MJ and his life on the screen, instead of creating a character named, like… Mitchell Johnsdad. No, this is actually about the real guy Michael Jackson, and the 2004 film goes deep into the ups and downs of his life all the way up to 2003, just prior to Jackson’s criminal trial for child molestation.

The film starts strong with a shadowy figure performing the famous MJ dance moves against young Jackson’s bedroom wall. This is, presumably, to gesture at the way that Jackson’s persona as the King of Pop became so far removed from the man himself that, like Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, he is merely a shadow of himself, cast against a wall for us to worship. Unfortunately, the scene in question looks more like The Hat Man described by TikTok zoomers when they overdose on Benadryl. These dance moves are accompanied by a combination of drumming and cymbals that sound like walking into a jazz bar right as a set ends.

Immediately, it becomes clear that all the way to the test screenings, the filmmakers had full confidence that they were going to clear the music rights. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such obvious temp tracks in a released film before. It’s unbelievably distracting, and at no point in the film’s runtime does it get any less so. There is a pure hubris to making a biopic about one of the most famous musicians to ever live when the right to actually play any of his songs in the movie is at all in doubt. As an American, I am predisposed to sympathize with creative arrogance (thanks, James Cameron), and, despite my critical faculties, I am agog and somewhat charmed that this movie even exists in the form it does.

That said, there is also a plot involved, and as it follows Jackson’s life, I’m reminded less of 30 Rock and more of Walk Hard: foreshadowing of famous MJ moments are delivered with all the care of late-era Marvel movies turning directly to the audience to reference whatever D-list superhero will be cameoing in future installments. As Jackson prepares for the Pepsi commercial that famously left him horrifically burned, he tells his dad he “has a bad feeling about this.” As they walk through rehearsal, a firework suddenly explodes in the background as MJ flinches. Immediately after, his dad negotiates how long the camera/the flames will be on Jackson’s face.

 After being horrifically burned, MJ drifts into a hazy remembrance of his dad cursing him out over his “big nose.” These scenes have a near-identical forced solemnity of the mom in Walk Hard telling a young Dewey that he’ll never be famous. It’s like listening to a child’s joke: We already know the punchline, but we’re waiting patiently and pretending to be surprised.

It’s all deeply predetermined and, for what won’t be the first time today, I start to wonder what connects all these movies. My first guess is musicals or child-like wonder, but James denies it almost instantly. Ah, well.

Back to The Man in the Mirror: If I were to guess at the ideal audience for this film, it would be someone who just hours prior finished reading a glowing biography of Michael Jackson’s life. As a character in the film, it’s unclear what really happens on a scene-to-scene basis. As a thrilling narrative of the legendary musician, well, they can’t use any of his songs. As a take-no-prisoners look at the real man behind the music, they clearly hedge their bets by heavily implying that Jackson just liked hanging out with kids with no malicious motives. If not for the fact that it even showcases major scandals like MJ holding baby Blanket out the window, Jackson’s sister publicly severing ties with her brother, or one of Jackson’s alleged victims uncomfortably confirming that he and Jackson slept in the same bed, it would almost seem like a full-throated defense of the pop star’s life.

As is, the movie is simply confusing and confused—characters drift in and out of the movie as if they’re cameoing in a single episode on a long-running television series. The film sprints through every notable moment in Jackson’s life so fast that it borders on intentional comedy. One standout scene has MJ playing with his kids and saying “I’m never going to forget this day as long as I live,” moments before seeing footage of the 9/11 terror attacks on TV. That is, again, a joke straight out of Walk Hard.

But those moments of humor (intentional or otherwise) obscure what is a movie so misguided that it borders on evil. It’s not clear to me what about Jackson’s music or his persona was so interesting to the filmmakers. They obviously can’t use his music, but they also present him as a stunted child who never hurt anyone and had no ill-intentions toward anybody. He becomes an almost Christ-like figure, giving his all to his fans, in search of love but drawn toward the solemn duty to be a musical icon instead of the child he wanted to be. Considering all of the extremely disturbing evidence to the contrary, it almost feels like creative malpractice to make a film that acknowledges the controversies of his life without ever making a real point.

The film ends with Jackson delivering an impassioned speech about his innocence in the then-upcoming criminal trial as the camera lingers on individual fans staring directly at the camera. Delightfully, the computer file chose this exact moment to stutter and distort the frame, pixelating each face to the point that they were unrecognizable as people. Their features darkened, faces stretched to impossible angles, and whatever humanity might have lingered behind those eyes were rendered incomprehensible by the device meant to showcase them. A better metaphor for the film than anything within it.

This is Part 3 of Jamesfest.

Previous: Junior High School | Next: Mouse Heaven

If you enjoyed this article, please consider becoming a patron of Hyperreal Film Journal for as low as $3 a month!