Mind you, prior to last Wednesday, I was perfectly happy thinking that Michael Jackson deserved no sympathy.
Mind you, prior to last Wednesday, I was perfectly happy thinking that Michael Jackson deserved no sympathy. After all he had, in his own words to Brit scribe Martin Bashir, said that he was like "Peter Pan" to the children who visited the Neverland ranch, who he was also seen discussing "sleeping arrangements" with. Jackson was exonerated of all future charges of child sexual abuse but there's no denying that for me, the King of Pop had fallen from grace and landed awkwardly on his prosthetic nose.
I dragged myself last Wednesday for the late night show of This Is It viewed by several critics as the last gasp attempt of greedy moochers to squeeze out every last drop from the deceased superstar's cash cow legacy. My expectations were low. I ate heavily, expecting to fall asleep during the docudrama and ensuring that it didn't happen on an empty stomach. I also filled up on lots of cola, assuming that I wouldn't be missing anything if I snuck out for a loo break whilst the movie was still on.
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Five minutes into the movie, and Bashir was still riding the wave of approval. There were teary-eyed principal dancers talking about how they loved Wacko Jacko and some other emotional drivel. Widely publicised footage of the announcement of the London concert followed. And then, the dancing began.
There were reports of a body double used in the footage, but I can't bring myself to believe it. There are moments in the movie where Jackson is unbelievably sprightly for a man who died of a cardiac arrest caused by his deteriorating health. At others though, you see MJ cracking around the corners, hardly painting a pretty picture but one that evokes something that seemed surprising as sympathy.
The movie's theatrical release has been extended for another fortnight, though it is unsure whether we will benefit from the same. If they don't, Thursday is the last day to catch this energy extravaganza and I the Cynic, for one, recommend it to anyone who ever grabbed their crotch in a school dance event or said "Aoooo" u00e0 la Jackson.
And as for Bashir? A minor footnote to the madness, the magic and the memories that were Michael.
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