I’ve always loved a biopic. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to both watching them and reading them. There’s something about the authenticity that pulls me in. When people write memoirs, I’m usually the first to reserve them at the library. In a world where so much can be filtered or manipulated, there’s something special about someone simply telling their story.
Like many millennials, I was beyond excited when I first heard about a Michael Jackson movie. But I also knew—this had to be done right.
When the release date was announced and tickets went on sale, I immediately told my family we were making it an event—a real event, like when we all went to see Black Panther. Tickets? Purchased. Trailer? Watched a million times. I even put my kids through a mini “Michael Jackson bootcamp”—learning the moves, asking questions, getting a feel for the legend.
Growing up, we had family in Northeast Indiana, so we visited the Jackson home in Gary, Indiana, several times. I was familiar with the story of his rise to superstardom, and we were always reminded of his humble beginnings. Michael himself always felt mysterious—yet somehow still connected. The kind of presence that would literally make people faint when he stepped on stage.
There were moments when you couldn’t help but feel for him. It had to be exhausting to live that way—unable to move freely, constantly watched. For many of us, he was our first glimpse of what we’d later understand as arrested development. He was an adult, but it was clear he had missed parts of childhood most of us take for granted.
Of course, Michael Jackson’s life was complicated. We all remember the headlines, the rumors, the constant media scrutiny. But even with all of that, his story remained compelling. And that’s what made this film feel so important—the opportunity to explore the person behind the headlines.
We’re living in unprecedented times, where it often feels like we have to choose between covering our eyes or our ears just to get through the day. I was craving a distraction—something joyful, something immersive. And I was determined to enjoy this movie.
It didn’t just meet my expectations—it exceeded them.
I can’t even imagine how difficult it is to create a film about someone like Michael Jackson and truly get it right, but somehow, they did. And honestly, the world needed this movie—not for the controversy or the speculation, but for the escape.
For two and a half hours, there were no conversations about war, no stress about gas prices—just music, memories, storytelling, and movement. Just joy.
My children loved it too. They were finally able to connect the stories to the music and understand the magnitude of his artistry in a way that only a film can bring to life. And for me, that was the best part—sharing that experience with them, watching them see what made him so special.
The movie didn’t try to give us all the answers. Instead, it reminded us of the impact. The sound. The influence. The magic.
And maybe that’s enough.
