This Is It B

In Theatres. Rated PG. 112 Minutes.

Is This Is It an extraordinary concert film? No. A better question, culled as it is from rehearsal footage, is whether it’s a concert film at all. For my money, it’s not— more of a documentary, really, and a fairly ordinary one at that. But, while the film might not be extraordinary, Michael Jackson certainly was. This film pulls you in when it’s focusing on Michael’s creative process, guiding the directors, the dancers, and the singers through takes, explaining how to work the crowd into a frenzy, demanding the music and choreography be perfect.

The film is organized around the songs, with most starting in a largely empty warehouse and evolving through film production, the perfection of choreography, the addition of sets (which appear to change for every piece) and the finalization of lighting. The film serves first and foremost as a testament to what never will be. These 50 shows at the O2 in London would have been legend. That this would have been the ticket, not just for London, but for the concert world in 2009 is obvious. Michael’s voice still sounds surprisingly good, even though he’s operating at about 80% throughout. And his dancing. You can’t believe the man was 50. He moves and grooves like 25—thanks, in no small part I’m sure, to the cadre of drugs we now know where constantly coursing through his vains.

That brings us to the other obvious thing in watching this film—that there was no one standing up to Michael. Everyone treats him like the spoiled child of royalty. His passive aggressive behavior is baffling. At one point, after choosing to go into an extended vocal ending, he asks why the dancers and crew had forced him to do it—until they’re apologizing to him. Still, he’s not as wacko as past reports would lead you to believe, showing a surprising amount of respect and honor to the artists working around him.

As inspiring as the actual music numbers might be, the editing and production are by the numbers. It’s only fair to recognize that none of this video was shot with a documentary in mind, so there are probably limits to what could be done with the film that had been shot. Still, this film has no rhythm to it. No build. No climax. No resolution. Instead it offers a largely unvarnished and occasionally unflattering look at an artist so intent on hiding himself that he radically changed his facial features. That this glimpse is one we almost certainly would not have been given had he lived to put on the extravaganza he was planning is the greatness and the tragedy of the film. B