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Audiences turned out in record-breaking numbers ($217 million globally and counting) for the opening weekend of Michael. The King of Pop’s fans gave the Antoine Fuqua-directed biopic a 97% score on Rotten Tomatoes’ Popcornmeter and an “A-” in exit polls on Cinemascore. As things now stand, Michael could become for the music biopic genre what Black Panther was to superhero movies, a theatrical celebration that becomes a cultural force-turned-box office juggernaut.
But the huge gap between critics’ overwhelmingly negative reviews (currently 38% on RT) and the rapturous audience scores for Michael, says as much about the near-religious fervor which the most zealous segments of fandom have for their music icons as it does the notion that critics are wildly out of touch with audiences’ tastes.
Michael — and 2022’s Elvis, for that matter — gives legions of the late singer’s most die-hard fans what they wanted. To paraphrase the classic Western The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, the filmmakers behind both Michael and Elvis printed the legend. And those two respective fandoms rewarded these hero-worship biopics with millions of their filmgoing dollars and ecstatic fan scores (Elvis is at a 94% audience score to critics’ 77% on RT).
Michael and Elvis are the two music biopic examples I cite because, in each case, their fandoms are super-protective of and feverishly devoted to their idols in ways other music fans aren’t. There wasn’t an overwhelming backlash against A Complete Unknown for depicting Bob Dylan as an enigmatic dick because, by most accounts, he is. But Dylan also didn’t craft an image of himself as being something other than that. Jackson and Presley, however, became rags-to-riches, American Dream legends to be cherished and heralded, their shortcomings denied or minimized in order for their billion-dollar IP brands to survive their premature deaths.
Both Jackson and Presley have a lot of skeezy personal baggage that many of their super-fans twist themselves into knots either denying or forgiving because both men were widely beloved for their kindness and generosity to both their fans and complete strangers. Die-hard fans feel like they actually know them so they want to protect them and their legacies. Simply put, they love them and humans are wired to remain loyal to and protective of those they love.
This ride-or-die fan devotion to music icons like Jackson and Presley demands that their biopics — if they are to succeed at the box office — minimize their dark sides to the point where they are depicted as victims no matter the extent of their personal demons. And if they are victims then their stories require villains that serve to either take the heat off them or to be the one to blame for the hero’s failings.
In Michael’s case, it’s his physically and emotionally abusive dad, Joseph. His father beats him and controls his life and career to the letter, leading to Michael’s lifelong palpable fear of even being in his dad’s presence. The scenes featuring Colman Domingo’s overpowering Joseph — seen either beating Michael as a child or intimidating him as a young man — are among the most visceral and emotional in a movie that’s otherwise devoid of conflict or obstacles that Michael can’t easily overcome through sheer force of personality. The movie’s Michael is simply a sweet man-child who wants to rescue animals and recapture his lost childhood by hanging out with kids. He has no discernible character flaws; I can’t even recall if he swears in the film.
While Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis does depict Presley’s drug use, womanising, and volatile temper, it ultimately lays almost all the blame for the singer’s tragic decline in the 1970s at the feet of his manipulative manager, “Colonel” Tom Parker, absolving Presley of any true personal and professional responsibility to take control of his life and career. Elvis as tragedy is a saga that many of his fans have long accepted because it takes the onus off his own very human failings that kept him from returning to his former glory.
It’s easier for some fans to simply accept a biopic’s case for blaming all their idols’ woes on some prosthetics-laden ogre (whether it’s Domingo’s brow piece-wearing Joseph or Tom Hanks’ heavily made-up Colonel, complete with his odd Bond villain accent). Beloved music icons are meant to be gods who can physically perform and achieve historic feats that we mere mortals can’t. They are aspirational figures, beacons of light and hope for fans. Someone else is the true villain in their story; anything more complicated than that screws with the mythology we require to keep them alive in our hearts and minds.
Filmmakers can humanise them, but they must never show them in any truly irredeemable light. For such super-fans, seeing their idols done reel justice means not only requiring an actor to physically resemble them but also to replicate their stage performances with uncanny, dance-step-by-step accuracy. In the end, biopics like Michael and Elvis become cinematic acts of resurrection. Story failings can be overlooked as long as the greatest hits are played on stage with slavish attention to detail, so we can all rock with them one more time.
Jukebox biopics such as Michael and Elvis exist then not as referendums on complicated artists but as rituals for the most intense segments of fandom to commune with the dead. The film’s lead actor – whether it’s Jafaar Jackson as his uncle Michael or Austin Butler as Presley – serves as the host-shaman who can miraculously summon the beloved icon back from the afterlife for one last command performance, with cinemas standing in as the churches where these quasi-religious experiences play out to the tune of hundreds of millions in ticket sales.
For more coverage, read our (scathing) Michael review and find out how to pre-order the Michael 4K Blu-ray.
