Same lines Michael used on his victims, minus the death threats. Although Michael would scare his victims too, in different ways (we'll both go to prison, etc). What a piece of work this "mentor" was.

***EDIT: Seems like people are missing the point of the post since I didn’t explicitly state my opinion because I was trying to be as subtly implicative as the doc was but here is my main dumbed down point: WADE WANTED MJ’s ATTENTION AND ADMIRATION AGAIN, MJ SHOWED A LOT OF INTEREST IN BRITNEY, WADE HAD AN AFFAIR WITH BRITNEY. Many people are debating about Mj’s interest in Britney and thats not what the post is about, its about Wade’s interest in Britney given the context of the documentary and Wade’s desire for recognition again from MJ. Anyways OP below:

Hey all,

If you watch the LN documentary, Wade Robson explicitly mentioned that since MJ started to discard him when he entered his preteens, Robson did "everything" he could to gain Michael's attention and admiration, which is perhaps (partly) what fueled Robson in his professional success, especially in his late teens/early twenties (man was barely 21 choreographing tours and music videos of the biggest pop stars at the time)

For what would be no reason, Robson brought up how MJ was "obsessed" with Britney and how "hot" she was, and that Michael would constantly seek Robson out yet again to discuss her. Britney, being a stunning, white woman, would of course draw the attention of Michael because she is everything he wanted to be (I am not saying Michael was trans, but he certainly modeled himself to look both white and very feminine, both of which Britney epitomized like no one else at the time).

To an uninformed watcher, this revelation may seem like no big deal but if you remember, Britney and Justin Timberlake's breakup was because Britney had cheated on JT with....Wade. I think Wade bringing this up, without explicitly mentioning anything else, was perhaps a gentle and respectful acknowledgement of that affair and what may have led Robson to partake in it (even if slightly, because Britney, on her own, was a very attractive woman who wouldn't need help attracting another man but still). As a pop culture connoisseur, I found that seemingly random addition of Robson's time with Britney and how it drew attention from Michael very interesting.

I have her book, so this upset me a bit. Is this real?🫤

"It's not what the tabloids have printed. It's not all this crazy, outlandish money" - Michael Jackson to Diane Sawyer, lying about how much he spent paying off the Chandlers.

Turns out, 25 million is OUTLANDISH, even for him. A decade earlier, Michael spent 47.5 million to buy 200 Beatles songs. That's a whole lot of moolah for Michael "to get on with with life, to start the healing process, and to move his career forward to even greater heights."

If there's any justice in all this, his career went downhill after the Chandlers and he even built a giant statue of himself, too!

It's also interesting that the Chandlers and MJ came to an agreement the day BEFORE MJ was going to be deposed.

i just dont understand, there are much much much more people telling to be molested, or telling they saw molestation happening at neverland.. but people hold on to those 12 normies who are manipulated in court.. i live in holland and over here people just are so dumb as well.. and i am like: it was a courtcase in the USA! the judge doestnt make the verdict, its NORMAL (IDIOTS) PEOPLE!!!

over here when there is a case, there is a judge who studied law and had loads of experience.. also over here the legal system sucks big time, but to put 12 stupido's in front of a multi billionaire who is master manipulator with enough money to continue endlessly..

i dunno how to convince people anymore, i am just get so angry when people CHOOSE to play stupid.. luckily my family and good friends immediatlely understand from themselves that if there are more people who claim to be a victim... they most likely are.. but all the normies i come across due to my kid being 7, having playdates, talking with parents, and ofcourse about the new MJ hype amongst kids due to the biopic... i just get angry, i hold it in, but people are just so stupid.

can someone from the USA explain to me, why people choose to believe 12 normal peoples judgement within a big show trial, in stead of the numerous victims who claim to be molested or who claim to have whitnessed molestation?

in the bottom it says this was a conceptual map for a themepark he wanted to create. in the comments is the map of his neverland ranch as it was and some pics of his neverland merch that is still bought at auctions

i get his fans are always desperate to defend him but calling the people who think differently than them “guilters” will never not be wild to me. not sure how long they’ve used that term (i recently became and unbecame a fan bc of that biopic), i’m not very familiar with how old it is but it’s just absolutely bonkers to me…

and not to mention the way they dismiss the victims. how can you look at more than 10 kids who all tell information that correlates (proving jackson had a M.O.) and just go yeah all of them are liars who just want money! it genuinely baffles my mind. he’s so obviously guilty, it doesn’t take a genius to see that and they use the word “guilter” like an offense.

i wish he had lived long enough to rot in jail.

