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Michael Jackson’s This Is It: Social and Historical Revision Through Documentary
Filming an essentially ephemeral event, a vanishing custom, a disappearing species, a transitory occurrence is the motivation behind most documentary
images. Documentary films provide a stability to an ever-changing reality,
freezing the images within their frames… (Rabinowitz 120) In her essay “Wreckage upon Wreckage: History, Documentary and the Ruins of
Memory”, Paula Rabinowitz describes the function of the documentary form to capture and “stabilize” a brief moment in reality. This stabilization is akin to the video documentation of events from a moment in time – documentary film captures
reality as it exists in a particular time and space, and then serves to recall that
moment for its audience. In doing so, documentaries “reconstruct historical narrative” (Rabinowitz 119) through the direct portrayal of historical information. It is crucial to the conception of the documentary form that “reconstruction” in this context is aptly defined. Bill Nichols notes, “a documentary is a creative
treatment of actuality, not a faithful transcription of it” (38) – while the documentary serves to capture reality, it does so with an element of subjectivity introduced by directorial and editorial choices. Thus documentary film, perhaps contrary to its name, is more than, in Rabinowitz’s words, the “graphing of history…
onto the present” (121); it is more than an impartial ‘document’. Although documentary is by its nature the capturing of past reality, the selective and editorial
nature of film as medium forces a limitation on such a projection of history for a present audience. Earnest Rose points to this limitation as the “frame of reference Inagaki 3 within which [the documentary’s] facts and problems could be interpreted” (7) – a
documentary produces historical reality from a particular viewpoint. This inherent quality of documentary – what one might call the viewpoint bias of the genre – enables documentary to influence history and society in a way
that other cinematic forms cannot. Rabinowitz observes, “[documentary] poses truth as a moral imperative” (121); the documentary form, in “freezing the images
within their frames”, has implied level of truthfulness. This truth results from an intrinsic and unspoken understanding between the maker and viewer that the film’s
content is of the ‘real world’ and has transpired at some time in the past. Yet, as has been established, the film as a historical document is not simply a record of fact, it is
a “creative treatment” of such. Thus the documentary’s viewpoint, riding on the
veracity of “truth as a moral imperative”, blurs the line between subjective and objective history. In doing so, documentary audiences are given a single vantage point as truth – a viewpoint as history – and are systematically influenced in their
viewing of the past. It is also the documentary form’s particular cognizance of and relationship with its audience that sets it apart from other genres of film. Documentary film has a
conscious relationship with its audience; at its core, it focuses on communicating
facts about real world history (through such mechanisms as commentary, interviews, and amateur video clips), which, by their very nature, assume the presence and attention of an audience. It is because of this interactive, direct nature
that Nichols suggests “the ‘history lesson’” (39) as a feature of the documentary. Rather than portraying events in a style that ignores the camera’s presence in order Inagaki 4 to create a sense of the candid capturing of some imagined reality, as fiction films do,
the documentary acts as a “lesson” in which the content and structure is consciously
geared toward the viewer. Ironically, the strategy by fiction film to represent the ‘real’ by ignoring the camera ultimately produces a lack of realism apparent to the
Brechtian viewer; a viewer distanced from the film, conscious of the camera’s existence within time and space, understands that ‘real’ within film can only result from interaction with, or at least consciousness of, the camera by the film’s subjects.
