A new Michael Jackson biopic raises a familiar question… do audiences actually want the truth, or just a great show?
This week, my co-host Sarah Hanlon and I unpack the new film Michael and the growing trend of biopics that trade accuracy for spectacle. When a story as complex as Michael Jackson’s gets streamlined into a crowd-pleasing concert experience, what gets lost… and does it even matter?
They explore the art vs. artist debate, the power of nostalgia, and why some cultural icons remain untouchable—no matter how complicated their legacy becomes.
It’s a conversation about storytelling, memory, and the uncomfortable space where fact and entertainment collide.
Fast reviews for busy people! Watch as I review three movies in less time than it takes to make your bed. Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about the biopic “Michael,” the grounded fairy tale “The Bearded Girl” and the action thriller “Fuze.”
SYNOPSIS: Jaafar Jackson, son of Jackson 5 member Jermaine Jackson, and nephew to Michael Jackson, plays his King of Pop uncle in the flashy new biopic “Michael.”
CAST: Jaafar Jackson, Nia Long, Laura Harrier, Juliano Krue Valdi, Miles Teller, Colman Domingo. Directed by Antoine Fuqua.
REVIEW: Michael Jackson’s rise to fame and the accompanying tribulations are given a high gloss treatment in “Michael.” From the hardscrabble upbringing in Gary, Indiana and the Jackson 5 to a stratospheric solo career and the isolation of fame, it’s a Wikipedia page come to life and projected on the screen.
The front row seat to the life and (most of) the legacy of Michael Jackson (Juliano Krue Valdi as young Michael. Jaafar Jackson as adult Michael) begins with the well documented rise of the Jackson 5 and the physical and emotional abuse at the hand of Michael’s controlling father Joe (Colman Domingo). “Let me tell you something,” says Joe. “In this life, you’re either a winner or you’re a loser.”
The road to stardom begins when Motown founder Barry Gordy (Larenz Tate) signs the band and helps launch the Jackson 5 to national stardom.
From Joseph and Katherine Jackson’s (Nia Long) humble living room to MTV and the world’s biggest stages, Jackson grows up in public, personally and professionally, amid a swirl of triumphs and personal struggles.
Before you ask, yes, Bubbles makes an appearance in “Michael.” He’s a CGI version of the chimp once kept by Michael Jackson as a pet, but he feels about as real as anything else in this crowd-pleasingly tuneful but sanitized and safe biopic.
The story of triumph over adversity, of genius and creative vision, begins in a dark place. Joseph Jackson, father and manager of Michael Jackson and The Jacksons, played with malignant vigor by Colman Domingo, puts his five sons through their paces with the intensity of a Marine drill sergeant. These early, ugly scenes of abuse hit hard as young Michael is driven to perfection at the end of his father’s belt.
But what begins as a hard-hitting biography soon settles into a more familiar greatest hits style movie propped up by Jackson’s prodigious back catalogue of music. Director Antoine Fuqua, working from a clichéd script by John Logan, settles into authorized biography rhythm, highlighting Jackson’s many successes without ever going deep.
In the film’s final half hour, Fuqua decides to give up on the story completely. “Michael,” much to the delight of the audience I saw thew film with, shifts from biopic to concert film with several show-stopping performances from Jaafar Jackson.
Jackson, who spent two years training for the role, nails his paternal uncle’s physicality, especially in the elaborate musical numbers, like the dramatization of the making of the “Thriller” video, and concert scenes.
A replication of the electrifying debut of M.J.’s moonwalk on the “Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever” special is almost as exciting as it was when Michael did it in 1983. It’s a blast of loud and proud nostalgia that plays really well in IMAX, as do most of the musical performances.
What’s missing is insight. It’s all uplift as Michael, robbed of his childhood, finds his way through the world, shedding the influence of his father in favor of charting his own course to superstardom.
As with other authorized music biographies like “Elvis” or “Bohemian Rhapsody,” the story’s rough edges are mostly shaved away. The thorny issue of the 1993 sexual assault allegation was addressed in the film’s original cut but had to be scrapped due to a legal agreement with the accuser’s family. According to the Wall Street Journal, a sequel is already in the works for 2027 or 2028 that will address those allegations.
