The jukebox musical, that pesky, indefatigable theatrical genre that critics love to loathe (usually for good reason), comes in an array of different forms. Some are pure nostalgia fests (”Motown” or ”Ain’t Too Proud”). Others are best enjoyed after a tipple or two (”Mamma Mia!” or Jimmy Buffett’s ”Escape to Margaritaville”). A rare, select few manage to elevate its borrowed material, transforming it into something refreshingly new (such as ”Girl From the North Country,” which really shouldn’t be considered alongside those other shows).
Then, there is “MJ,” the Michael Jackson tribute now running at the CAA Ed Mirvish Theatre.
It’s not exactly a vehicle of nostalgia. Nor does it need a boozy accompaniment to make it go down easier. And it operates nowhere near the level of sophistication of a show like “Girl From the North Country.” What is “MJ,” then? Call it a posthumous character rehabilitation for the King of Pop — and a rather uninspired one at that.
Ever since the #MeToo era, there’s been renewed discussion about what it means to separate the art from the artist. Is that even doable? Ultimately, how much you enjoy “MJ” will likely depend on how you answer that question.
It’s a question posed early on in the show, written by the two-time Pulitzer Prize-winner Lynn Nottage. “Is it really possible to separate your life from your music?” the documentarian Rachel (Kristin Stokes) asks Jackson, in rehearsal for his “Dangerous” world tour.
Personally, and more generally, I think that it is indeed possible to separate an artist’s life from their work. Their life certainly informs their art, and should not be entirely discounted when evaluating their creative output. But good art can also be appreciated on its own terms. Plus, if we throw out every piece of brilliant art created by awful people, we’d have a landfill rivalling the height of Mount Everest, piled high with everything from Picasso paintings, Roald Dahl novels and, yes, even those diamond Jackson records.
The issue with “MJ,” however, is that it wants to have its cake and eat it at the same time.
In some scenes, the musical desperately wants its audience to decouple MJ, the superstar music-maker, from Michael Jackson, the controversial, imperfect figure. But in other moments, Nottage contradicts herself. She wants to paint a portrait — a sympathetic one — of the man behind the music. His drug addiction is presented on full display, as well as the abuse he suffered at the hands of his cruel, uncompromising father, Joseph (Devin Bowles).
Jackson, the playwright wants her audience to believe, is a product of his upbringing, a Mozart-like boy genius who was forced to grow up too soon, too fast, and whose ambition often got the best of him.
Yet this selective retrospective blithely ignores some of the thornier aspects of Jackson’s legacy. It also happens to be conveniently set in 1992, before some of the most serious allegations of child sexual abuse were levelled against the pop star. (He vehemently denied those charges while he was alive.) In the end, Nottage asks a lot of her audience: Consider the part of Jackson’s life that help serve this story, about an artist who fights through adversity and ends up triumphant. But ignore all the rest.
Maybe other audiences can go along with that directive. But I couldn’t. By about two-thirds of the way into the first act, the tension was not so much coming from within the narrative (as it should be), but rather between Nottage’s story and what was missing from it. At that point, my suspension of disbelief had been broken.
(It should be noted that this musical was produced with the approval of Jackson’s estate. It also premiered just two years after the HBO documentary “Leaving Neverland,” which shone a light on new allegations of sexual abuse against the singer. Read into that what you will.)
Perhaps I would’ve been more willing to buy into “MJ” if it were more compelling. But Nottage’s creation, or at least this North American touring production of it, is mostly a banal, clichéd, paint-by-numbers product, padded with all the hits from Jackson’s catalogue.
As in many other biographical jukebox musicals, Nottage splits her central subject into three distinct roles, each representing the separate eras of Jackson’s career: there’s his eldest version from 1992, known simply as MJ (Jordan Markus), middle Michael (Brandon Lee Harris), and little Michael from The Jackson 5 (played on opening night by Bryce A. Holmes, alternating with Quentin Blanton Jr.).
Nottage’s framing device, of a documentary crew following MJ as he prepares for his world tour, feels entirely hokey and contrived. Flashback sequences to Jackson’s childhood (always basked in a reddish glow with Natasha Katz’s lighting designs) are much the same.
I’ll admit there are some scenes in “MJ” that shine. The top of the second act, in particular, a meditation on Jackson’s dance style and his influences, largely works because it dispenses with Nottage’s awkward framing device and zeroes in not on Jackson’s life, but his craft. Here, in a sequence beginning with “Billie Jean” and leading into “Smooth Criminal,” director Christopher Wheeldon’s choreography comes to life — crisp, angular and rhythmic, with limbs jutting out to and fro. It’s a respective homage to Jackson’s own moves and also the moves of those who came before him, like Fred Astaire and the great Bob Fosse.
But just when you think Nottage’s has done away with that cumbersome narrative device, which all but sinks the first act, it returns more forcefully than ever.
As MJ, Markus delivers a strong impersonation of the late pop superstar, down to his shy demeanour and soft, high-pitched speaking voice. (Frustratingly, he even mimics the real singer’s lack of enunciation to a tee.) But Markus’ performance remains just that: an impersonation that rarely digs below the emotional surface.
The real standout of this production, however, is Harris, an actor with formidable stage presence, and an even more formidable, full-throated voice. There’s a hunger to his middle Michael, and Harris does an excellent job of showing his character’s transformation — from a young teen, full of hope and potential, into the man who becomes MJ, crippled by his own insecurities and by the weight of the world.
The hard-working dancers in this touring company also deserve special praise. So too does Rajané Katurah, who plays Jackson’s mother and offers a heartfelt rendition of “I’ll Be There.” But as for the rest of the cast, with performances that range from distastefully hammy to woefully underpowered, the less said, the better.
No biographical jukebox musical will ever be completely honest. The genre will always be used as a tool for artists, or their estates, to shape a legacy. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen a musical that attempts, so aggressively, to whitewash a legacy the way that “MJ” does.
It’s quite the irony that the musical ends with the 1988 single “Man in the Mirror.” “Take a look at yourself,” the company belts out during the song’s anthemic chorus. For a show that claims to explore the creative process behind one of pop music’s greatest stars, “MJ” could use a bit of that advice.