Consequently, fiction film depends on the audience’s willingness to forget that the
camera exists (this otherwise undermines the audience’s legitimization of the world’s reality), while documentaries rely on audience’s awareness of the camera’s
intrusion to clarify the film’s active imparting of information. Due to its sensationalist content and historical context into which it was released, Michael Jackson’s This Is It is a documentary with particular power to interact with and ultimately influence its audience. This Is It, comprised of rehearsal
footage and interviews taken for Jackson’s private library, utilizes specific content
choices and a powerful historical context – Jackson’s recent death – to revise the audiences’ social perception of Michael Jackson. The film creates a strong viewpoint
bias through the selectivity of its content and its interaction with its audience, enhanced by a historical context that, at the time of release, found viewers’ social
perspective on Michael Jackson especially malleable. In doing so, the film demonstrates the function of the documentary genre to address and ultimately
revise history and society. Inagaki 5 In an essay on documentary film, B. Ruby Rich describes the “hybrid phrase… ‘docutainment’” (110), a subcategory within the documentary genre. By Rich’s definition, a documentary with “focus on celebrities with name value or cult appeal” (110), This Is It is certainly “docutainment”. While this label at first seems pejorative,
the phrase is strikingly accurate and reflective of This Is It’s amalgamations of styles
and intentions. The film’s historical context and selected content enables it to function first as a form of historical memory. Simultaneously, by replacing the
intended live audience with the film’s audience, This Is It holds cathartic and
entertainment value in its aspect as a performance documentary. It is the combination of these elements – memory and entertainment – that enable the film’s
social revisionism. This Is It’s release on October 28, 2009, followed shortly after Michael Jackson’s death on June 25 of that year. His death was sudden and unexpected to the
public, and Susan Fast notes that it led to a rebirth of attention to his work and music as people were “suddenly buying up his records in vast quantities, putting him top of the charts for the first time in years” (259). This came after Jackson had faced years of unpopularity and negative attention from the media and much of the population, largely resulting from his androgynous, asexual/homosexual image and
two accusations of child molestation, both of which ended without Jackson’s conviction (Fast 264-265). As a result of his death, the societal perception of Michael
Jackson, propagated by the media, began to shift. This changing social attitude towards Jackson is evident in its immediate box office success – in its first weekend, This Is It grossed over $23 million1. Suddenly, peoples’ love for, or at least interest in, Inagaki 6 Michael Jackson was reawakened. As they flocked to the film in theaters, they joined
in the documentary’s bias remembering of history – its capturing of the “ephemeral
event” of Jackson’s final days – and thus participated in the slow, but immensely
powerful social-perception shift advanced by the film itself. Opening her discussion of the documentary form, Rabinowitz observes, “documentary cinema is intimately tied to historical memory” (199). In its capturing
and refashioning of history, documentary is itself a type of “historical memory”. It records the past in such a way that history can, at any moment, be recalled through
viewing. When the audience sees Michael Jackson in This Is It, they share in a
communal recollection of history; in viewing the film, the world’s history is perceived in relation with the life and presence of one man. This historical context is,
in fact, addressed overtly in the stage production that the film depicts. During the
performance’s introduction, a montage of historical footage plays, a voiceover stating, “we have our video that is called ‘Glimpses and Flashes’”, which includes
clips of Obama, Nelson Mandela, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and early Michael Jackson in succession (This Is It 00:03:43). This montage is a direct historical contextualization of Michael Jackson – originally intended for the concert’s live audience, but equally relevant for the film’s audience – that places Jackson in history
among the largest historical figures of the past century. As an introduction to the film, the montage evokes history and conditions the audience’s view of This Is It as a
film that, like the iconic clips in the montage, captures a larger-than-life historical
figure. The film thus prefaces the remembering and reconsideration of Michael
Jackson by setting him into a place among the greats of history. Inagaki 7 Before the film’s socially revisionary power can be fully addressed, one must first understand the film’s function as a performance documentary. Rose notes that
documentary provides “a sense of participation so that the subject is not only intellectually understood, but also felt by the heart” (8); This Is It utilizes more than
its historical function, which provides the intellectual understanding, to effectively
address and revise history – it draws on a “sense of participation” to stimulate the
viewer’s emotional understanding, which is what ultimately connects the viewer with Jackson and changes the viewer’s perception of the man. The film achieves this interactivity by treating its audience as the stage performance’s live audience and by
creating a narrative structure for the film that follows the chronology of the live
musical performance. Originally intended for Jackson’s personal library and as live film content for the performance, the footage for This Is It comes almost entirely from handheld
cameras documenting the show’s rehearsals. What we see pieced together are largely images of Michael Jackson on stage, singing and dancing. This introduces a