Jackson was a complicated figure, but the movie isn’t interested in exploring those complications in a meaningful way.
We see close-ups of his favorite book, a children’s picture book of “Peter Pan.” We learn of his admiration for Charlie Chaplin but virtually nothing about his relationship with his brothers, who are treated like extras in the story, the evolution of his signature fashion style or the inspiration for his songs, save for “Thriller,” which seems to have been initiated by Vincent Price’s “House of Wax.” Janet Jackson fans may also be left wondering why there is no mention of her.
“Michael” is beyond lightweight. It’s a “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” style music bio, except for when it is in motion; singing and dancing. As a biography, it’s a pretty good concert film. The musical numbers are terrific, nicely performed by Jaafar Jackson, whose mimicry of his uncle’s signature moves is spot on. These sequences are head-turners and should please fans looking for a blast of in-your-face nostalgia.
Michael Jackson is one of the biggest selling performers of all time, and one of the most documented, so perhaps there aren’t any revelations to be had seventeen years after his death. But it is a shame that the adventurous spirit that characterized the superstar’s best work is missing from the film.
For an avenging angel, a righter-of-wrongs, it seems the work is never done. Take the world-weary Robert McCall, (Denzel Washington) former government assassin turned protector of the exploited and oppressed in “Equalizer 3,” for instance. After taking a bullet on the job, he takes time out to recuperate in a Southern Italian village. As he ponders his own salvation over a cup of tea in a local cafe, he tells people he’s retired from “government work,” and settles in to enjoy a quiet life in his new home.
Trouble is, violence seems to follow this guy around like a trained puppy.
The trouble comes in the form of Vincent (Andrea Scarduzio), a mafia kingpin looking to take over the town and establish a base for his operations.
“What happens here,” says McCall’s new friend Enzo (Remo Girone), “happens in many towns. The mafia. They’re a cancer. No cure.”
Not one to accept threats and extortion as a way of life, McCall sends a warning.
“Whatever it is you and your friends do,” he says, “do it somewhere else.”
“You warning me?” says Vincent’s brother, mafia tough guy Marco Quaranta (Andrea Dodero).
“I’m preparing you.”
Meanwhile CIA agent Emma Collins (Dakota Fanning) is hot on McCall’s trail, trying to figure out the question at the heart of the movie: Is Robert McCall a good guy or a bad guy?
“The Equalizer 3” is a revenge story, plain and simple, tarted up with some talk of salvation, but let’s face it, this is “Death Wish” with nicer scenery. McCall slices and dices his way through the mafia crime family, a vigilante on a mission.
When director Antoine Fuqua, working with a script by Richard Wenk, isn’t staging homages to “Spartacus” and “Godfather 3,” he’s setting the stage with stock characters. The Italian villagers are good, honest salt-of-the-earth types. The baddies aren’t memorable, just extra evil, with no redeeming features. You don’t need white hats and black hats to tell who is who in this movie.
Into this mix comes McCall, an unwieldy mix of ruthlessness and benevolence. He’s there to give the bad guys what they’ve got coming, and it is the promise of his handiwork—decapitations, impalement, broken bones etc—that gives the movie its forward momentum.
But it’s Washington who delivers the satisfaction in the film’s scenes of gory revenge. There’s lots of revenge movies out there, but they usually don’t have the special set of skills that Washington brings to the brutal character. From his soft-spoken threats and wisecracks to his carefully timed fights and search for solace, Washington and his trademarked movie star magnetism make the character far more complex than he actually is. McCall is essentially a serial killer, a violent fantasy of justice at any cost, but Washington’s charisma makes it feel cathartic rather than exploitive.
At a sleek 1 hour and 43 minutes, “The Equalizer 3” is an entertainingly efficient finale to the franchise that goes out with a bang. Literally.
The influence of one of the most infamous photos from the American Civil War is still felt today, 159 years later. The picture, taken by the Union Army, of Gordon, a formerly enslaved man known as “Whipped Peter,” display his scourged bare back, the result of brutal whippings.