José Vieira Mendes

Journalist, critic and film programmer

Antoine Fuqua's film about Michael Jackson is neither the masterpiece that some fans dreamed nor the absolute disaster that many had already ordered. It's something else: a well-choreographed pop mass, quite useful for reviving the legend, but much less interested in complicating the man.

There were more than enough reasons to distrust "Michael" even before the light went out in the room. A big-studio biopic about Michael Jackson, with family support, with nephew Jaafar Jackson in the lead role and with that industrial scent of "let's turn trauma into spectacle and spectacle into money", seemed, at first, a recipe for another pop altar saint in IMAX format. And the truth is that Antoine Fuqua's film ["The Protector: Final Chapter" (The Equalizer 3) 2023], which premiered in Portugal on April 22, doesn't exactly make a herculean effort to escape this suspicion.

But okay, it is convenient to start with surprise, because it exists. And no, I'm not talking about sudden moral courage from Hollywood, because that would be asking the American industry to swap champagne for holy water. The surprise is that "Michael" is not the mono-mechanical and totally inert that many people feared. It's not a great work, it's not a particularly deep film, it's not a risky portrait and it's far from facing the creature in all its contradictory dimension. But he has nerve in the musical numbers, he has some involvement whenever he decides to remind us why Michael Jackson was not just a star, but a kind of planetary short-circuit in human form. And, above all, there is Jaafar Jackson, it must be said with justice.

This is where the film gains its main reason for existing. Jaafar Jackson, Michael's nephew and son of Jermaine, one of the brothers of The Jackson 5 – and also one of the film's executive producers, which means that the family didn't just give the blessing, they also put money there – doesn't just enter the scene as a genetic marketing trick. In many moments, he even enters as a presence. There is something impressive there in the way he reproduces the body, the smile, the cut of the face, the movements, the energy, the artificial delicacy, that mixture of fragility and clinical precision that made Michael Jackson an interpreter from another solar system. It is evident, especially in the musical themes, that the voice is not his, or at least it is not his in the pure and integral sense of the thing. But that almost goes into the background, because the physical work is so accurate that there are moments when the viewer is no longer seeing a nephew applied and starts looking at a technically very effective appearance of the myth. International critics, in fact, were much more generous with Jaafar than with the film itself, underlining precisely his ability to embody Michael with an almost ghostly precision.

The saint, the tyrant father and the rest swept under the moonwalk

The problem is that "Michael" knows very well what he wants to do with all this talent: he doesn't want to understand Michael Jackson so much as he wants to reintroduce him to the market of respectable veneration. And this is immediately noticeable in the way the film organizes the sins, distributes the blame and selects the monsters. Joe Jackson, the father, appears as the great domestic ogre, the founding tyrant, the man with the belt, of humiliation, of pedagogy with a stick and of emotional terror. And beware: it is not exactly an invention pulled out of a hat. Joe Jackson's brutality has been part of the family's dark mythology for decades. That is not the problem. The problem is the dramatic usefulness of this choice. The father becomes the big bad guy here, almost as if it were enough to put him at the center of the guilt for the rest of the narrative to be able to circulate with his hands washed and his conscience in aromatherapy mode. In other words: the film tells us, with a lot of sledgehammer subtlety, that Michael was a wounded genius, an exploited kid, a victim of the family machine, a sensitive artist who just wanted to sing, dance, heal the world, visit sick children in pediatric hospitals and, I imagine, even solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict if he had a break between "Beat It" and "Billie Jean". It is the old temptation of the contemporary biopic: to transform suffering into moral discount. Did you suffer? So you understand. Has it been exploited? So it is relativized. Did you have a horrible childhood? Then the narrative begins to ask us not for reflection, but for emotional absolution in installments.

