Review of ‘MJ – The Musical’: “Blood on the dance floor”

The King of Pop relives on the London stage through his latest musical theatre biopic, currently celebrating its first anniversary in the West End. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to say, say, say if its newly arrived lead still manages to rock his world.

June, 1992. An empty warehouse somewhere in Munich. Grey, empty, and dull. It doesn’t seem like the kind of show we’d expect for a musical biography of the man whose jewel-studded glove became the most standardized symbol of his identity. A door opens in the back – flocks of people come in: dancers, producers, PAs, even journalists; everyone seems to be there. It’s not just one more day in the rehearsal room. The clock is ticking, as a major event is about to happen – probably, the biggest one in their careers up until now. It’s a monumental task they’re still not ready for – at least, not to the eyes of who forever be the greatest legend of his kind.

The King of Pop has been brought back to life once again. It’s not he first time the London scene welcomes our favourite Simpson character (thanks very much for taking that away from us, Disney+). Regardless, it seems like it’s never enough when it comes to the artist who popularized the zombie walk and singing love songs to rats (though I understand that concept better since my boyfriend became my ex).

Honestly, though, the prospects of a pop hit-based musical are usually appetizing in the box office – regardless of what the critic community has to say about it (I feel appreciated…). But it’s easy to go lazy when you take too much confidence in the commercial viability of what you have in your hands – to the point of wiping out completely, along with its artistic value, if not enough care is put regarding narrative and, of course, spectacularity.

MJ is a piece of antagonizing features in that aspect, but not to the extreme one may anticipate. It’s still a bombastic extravaganza where sound and visuals come before storytelling, which is probably the main driver for its audiences, but it doesn’t neglect the needs of its recount either. There is, in fact, poignancy and grip. Is it the most elaborate concoction in that regard? Definitely not, but it’s not its intention either.

Under the leadership of Christopher Wheeldon, the production flaunts everything you could hope for in a sumptuous A-list Broadway package – for better and for worse. It’s an outstanding example of absolute precision and craftsmanship – to the point that there’s not a single flaw in either the singing or dance deliveries; all of them, executed with a level of impeccability that comes as nearly unbelievable.  It’s beautifully put together through the most eye-catching moments, where its high-budget staging does not renounce to moments of pure, imaginative theatricality.  But it also oozes the overly worked vibe of a Great White Way flagship, where the actors are limited to the incarcerating guidelines of a performance that can’t breathe even one inch away from the direction it’s been given.

As a result, we are wowed by the astounding technicality the whole experience puts on display, but we can’t be enthralled by that blurred emotional layer that constantly remains in the background – struggling to come forward through a plot line that pours pathos and introspection through every pore, but can’t, however, bring them close and into the viewer. We can be taken by the overall appeal of the character’s history over the boards, but not that much by the attempts of bringing the man behind the icon – as, despite its depiction of a childhood consumed by abuse, and an unfulfilled longing haunting the rest of his existence, we never get to see the person, but the mythos of a suffering artist.

Despite these not-so-bothering shortages in the writing, the company is still able to carry out a most immaculate rendition. Welcoming a newcomer to step into his moonwalking shoes, Jamaal Fields Green gives a superb portrayal of extraordinary accuracy – mirroring Jackson’s pitch, style, and mannerisms to arresting perfection. In addition, both his vocal and physical interpretation are extremely adroit – an even more extraordinary merit given the uninterrupted intensity of the material, which is evenly supported by the entire rest of the troupe.

I just can’t be black or white about MJ. I would be lying if I said it didn’t leave me in awe, and with the chills that very few other shows have ever triggered in me. You don’t always need to go to the theatre to think (some might be grateful for that), but we should always be moved by what we come to see. You can really appreciate how MJ wants to be starting something in terms of emotion, but in the end, that’s generally reserved to the wow factor of the production instead of the heart of the piece. There is no doubt that this explosive, earworm-coated extravaganza will give you thrills like no others. But if after watching it, your smooth critical mind thinks that the script stopped before you got enough, let me tell you: you are not alone.

All pictures credit to Matthew Murphy.

MJ – The Musical plays at London’s Prince Edward Theatre from Monday to Saturday. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara