Of all the things we’ll never know about Michael Jackson’s life and work, the question of whether the makers of This Is It intended the film to be a cash grab or a genuine tribute is hardly the most interesting. Still, the mere existence of this making-of documentary/concert movie is a pretty good lens through which to view the latter half of Jackson’s career, a phase that called his handlers’ motives into question as much as his own judgment.
Director Kenny Ortega, Jackson’s long-time tour co-director/creative partner, tarts up This Is It’s grainy footage of the rehearsals for what would have been the fragile megastar’s final shows with gushing testimonials to his brilliance, not that we needed them. Even in ill-fitting blazers and sweat pants, as soon as Jackson starts moonwalking across the stage you know that not only was he reasonably healthy, he hadn’t lost the magic that hypnotized the entire world for over a decade. Forget the rumours and cancelled gigs; from his still-prodigious voice to his meticulous attention to the details of his music, Jackson was more than capable of silencing all the doubters. And to his and Ortega’s credit, This Is It proves just how incredible the show itself would have been, from the elaborate sets (digital flames! Robotic spiders!) to the astonishingly lithe backing dancers, who can still barely keep up with him.
He also looked like Skeletor on a crash diet. Had Jackson not died three weeks before the show was due to open, it would have taken a lot of theatrical trickery to hide his anorexically-gaunt physique or his ghostly pallor. (On the upside, for the flashy and impressive new video sequence filmed for “Thriller,” he wouldn’t have needed makeup.) Worse than that, though, is the fact that Jackson wasn’t singing in his full voice. “I’m trying to conserve my throat… please understand,” he pleaded, and we do — for a 50-year-old man to pull off the kind of demanding performances he planned to do, he couldn’t have afforded to wreck his voice by singing full-out in rehearsals.
Instead, you hear him dropping words, singing at a low volume and being both out of tune and out of time. Aside from the heartbreaking coda to “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You,” where he and backup singer Judith Hill trade gospel-infused vocalese so intense it’d make Stevie Wonder cry (and after which Jackson chastises the band for letting him get carried away while he’s trying to save his vocal cords), these performances are not a fair representation of his music.
Ortega might have made This Is It because he wanted the world to see that Jackson’s talent hadn’t disappeared, or so that all the hard work his cast and crew had done wasn’t totally wasted. He might also have made it (or been forced to make it) so that the show’s investors could recoup something to offset what must be enormous losses. But Ortega sure as hell didn’t make This Is It to honour what Jackson would have wanted, because there’s no way that such a perfectionist would have consented to letting the world see him looking so frail, and singing so poorly, especially when he clearly had the ability to do better. Those who love Michael Jackson will still want to see this to satisfy their curiosity about his final days, but for anyone who needs a reminder of what he could do, search YouTube for his Motown 25 performance, and get ready for the goosebumps that This Is It just can’t provide.