The indelible image, commonly called The Scourged Back, provided incontrovertible proof of the cruelty of American slavery and helped fuel the abolitionist movement. Now, courtesy of director Antoine Fuqua and his film “Emancipation,” now streaming on Apple TV+, the story behind the photograph is being told. “We are going to make sure that every person in the world truly knows what slavery looks like,” said the photographer who took the picture.
Will Smith, in his first role since the slap heard ‘round the world, is Peter, a deeply religious Haitian slave torn from his wife Dodienne (Charmaine Bingwa) and children to be sold to a Confederate labor camp. Unable to remain silent when the camp’s overseers, like the sadistic Fassel (Ben Foster), abuse the enslaved men working to his left and right, he is labelled defiant and regularly beaten or threatened with a loaded gun to his head.
“They break the bones in my body more times than I can count,” he says later, “but they never break me.”
When Peter learns of the Emancipation Proclamation, signaling that President Lincoln has freed the slaves, he plans an escape, fleeing with a group of men through some of Louisiana’s most treacherous swamps. Driven toward freedom, and the possibility of being reunited with his family, Peter battles nature, and beasts, both the four-legged and two-legged kind, to survive.
Shot in daguerreotype black and white, resembling a high contrast tin type photograph, “Emancipation” looks like a historical document of a sort, but comes with a modern storytelling sensibility. It is both a brutal representation of the evils of slavery and a Will Smith action movie.
As Peter makes his way through the bayou, rubbing onion on his clothes to put the bloodhounds off his scent, battling an alligator or defending himself with a cross-shaped necklace, his journey is rife with danger. The tense action scenes, which make up the bulk of the movie, are well realized by director Fuqua, but they come at the expense of the character.
We come to understand that Peter is a smart, courageous and resourceful man whose deeply held religious beliefs have given him a roadmap for life, but the film appears more interested in the way he sidesteps danger rather than creating a fully-formed portrait of the man himself.
Smith is raw in his performance and Peter’s inspirational journey to family and freedom is a visceral one, but, as presented, not a deep one.
For better and for worse we know what to expect from a Will Smith hero’s journey film and “Emancipation,” for better and for worse, is just that. It folds a death-defying action movie around a vivid portrait of the scourge of slavery and it’s an uneasy balance. On one side, the film is propped up by Fuqua’s deft, propulsive handling of the action. On the other, it feels like a missed opportunity to dig deep into what made Peter tick.
Your enjoyment of “Bullet Train,” a new action adventure now playing in theatres, will depend directly on your enjoyment of star Brad Pitt. He’s having fun punching, shooting and generally behaving badly throughout, but it’s possible he’s having more fun than the audience.
Based on the Japanese novel “Maria Beetle,” “Bullet Train” stars Pitt as assassin “Ladybug.” Plagued by mishaps—“My bad luck is biblical,” he complains.—he wants out of the criminal life. “You put peace into the world and you get peace back,” he says.
When his handler, Maria Beetle (Sandra Bullock), needs a replacement for a quick job aboard a bullet train heading from Tokyo to Kyoto, she reaches out. He gives her the “peace” line. Her response? “I think you’re forgetting what you do for a living.”
She ropes him in with the promise of an easy gig. Grab a silver briefcase full of cash and get off at the next stop. “What’s the catch?” “There is no catch,” Beetle says.
Of course, there is a catch. In this kind of movie there is always a catch.
In this case the world’s fastest train is packed with some of the world’s most highly trained killers, and every one of them has some kind of tie to a psychotic crime syndicate boss known as the White Death. “He doesn’t need a reason to kill people like you,” says a passenger. “He needs a reason not to.”
Among them are Cockney killers Tangerine (Brian Tyree Henry) and Lemon (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), The Prince (Joey King), a British assassin posing as a schoolgirl and The Wolf (Benito A Martínez Ocasio), a Mexican murderer with a vendetta against Ladybug.
Cue the darkly comedic action.
