What have we done to the world?
Look what we’ve done
What about all the peace
That you pledge your only son...
—Michael Jackson, Earth Song.
This is hallowed turf we stand on. Michael Jackson should not be dead. On June 25, 2009 the world, and certainly Michael’s millions of fans, came to feel his pain, cataclysmically, yet for the last time. The journey of his astoundingly enigmatic life ended; a person of unusually deep emotion reconciled, finally.
THIS IS IT (2009), the final curtain call as recorded during rehearsals for Michael’s fifty London shows, is an inspiringly reverential and breathtaking behind-the-scenes production—a treat for all humanity, not simply for the MJ tragic. It’s the way we want to remember this modern-day icon, the King of Pop.
As a Christian it is hard for me to stomach references that Michael Jackson (MJ) came close to being considered a deity; nevertheless, his steeped presence in this ‘curtain call’ exposé is something to behold. “Unique,” as a word, seems so understated and therefore unfitting for MJ—as an artist and as a person. The incredibly talented artists working with him revered him with god-like awe. One just feels for these artists who make it to the halcyon in one leap, performing with MJ.
What about the artist—Michael Jackson? What could someone take from THIS IS IT, having not been around him previously? He is genius on a whole separate level to common humanity as far as genius is concerned. His artistic thought revealed other seasoned geniuses as confused deer in the headlights—he felt things so purely. He pushed the boundaries, always. To call MJ a “professional” would be a common, blatant insult. He was on another plane altogether.
Let it burn”
—Michael Jackson, concluding Beat It.
What about the person—Michael Jackson—spokesperson for the health of planet earth? This speaks to his love...
It would not be fitting to conclude a shutter-speed exposé on Michael Jackson without burrowing into his purity at a human level. Paradoxically harangued like a criminal since at least 1993, his felt love would be hard for almost anyone to attain. And one feels the thin blue line between a world of love and a world of pain was frequently breached and blurred, for love and pain are such close kin—the kaleidoscope of emotive experience in one concept. He must have felt it all.
As he would say, and now we say back to him, ‘God bless you...,’ God bless you, Michael.
© S. J. Wickham, 2009.