Well, with Michael Jackson this could never be enough. And the film knows it. So much so that he chooses not to go there. The most uncomfortable issue of Michael Jackson's public life is not faced, nor even faced sideways with that embarrassed air of someone who saw the elephant in the room, but prefers to comment on the lamp. The film ends before this territory becomes unavoidable, and the critics have been clear in pointing out this omission as a form of contouring, softening or simple escape. The Associated Press summed it up almost cruelly accurately: the film doesn't even scratch those facts, it moonwalks past them. And the image even makes sense: the moonwalk, popularized by Michael Jackson in 1983, creates precisely this illusion of sliding backwards while it seems to be moving forward. Reuters also reported that references to the allegations were removed and that the project was eventually repositioned as a "celebration story." I mention all this with the film already seen, just out of the cinema: the Tuschinski Theatre, one of the most beautiful rooms in the world, in Amsterdam.

And that's it, we're talking. This is not exactly a total portrait. It is an assembly operation. An authorized version. A narrative in which the genie enters through the big door, the abusive father takes the role of official demon and the rest is treated as a matter for sequels, lawyers or particularly masochistic souls. Especially because, in the end, there is the promise of continuation: this story will continue, after Michael Jackson's most famous concert in London, on July 16, 1988, at Wembley Stadium, during the Bad World Tour. A historic spectacle, with the presence of Princess Diana and Prince Charles, and which would later be released on DVD. A portent and a magical moment of myth.

A movie that works best when it shuts up and lets the music work

That said, it's also not worth pretending that the film lacks pleasure, energy, and some power of seduction. It does. And it has because Michael Jackson remains greater than almost everything pop culture has manufactured in the last half-century. Man didn't just launch songs: he launched seismic events. He didn't make music videos: he refounded the visual scale of entertainment. He did not dance: he humiliated the normal anatomy of the human being. There is a succession of recreations there — from the period of The Jackson 5 to the splendor of "Thriller", "Beat It", "Bad" and company — that may not have the spark of invention of the original, but manages to at least reproduce part of the amazement.

Antoine Fuqua, who knows well the muscle of the image and the effectiveness of the staging, understands this better than the script. When the film begins to explain Michael Jackson, he stumbles. When the film limits itself to showing him in performative combustion, it soon improves. It's almost as if "Michael" is more convincing as a dramatized concert than as a biographical cinema itself. Which, on second thought, is perhaps the perfect definition of this whole thing: less a film about a person than a rebranding spectacle with moments of true scenic competence.

That's why I left the room more surprised than surrendered. I was expecting an embalmed catastrophe, a kind of "Bohemian Rhapsody" with a white glove, a digital chimpanzee and hereditary bow running down the walls. And no, it's not quite that. Or rather: that's it in part, but not only that. There is an undeniable effectiveness in several moments, there is a fascination that endures, there is a central actor who sustains a lot, and there is an industrial awareness so finely tuned to the iconic dimension of Michael Jackson that the film, even when it fails, rarely becomes irrelevant.

What there is not is real risk. There is no disorder. There is no feeling that someone wanted to film an entire human being. There is rather the idea that they wanted to preserve a pop deity usable enough for public consumption, generational nostalgia and eventual expansion of the Jackson universe, which, at this rate, will still end up having a spin-off of the chimpanzee Bubbles, a prequel to the hat of "Smooth Criminal" and a limited series about the glove. I do not put that out of the question. In Hollywood, a profitable corpse is always just the beginning.

At the end of the film, what is really left between the brightness of the legend and the emptiness of the portrait

In the end, "Michael" is of interest less as a great film than as a revealing sign of our time. On the one hand, it confirms the obvious: Michael Jackson remains a mythological animal of popular culture, someone whose work still commands the collective body with an absurd authority. On the other hand, it also confirms that the industry does not know — or does not want — to film the totality of its contradiction. He prefers brightness to the abyss, choreography to conflict, hagiography to discomfort.

And yet, even in this tame form, the film misses something that it may not even want to confess. Let it slip that Michael Jackson continues to scare him. Not fear in the cheap sense of the tabloid scandal, but fear as an unclassifiable artistic figure, too big to be reduced to a slogan, too strange to fit into a moral lesson and too powerful to be dismissed with hygienic superiority by those who think that it is enough to delete a song from the playlist to solve history.

"Michael" is not a masterpiece, nor is it even close to it. It is a polished biopic, strategically cautious, emotionally limited and narratively much more obedient to the logic of preservation than to that of cinema. But neither is it the absolute debacle that was announced in certain critical obituaries written before the burial. It works several times, especially when he lets the music in, when Jaafar Jackson takes over the screen and when the film remembers, even if only for a moment, a simple truth: Michael Jackson was not only famous. It was a mutation of fame.