For all its high-speed antics, “Bullet Train” feels been-there-done-that. It’s as if Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie met in a head-on collision. Director David Leitch and screenwriter Zak Olkewicz borrow elements from both filmmakers, but despite the flash and sass, the quick edits and even quicker quips, their film lacks the gusto of its inspirations. It’s a familiar tale told with flashbacks, revenge motifs, pop culture references—one of the assassins endlessly quotes “Thomas the Tank Engine”—pop songs layered over violent fight scenes and Ninja swords.
It is, I suppose, a great example of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, except other than the reductive script, Leitch doesn’t actually reduce anything. Reuse and recycle, for sure, but the film’s commitment to ultraviolence, sprawling cast and excessive 126-minute running time don’t suggest a reduction of any kind.
Pitt appears to be having fun, but the character’s New Age journey—he’s a nonstop font of “let this be a lesson in the toxicity of anger” style platitudes—grows wearisome and it’s hard to shake the feeling that the actor is revisiting his Cliff Booth character in the “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’s” LSD fight scene. It is a hoot to see him cold-cock a giant Anime character, but his befuddled killer act gets old quickly.
“Bullet Train” is a derailment. It’s a movie with the odd highlight—Lemon and Tangerine’s banter is a hoot—but despite its desperate need to entertain, it ultimately goes off the rails.
There is no mention of COVID-19 in “The Guilty,” the new Jake Gyllenhaal thriller now streaming on Netflix. But make no mistake, this is a pandemic movie, A remake of 2018 Danish film “Den skyldige,” it is essentially a one hander, shot on a just a handful of set with strict safety protocols in place. Gyllenhaal may be socially distanced from his castmates, but his performance is anything but distant.
Gyllenhaal plays Joe Baylor, an LAPD cop on 911 duty while he awaits a trial for police brutality. As wildfire ravage the city, he’s tied to a phone at the call center, where he makes his displeasure at his new assignment clear to anyone who calls in. Short tempered, he snaps at his co-workers and even berates his callers for their bad choices—“You did drugs!”—before offering assistance.
His attitude changes when he gets a call from Emily (Riley Keough, who does impressive voice work), a mother of two kidnapped by her abusive ex-husband (Peter Sarsgaard). Their conversation sets off a chain of events that causes Baylor to look inward and reassess the choices that led him to the 911 dispatch center.
Played out in real time, “The Guilty” builds tension as Baylor races against a ticking clock to bring the situation to a safe resolution for Emily. Director Antoine Fuqua amps up the sense of urgency, keeping his camera focused on Gyllenhaal’s feverish performance. The close-ups create a sense of claustrophobia, visually telegraphing Baylor’s feeling of helplessness and his crumbling mental state.
Gyllenhaal hands in a gripping performance that bristles with determination, ranging from brooding, to explosive to resigned. His expressive face fills the screen, and with the exception of some distracting eyebrow acting, carefully guides us down the rabbit hole of Baylor’s anxiety.
“The Guilty” is a no-frills thriller that allows the viewer to imagine most of the action, both in Emily’s plight and Baylor’s head. It breathes the same air as movies like the minimalist “Locke” that do a lot with a little.
Reminders of real life were all around us at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. From the digital screenings we watched at home to half empty, socially distanced screenings at venues like The Princess of Wales Theatre. But when my mind wanders back to September 2021, I won’t be thinking of having to show my proof of vaccination or the social distancing in theatres.
What will linger?
The images of Anya Taylor-Joy in “Last Night in Soho,” crooning an a cappella version of the Swingin’ Sixties anthem “Downtown,” and “Dune’s” Stellan Skarsgård doing his best impression of Marlon Brando in “Apocalypse Now,” come to mind immediately.
Those moments and others like them are the reason the movies exist. They transcend the vagaries of real life, transporting us away from a place where masks, vaccine passports are the reality.
And boy, did we need that this year.
Here a look back at some of the moments that made memories at this year’s TIFF:
“Night Raiders,” a drama from Cree-Métis filmmaker Danis Goulet, draws on the historical horrors of the Sixties Scoop and Residential Schools to create an unforgettable, dystopian scenario set in the new future. It effectively paints a somber portrait of totalitarian future, packed with foreboding and danger. The story is fictional but resonates with echoes of the ugly truths of colonization and forced assimilation. Goulet allows the viewer to make the comparisons between the real-life atrocities and the fictional elements of the story. There are no pages of exposition, just evocative images. Show me don’t tell me. The basis in truth of the underlying themes brings the story a weight often missing in the dystopian genre.
