There’s a simple disclaimer at the beginning of Michael Jackson’s This Is It. It reads, “For the fans.” It shouldn’t be ignored. Those that stuck with the troubled pop icon after his universe shifted from the charts to the tabloids probably will find equal measures of inspiration and heartbreak in the documentary. For everyone else, it’s a strange offering.
Pieced together using a reported 120 hours of rehearsal footage shot at Los Angeles’ Staples Center just before Jackson’s death on June 25, it’s a concert film without an audience. There’s no discernible beginning or end. It’s padded with mind-numbing scenes of dancers learning their moves. And the star, whose name appears in the title, seems completely unaware that he’s on camera.
Directed by Kenny Ortega, the choreographer who was helping the 50-year-old Jackson prepare for his marathon run of farewell concerts at London’s O2 Arena, This Is It certainly doesn’t offer any real insight on Jackson’s condition during those final days. He appears physically fit. But mentally? It’s hard to tell.
The rehearsal clips are as exhilarating as they are frustrating. They appear to have been shot on just three separate occasions — often out of focus, grainy and almost always filmed by a handheld camera by someone standing as far back as possible.
When we move in closer, Jackson looks like he’s distracted, lost in his own world. Subtitles appear every time he speaks, but they don’t always make it easier to understand what he’s saying.
Ortega, who also made the High School Musical and Hannah Montana movies, treats Jackson like one of his 15-year-old charges. In one scene, as Jackson rises up on a cherry picker, the choreographer yells loudly and slowly, “Michael, please hold on!”
Jackson doesn’t quite come off as a musical visionary as a nitpicker whose entire focus falls on how the songs end. He repeatedly instructs the musicians to, “let it simmer.” He complains about the in-ear monitors that have become a standard part of performing live. “It feels like a fist in your ear,” he says. And judging by the reactions of those around him, his presence at the rehearsals is a rarity.
There’s also no getting over his appearance — the ski-jump nose, exaggerated chin and trembling white fingers — blown up large on the screen. During the elaborate production for Thriller, which aims to modernize the original video with live dancers, there’s a grim chill that comes from watching the pale man in his Ed Hardy sweatpants and black bomber jacket, now deceased, dancing in front of a throng of zombies.
It’s when Jackson’s muscle memory kicks in during loose performances of I’ll Be There, Human Nature and Beat It (sometimes with the studio tracks playing on top) that everything comes together, giving this film most of its thrust. After putting his heart and soul into Billie Jean, Jackson shrugs, “At least we get a feel for it.”
There’s no doubt that if they actually happened, the concerts would have been spectacular.
But there’s no payoff at the end of This Is It. Not only do we not get to see opening night, but we don’t get to see what happened when that fateful phone call came on June 25, leaving many walking out of the theater asking, “Was that it?”
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