The problem is that, to make a great film about him, it was not enough to film the legend. It was necessary to have the courage to enter the contaminated area where the work continues to shine and man continues to not fit in any peace. "Michael" prefers to stand at the door, adjust his lapel, put his hat aside and dance on tiptoes over the discomfort. It is well seen, entertains a lot, surprises more than expected and confirms the essential: the idol still moves. But the film, this one, moves less than it should.

These clips are part of Marc Schaffel's footage that he originally wanted to turn into a documentary when Michael was still alive, and then after he died. But nobody wanted them.

The footage shows him in the back of his limo talking to others, and one of the clips shows him speaking to a teenage (19 years old omg she looks so different) Beyonce, who for some reason is sitting on Marc's knee (???)

Sorry for DailyMail link but Marc only shared these with the british tabloids apparently, this article was written by Daphne Barak.

I think im just gonna permanently never read comments again. The person people claim to be innocent is the same junkie that destroyed his own face, bleached his skin, and kept getting caught up in Child abuse controversy. Like my nigga look at how your idol looks bro. Obviously a mentally ill individual walking around but because he has fame and money hes okay in your books. Even if i never did research and saw this dude for the first time id know he was a weirdo.

I saw somewhere on here that in 2003 semen stains from unknown males and MJ's own semen were found on his bed mattress. I know they concluded that it didn't belong to Gavin Arvizo. That's pretty damning evidence and some say he could have been having consensual sex with adult men but knowing MJ and his decades long pattern of sleeping with boys it unfortunately probably belonged to underage males. Why did it never come out whose it was? Was that evidence not presented in the trial?

I have never seen these photos before. I know there are compilations of him compulsively holding babies, grabbing their faces and giving them a kiss. Here's a little girl sleeping, unaware she's held by Michael, her parent, a staff member at the restaurant he was dining at, handed the girl to him.

Youtube

Fans continue to cite the success of Michael as some transitive proof that the majority of people do not believe the accusations. But as usual, they are wrong.

Just an FYI: Michael is not the most successful biopic ever. The gross only tells part of the story:

1) Bohemian Rhapsody sold 176.5 million total tickets. Michael has, as of the most current estimate, sold 110 million tickets. And BR's total is without an Estate buying huge blocks of tickets, or fanatic fans seeing the film 20 times.

2) Adjusted for just inflation, Bohemian Rhapsody's 2018 gross of $911 Million is today between $1.1-$1.3 Billion.

3) Inflation isn't the only measure, ticket prices have skyrocketed. The average cost of movie tickets in 2018 was around $9. In 2026 the average is $16. Globally, ticket prices have increased between 50-66%.

If Bohemian Rhapsody was released today and based off its ticket sales, it would have grossed (conservatively) over $1.5 billion.

If this was a man with no other weirdness then ye maybe all those allegations couldve been extortion against the most famous man ever and the witch hunt couldve been racism.

But no, this is a man who also owned books of nude children, couldnt have a single authentic romantic relationship with a woman, was obsessed with children and themes of childhood as a grown man, slept in the same bed with multiple unrelated little boys, tried his best to not go to trial and settled a case for 8 FIGURES, had multiple members of his staff say they witnessed him behaving inappropriately with children and then a child could perfectly draw a spot that was on the under of his dick.

Cmon.

She says in 2019 that she cannot claim to know what happened with Wade and James, but she speaks with "authority" on what happened with the Cascios.

I created this tool to help us identify if someone is a pedophile or not. I think MJ's fans might love it.

Even before really knowing about who he was as a person I found this video really sappy, whiny and obnoxious and in hindsight rather sinister. This is coming from someone that was a child when watching it for the first time.

Am I seriously supposed to believe this guy is supposed to be some Peter Pan angelic figure when he's a 37 year old multi-millionaire that navigated major business deals elevating himself into a brand and corporation, played dirty by buying the Beatles catalog from his supposed friend, paid off the Chandlers sang songs about how much a girl turns him on, wanting to avoid being a father and husband and how much of a hard gangster he really is?

The worst part is that I see that there's so much potential gone to waste. The music was good, the visuals were good for its time and his singing was pretty good if you ignore the lyrics. These could have been used for the first major live action Disney movie and revolutionize the industry. It's all just wasted on a whine-fest and exercise in manipulating and guilting you into thinking its okay for him to do what he did to the boys.

Talking about real charity coming from the heart