level of interactivity – Jackson is on stage performing for us. The camera acts as a
proxy for our physical presence; although we are entirely absent from the Los Angeles Staple Center where the rehearsals took place2, we are nevertheless the
audience of the performance. This ‘proxy-audience’ effect manifests itself throughout the film in scenes during which the viewer watches from below (ostensibly in the area in front of the stage where the luckiest audience members
would be standing) as Michael Jackson performs. For example, while he sings “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” early in the film, the camera watches from below as Inagaki 8 Jackson runs across the stage, bright stage lights glaring into the camera and back up dancers and singers performing behind him (This Is It 00:09:21). Although it is recording a rehearsal, the film might just as well be capturing a live performance – the energy, the light, and the music are all present. For the film’s viewing audience,
this rehearsal is a performance and they have the best seat in the house. The visual style of the film also lends itself to the proxy-audience element of This Is It. Manohla Dargis, in an online review of the film, comments on the “soft,
almost smudged” (Dargis) visuals it utilizes. He notes that these visuals have a double effect, to both obscure detail and accentuate the general – “this distanced
vantage robs the curious of a chance to scrutinize that famous face, to unkindly survey the damage, but it also gives you the space to admire his liquid moves as he
slips and slides and glides” (Dargis). Such an effect, while particularly sympathetic to Michael Jackson, whose face was distorted by many self-inflicted plastic surgeries,
also lends itself to the ‘proxy-audience’ effect. During a musical performance, any
live audience member would see Michael Jackson just as Dargis describes; positioned off of the stage itself, the audience would see Jackson as a man on stage, “distanced” and “soft” through the inherent flaw of eyesight, but with enough clarity
to appreciate the fluidity of Jackson’s dancing. As an overarching method of achieving the ‘proxy-audience’ effect, This Is It is structured like a concert. The film is divided up into distinct, consecutive musical
numbers – opening with “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”, then “Jam”, and, among others, covering Jackson’s most famous songs, like “Smooth Criminal”, “Thriller”, and “Beat It”. As a result of this structure, the experience of the film holistically is Inagaki 9 very similar to that of a live musical performance – the film acts as a simulation for
its audience of what the real performance experience might have been. In light of Jackson’s death, this reminder through simulation, drawing upon the rehearsals for a performance that never came into being, acts as a final mediation between Jackson
and the world. A moment particularly indicative of this ‘simulation’ structure can be found in the first performance scene of the film, which depicts the opening of the live show.
The director, Kenny Ortega, can be heard describing the opening of the show over a
loudspeaker, ostensibly to Jackson in the rehearsal space: “So we open the show, as you know, with all the lights down. We’re going to create a spectacular opening with pyrotechnics and we want some sizzles and some cracks and some pops…” (This Is It
00:03:31). As Ortega describes the opening, visuals accompany each element as it is
named. The audience first sees computer-generated model of the “spectacular opening”, then a shot of fire leaping up onto the rehearsal stage, and then fireworks overhead. This scene, while orienting the viewer to the nature of the film (indicating
the rehearsal process and the documentary style), initiates the ‘simulation’ structure – the scene introduces the film’s chronological progression that mirrors
the live performance. Indeed, this opening scene transitions directly into the first
song, with Ortega saying “…and on Michael’s command, we begin” (This Is It 00:04:06). Jackson, standing frozen on the rehearsal stage, suddenly strikes a pose and marks the beginning of the first song. The performance begins for both Michael
Jackson and the film audience. Inagaki 10 The ‘proxy-audience’ function, alongside This Is It’s documentary function as a record of history, allows the film to revise history through social perception. Regarding the immediate effect of Jackson’s death, Paul Hollander remarks that, “the
solicitous reminiscences [after Jackson’s death] overlooked and in effect purified his dubious private life” (147). This Is It functions parallel to Hollander’s conception of a societal “reminiscence”, it acts as a recollection based in visual record and presented
after a process of content selection. It is this process that allows for “overlooking” and “purification” – the formation of the documentary’s viewpoint. By involving the
film audience in the experience of a large-scale Michael Jackson concert, the film engages the audience and focuses on Michael Jackson as an artist. Susan Fast notes that, by focusing only on Jackson’s performance rehearsals, “the film… is working to
balance the media sensationalism, bringing the focus back to [Michael Jackson’s]
brilliance as a musician and performer” (Fast 266). In its position as historical memory, this specific depiction re-informs the audience of Jackson’s being and selectively remembers Jackson’s “brilliance” onstage. In turn, the audience accepts this ‘memory’ as truth that they carry away from the film, modifying history and the
audience’s perception of Michael Jackson. Insofar as it informs a particular view of Jackson for the audience, the film’s depiction of Jackson is crucial to its socially revisionary function. This depiction can
be analyzed in terms of three interconnected categories: the shown, the omitted, and the scope. The most immediate of these three depictive categories is ‘the shown’.