I asked Danis Goulet about having many of her characters in Night Raiders speak Cree: “It is everything to me,” she said. “My dad is a Cree language speaker. He grew up speaking Cree. He learned to speak English in school. His parents were Cree speakers. And coming down to my generation, I’m no longer a Cree speaker and there are entire universes, philosophies and poetry and beauty contained in the language. When we think of where our heritage lies, maybe some people think of museums. For me I think it is in the language. I think that richness doesn’t just offer Indigenous people something. I think if others looked closer at what the language tells us about the history of this land, they would be incredibly amazed. My dad has looked at references in the language that talk about the movement of the glaciers, so, foe me to have the Cree language on screen is everything. I’m in my own process. I go to Cree language camp to try and learn back the language and the language gives back in a way that is so healing and incredible. It is one of the greatest gifts in my life. So, the opportunity to put my dad’s first language on the screen, and the language of the Northern Communities where I come from, and my language that I lost, is the best. It’s incredible.”
From Twitter: @RichardCrouse Was just sent this: “Wanted to check and see if you’d be able to either send proof of vaccine OR a negative covid test prior to your interviews with the talent.” I sent my proof in, but added, “Will the talent be providing me with proof of vaccination?” #TIFF21 #fairquestion 4:48 PM · Sep 9, 2021· 8 Retweets 3 Quote Tweets 206 Likes
There is no mention of COVID-19 in the Jake Gyllenhaal thriller “The Guilty.” But make no mistake, this is a pandemic movie, A remake of 2018 Danish film “Den skyldige,” it is essentially a one hander, shot on a just a handful of set with strict safety protocols in place. Gyllenhaal, as 911 operator Joe Baylor, may be socially distanced from his castmates, but his performance is anything but distant. Played out in real time, “The Guilty” builds tension as Baylor races against a ticking clock to bring the situation to a safe resolution for Emily. Director Antoine Fuqua amps up the sense of urgency, keeping his camera focused on Gyllenhaal’s feverish performance. The close-ups create a sense of claustrophobia, visually telegraphing Baylor’s feeling of helplessness and his crumbling mental state.
The sound of an audience laughing, applauding, crying, or whatever. Just being an audience. The big venues were socially distanced, and often looked empty to the eye, but when the lights went down and folks reacted to the opening speeches or the films, it didn’t matter. Roy Thomson Hall, with its 2600-person capacity, may have only had 1000 or so people in the seats, but for ninety minutes or two hours they formed a community, kindred souls brought together after a long break, and it was uplifting to hear their reactions.
“Flee” is a rarity, an animated documentary. A mix of personal and modern world history, it is a heartfelt look at the true, hidden story of the harrowing life journey of a gay refugee from Afghanistan. Except for a few minutes here and there of archival news footage, “Flee” uses animation to tell the story but this ain’t the “Looney Tunes.” Rasmussen used the animation to protect Amin’s identity, but like other serious-minded animated films like “Persepolis” and “Waltz with Bashir,” the impressionistic presentation enhances the telling of the tale. The styles of Rasmussen’s animation change to reflect and effectively bring the various stages of Amin’s journey to vivid life. It is suspenseful, heartbreaking and often poetic.
I asked “The Survivor” star Vicky Krieps about working opposite Ben Foster: “The first day I came [on set] I was very intimidated,” she said. “I wouldn’t say scared, but it felt like a wall to me. It began like this. There was no small talk. There was no, ‘How are you?’ He was already in character and it was very clear. I thought, ‘OK, I have to play his wife.’ And then, something really interesting happened. I like having a challenge and this felt like a challenge. So, I needed to find a way [to relate to him] because I knew I was going to be his wife. How do I do that? Imagine it as a wall, but then in the wall there are eyes. I used those eyes and I felt like I could open a window, and inside of those eyes was a horizon where I could go. I liked to say to Ben, ‘And then we would dance.’ Sometimes I wrote to him and said, ‘It was nice dancing today.’”
