For decades, Michael Jackson’s life has played out before the public eye, with every triumph and controversy scrutinized in real time. Now, the new biopic Michael, released on April 24, 2026, offers a big-screen retelling of the King of Pop’s early years, focusing on his rise to superstardom while steering clear of the darker chapters that shadowed his legacy. Directed by Antoine Fuqua and produced by Graham King, Branco, and John McClain, the film delivers a glossy, crowd-pleasing portrait that’s as much a celebration as it is a carefully curated narrative.
At the heart of Michael is Jaafar Jackson, the 29-year-old nephew of the pop icon. Despite having no previous acting, dancing, or musical experience, Jaafar steps into his uncle’s legendary shoes with uncanny precision. According to Deadline, Jaafar doesn’t sing the songs himself—every note of “Billie Jean,” “Beat It,” “Thriller,” and “Ben” is vintage Michael, remastered and lip-synched with meticulous care. Yet, it’s Jaafar’s physicality, dance moves, and dramatic presence that breathe new life into the role. As Variety notes, “he nails the look, the voice, the electrostatic moves—and, more than that, the mixture of delicacy and steel that made Michael who he was.”
The film opens in 1966, in the modest living room of the Jackson family’s Gary, Indiana home. Here, Joe Jackson (played with gravitas by Colman Domingo) is more drill sergeant than doting father, driving his five sons through grueling rehearsals. The movie doesn’t shy away from depicting the physical abuse Michael endured—“Joe is hardest on Michael, who he beats with his belt,” Variety recounts. Young Michael, portrayed by Juliano Valdi, is shown as a sensitive soul, set apart from other children, who finds solace in music and performance. This early trauma, the film suggests, was both a crucible and a curse, forging Michael’s identity as an artist even as it haunted his personal life.
As the Jackson 5’s star rises, the film hits the familiar beats: hit records, tours, and a pivotal appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show. Joe’s relentless ambition is matched only by Michael’s own drive for greatness. The screenplay by John Logan, described by Deadline as “serviceable,” opts for a linear, almost Wikipedia-like retelling, ticking off major milestones without delving too deeply into the psyche behind the superstar. Yet, it’s in the details—Michael’s fascination with Charlie Chaplin and Gene Kelly, his love for animals, and his childlike yearning for Neverland—that the film finds its most human moments.
One of the standout sequences, both critics agree, is Michael’s break from his father’s control. With the help of music lawyer John Branca (Miles Teller), Michael delivers his father’s termination via fax—a scene both “hilarious” and “emotionally charged,” according to Deadline. This act of defiance sets the stage for Michael’s solo ascent, leading to his collaboration with producer Quincy Jones (Kendrick Sampson) and the creation of the genre-defining album Off the Wall.
The biopic doesn’t skimp on spectacle. Choreographed by Rich and Tone Talauega, the dance numbers are meticulously crafted, replicating every iconic step. Jaafar’s performance in these sequences is a highlight, with Deadline lauding him for slipping into the role with “genuine authority and style.” The recreation of the “Thriller” video and the Motown 25th anniversary performance of “Billie Jean” are staged with infectious energy, drawing audiences into the magic of Michael’s heyday.
Yet, for all its razzle-dazzle, Michael is notable for what it leaves out. The film avoids any mention of the child sexual abuse allegations that have dogged Jackson’s legacy since 1993. According to both Deadline and Variety, scenes involving one of Jackson’s accusers were filmed but later cut, with multimillion-dollar reshoots ensuring the final product remained a “feel-good, almost inspiring origin tale.” As Variety observes, this omission leaves “a hint of a void at its center,” making the film less an exploration of a complicated figure and more a fan’s delight.
The movie does, however, touch on some of the more challenging aspects of Michael’s life. It portrays his cosmetic surgeries—though it attributes all his skin lightening to vitiligo—and his eccentricities, such as filling his Encino home with exotic animals like Bubbles the chimpanzee and a giraffe. The infamous Pepsi commercial accident, where a pyrotechnic mishap set Michael’s hair on fire, is depicted as a traumatic outgrowth of his father’s controlling influence. The film also dramatizes Michael’s push to have his music videos aired on MTV, featuring a boisterous cameo by Mike Myers as CBS Records president Walter Yetnikoff. This moment, as Deadline recounts, is a “priceless showdown” that captures the racial barriers Michael helped break in the music industry.
As the narrative moves through the 1980s, the film covers the Victory tour and Michael’s final, permanent break from his father. The closing act is a medley of concert performances, culminating in the 1988 London show and a sizzling rendition of “Bad.” The film ends not with a sense of closure, but with the words, “His Story Continues”—a James Bond-like promise that hints at a potential sequel. Whether future installments will tackle the more controversial chapters of Jackson’s life remains to be seen.
Behind the scenes, the Jackson family’s influence looms large. Many serve as executive producers, though Janet Jackson is notably absent. John Branca, the estate’s lawyer, is credited with transforming Jackson’s posthumous brand into a lucrative enterprise, from Cirque du Soleil shows in Las Vegas to a Tony-winning Broadway musical. Producer Graham King, whose previous biopic Bohemian Rhapsody was a global hit, brings the same crowd-pleasing sensibility to Michael, aiming squarely at fans eager to relive the magic.
With a running time of two hours and seven minutes and a PG-13 rating, Michael is designed for mass appeal. It’s a film that, as Variety puts it, “conducts the electricity of Michael Jackson,” offering a high-voltage tribute that’s sure to leave audiences dancing. But for those seeking deeper insight into the man behind the myth, the real story—warts and all—remains just out of reach. Perhaps, as the closing promise suggests, that story is yet to come.
For now, Michael stands as a vibrant, if sanitized, celebration of a singular artist whose impact on music and culture remains undiminished. It’s a film that invites audiences to remember, to sing along, and—if only for a couple of hours—to believe that the King of Pop is, in some way, still with us.