In This Is It, the shown is very clear – the film depicts the process of preparing for
Jackson’s musical stage performance. Consequently, the audience mostly sees Inagaki 11 Jackson rehearsing – singing and dancing – on stage. However, the film also includes
interviews with backup dancers and musicians, rehearsal interactions between Jackson and many of those around him, and the audition process for the backup
dancers. Each of these elements is geared toward a positive portrayal of Jackson. All the interviews with the dancers and musicians express the ways that Jackson has
inspired them and their excitement to work with him. In one such interview, a
musician, speaking into the camera, says, “It’s really cool for me as a musical director because… [Jackson] is always hands-on in everything he does. He knows all
of his records, he knows all of his tempos, he knows all of his keys of songs,” (This Is
It 00:32:24). Hearing this, the film reminds the audience of another possible interpretation of Jackson’s life – one that focuses on Jackson’s artistic features,
rather than his personal troubles. Simultaneously, film of Jackson’s rehearsal interactions and audition process give the audience a sense of Jackson’s personality
outside his performance persona. Fast notes these significant moments: … we see Jackson, who rarely spoke to his audiences, or in interviews, giving directions to his musicians, interacting with them and his dancers in a gentle,
respectful, and sometimes endearingly funny manner, similar to the way his
many collaborators over the years say he engaged with them (Fast, 266). The inclusion of this content in the film – shots and scenes that display Jackson’s positive artistic qualities – leaves an impression of Jackson in stark contrast with the
image produced by Jackson’s personal troubles and propagated by the media. Inagaki 12 Just as important as what is seen in the film is what is withheld from the viewer. Critic David Edelstein, in his online review of the film, describes This Is It as “just process” (Edelstein). He observes that “This Is It gives you no context and offers
no posthumous commentary on the trajectory of Jackson’s life” (Edelstein), a statement that is entirely true, but somewhat misleading. This commentary is not
overtly addressed within the film because the film is not concerned with the “trajectory of Jackson’s life”, as “trajectory” suggests an inspection of Jackson’s entire life. The film is only concerned with how Jackson is remembered. This is why,
as Edelstein complains, there is no context within the film. The historical context –
largely Jackson’s fall from popularity and his too-public molestation accusations – only mars this selective portrayal, which attempts to utilize Jackson’s rehearsals as a
historical recounting that overshadows all other ‘memories’. How, though, does the film assure its prevalence within society’s collective historical memory of Jackson? It seems that the film, in focusing solely on Jackson’s
rehearsals for this one performance, might limit its own ability to provide commentary reflective of Jackson’s whole life. While historical placement plays a
crucial role in achieving this dominance, the film utilizes particular content and editing choices to extend the positive impression it gives along the most of Jackson’s
history (I have termed this idea ‘scope’). Scope is achieved partially in the film through cuts, within songs, between various stages in the rehearsal process. Every song in the film functions in this way – Jackson’s clothing is constantly switching, as
is the presence and preparedness of background dancers and elaborate set. These
constant chronological jumps dislodge the audience from any single time frame, Inagaki 13 instead focusing attention on the process as a whole. Nichols ...
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