Any jukebox musical that assumes the form of hagiography, as many do, presents the challenge of competing with fans’ memories of a renowned performer. In the case of MJ, that performer happens to be one of the most preternaturally gifted entertainers of the past century, and those crafting the tribute face no less daunting a task than the actor cast as the star. For as even Michael Jackson’s most ardent admirers and defenders would have to admit, his life did not lend itself to a portrait nearly as exuberant as his music was.
It’s a credit to everyone involved in MJ, then, that there’s no shortage of joy here. The catalog, from the buoyant Jackson 5 hits that the superstar fronted as a child prodigy to the pop-soul masterpieces that later filled solo albums such as Off the Wall and the blockbuster Thriller, features ideal showcases for the spectacular talent that director and choreographer Christopher Wheeldon has culled. The title role is played by Myles Frost, whose Playbill bio cites his “preparation and mastery,” and whose performance does not disappoint. It’s all there: the gleaming tenor, by turns shivery and siren-like, and piercing falsetto; the elastic limbs and feet, sliding as if on ice, jumping and jerking in bursts that seem at once frenetic and impeccably controlled. (Frost’s live vocals also benefit from the kind of expert mixing that pop stars enjoy, courtesy of sound designer Gareth Owen.) Frost even has the soft, boyish speaking voice and shy, self-conscious manner down.
[Read Jesse Oxfeld’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
The supporting players appear in up to three or four roles, ranging from Jackson’s parents and brothers to earlier R&B icons and the dancers and choreographers who inspired his smooth moves. Most turn up as singers and dancers preparing for his tour promoting the 1991 album Dangerous; MJ is set the following year, in a Los Angeles studio, where an MTV crew has arrived to document rehearsals and conduct an interview. Flashbacks tracing Jackson’s early family life and meteoric rise segue into the present, where Jackson and his colleagues field career pressures, financial concerns and rumors of the superstar’s increasingly eccentric and self-destructive behavior. The MTV reporter and cameraman hover nearby, eager for a scoop.
Librettist Lynn Nottage, a two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright who did lovely work for the musical The Secret Life of Bees—and who adapted her Intimate Apparel for an opera that just opened off-Broadway—seems to have been stifled by this setup. Whitney Bashor and Gabriel Ruiz, respectively cast as the reporter, Rachel, and cameraman, Alejandro, have particularly thankless tasks, dropping banal questions and observations as they try to get the goods on their elusive subject. “This is an opportunity we’re never gonna get again,” Rachel gushes before diving in, trying to butter up her subject with pearls like, “Your new album’s been slaying the charts,” and, “I love the old Motown songs.” When Jackson doesn’t immediately melt, Alejandro notes, “I’m getting the distinct vibe that the King of Pop doesn’t, like, let a lot of people in.” Ya think?
Jackson’s personal quirks and foibles are hardly ignored here—though conveniently, MJ‘s timeline concludes before accusations arose that the singer was sexually preying on minors. There is a loaded reference to “allegations” near the end of Act One, as Jackson is seen at a press conference, fielding questions about plastic surgery and skin bleaching. Nottage’s book and Frost’s performance actually make a pretty good case for the theory that Jackson was, rather than an active pedophile, a boy who never grew up, because he wasn’t allowed to; Quentin Earl Darrington, who plays the concert director, also appears as Joseph Jackson, the star’s famously abusive father, and there are convincing, even endearing nods to the grown Michael’s childlike behavior, and more sobering references to his drug abuse.
Wisely, though, MJ neither defends its subject from the most serious charges against him nor urges us to distinguish between the artist and his art. Like most jukebox fare, it’s at its most winning when song and dance are in progress—and since Jackson’s hits always lent themselves to theatrical presentation, and theater and film giants were among his biggest influences, Wheeldon and his company have plenty of room to fly. In one sequence, the ballet-bred choreographer and director pays cool, glistening homage to Fred Astaire, Bob Fosse and the seminal duo the Nicholas Brothers, offering a bit of historical perspective on the restless brilliance captured in other routines. To Nottage’s credit, MJ also gives due respect to the professional and creative collaborators who figured into Jackson’s success—chief among them Quincy Jones, a man who should be sainted for his contributions to popular music. Jones is smoothly played by Apollo Levine, who also provides robust singing as soul pioneer Jackie Wilson and Tito Jackson.
Other standouts in the cast include Ayana George, an equally supple vocalist who adds warmth as Jackson’s mom, Katherine, and the young actors who play “Little Michael” and “Middle Michael”: Tavon Olds-Sample, who summons Jackson’s magic during his teenage and young adult years, and the adorable Christian Wilson, who at the preview I attended sang sweetly and danced nimbly as the boy wonder. (Wilson shares the part with Walter Russell III.) Derek McLane’s scenic design and Paul Tazewell’s costumes adroitly summon both the razzle-dazzle of Jackson’s performances and his less glamorous quests for perfection in art and peace at home.
When that perfection is evoked—when Frost re-enacts Jackson’s show-stopping performance of “Billie Jean” during Motown’s 25th anniversary celebration, for example—we are reminded what a thriller this artist was. Whatever price he paid, or toll he exacted on others, will no doubt continue to be a source of speculation. Let’s just hope it’s not in another musical.