“Last Night in Soho,” from director Edgar Wright, is a love letter to London’s Swingin’ Sixties by way of Italian Giallo. Surreal and vibrant, and more than a little bit silly, its enjoyable for those with a taste for both Petula Clarke and murder. It begins with verve, painting a picture of a time and place that is irresistible. A mosaic of music, fashion and evocative set decoration, the first hour brings inventive world building and stunning imagery. Wright pulls out all the stops, making visual connections between his film and the movies of the era he’s portraying and even including sixties British icons Rigg, Tushingham and Stamp in the cast.
I asked “Dune” star Rebecca Ferguson why she said reading Frank Herbert’s novel was like doing a crossword puzzle: “Sometimes I wonder what comes out of my mouth,” she said. “My mother and many of my friends sit and do crosswords, but I have never been in that world. There is a way of thinking around it. It’s logical, mathematical. You need to be able to see rhythms. Whatever it is. Reading “Dune” was quite dense and I think for people who are immersed into the world of science fiction, they understand worlds and Catharism and this planet and that planet. It is just another picture, which, not to stupefy myself, I am intelligent enough to understand it, but there is a rhythm. I think it is me highlighting the fact that people who live and breathe science fiction, they get it at another level.”
“Dune,” the latest cinematic take on the Frank Herbert 1965 classic, now playing in theatres, is part one of the planned two-part series. “Dune” is big and beautiful, with plentiful action and a really charismatic performance from Jason Momoa as swordmaster Duncan Idaho. It is unquestionably well made, with thought provoking themes of exploitation of Indigenous peoples, environmentalism and colonialism.
Like a perfectly cooked egg, or popping the individual pockets of air on bubble wrap or the “pawooof” sound a properly opened bottle of champagne makes, watching Denzel Washington open up a can of whoop ass on bad people is extraordinarily satisfying. His latest film, “The Equalizer 2,” the first sequel in his long and stories career, offers up a cornucopia of fisticuffian delights that should keeps fans of tough guy Denzel happy.
Denzel returns as former secret agent and righter-of-wrongs Robert McCall. Although he’s looking to scale back his ongoing quest to protect and serve the exploited and oppressed, when his former boss and close friend Susan Plummer (Melissa Leo) is murdered, he goes looking for revenge. “You killed my friend,” he says to the baddies, “so I’m going to kill each and every one of you. My only disappointment is that I only get to do it once.” Cue the carnage, Denzel-style.
There’s more, like a subplot with a young artist McCall tries to steer away from gang life and some double crosses, but you don’t go to an “Equalizer” movie for the social messaging or the plot. You go to see Denzel reign holy hell down on people that deserve a punch or two. That’s why the first, largely plot free, half of the movie is more satisfying than the second. We see McCall in random situations doing what he does best, not getting bogged down by the vagaries of narrative style or thematic statements. The fight scenes are don’t vary much, he scopes out the room, mutters a killer one-liner and devastates those who get in his way. It’s in the second half, after Susan’s murder that it sags as the movie strays into procedural territory. McCall’s investigative work leads to another improbable “Equalizer” style climax, although this one, set in a beach town during a hurricane, isn’t quite as ridiculous as the Home Hardware shootout—who knew those places were so dangerous?—in the first film, but it still requires some suspension of disbelief. (Start by asking yourself, when did he have time to hang up all those pictures of Susan in a wild windstorm?)
Director Antoine Fuqua has snapped up the pace from the first film, showcased the action, and added in two great motivators, betrayal and grief. Washington brings gravitas and ferocity to a character stuck somewhere between atoning for his violent life by helping those around him and knocking the snot out of people who get on his bad side. This sequel muddies the character by presenting him as a one-man posse, meting out his own brand of over-the-top justice. You can root for him, just don’t get on his bad side.
Not as trashy as “Death Wish” or as action-packed as “John Wick,” two other exemplars of the man on a crusade genre, “The Equalizer 2” is a solidly entertaining popcorn flick with pretensions of bringing Shakespearean level of pathos to the tale of vengeance. Instead, it’s “Taken” with the special set of skills and without the annoying daughter character.
