Unbelievably, it’s 17 years since Michael Jackson died, and lately there seems to be a concerted effort to rehabilitate his reputation – there’s even a biopic on the way shortly. So naturally we’ll find a few documentaries popping up this year, of which BBC’s three-part series Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy is a substantial example.
There aren’t many people who knew him as a person rather than as the planet’s biggest recording artist (or oddest tabloid obsession), but this rounds up a respectable number to recount his spectacular career and life.
The series traces Jackson’s journey from his breakout 1960s years with the Jackson 5 to his death in 2009, digging up footage and interviews I at least am not familiar with. That’s important, because the story itself is familiar: the soft-spoken child who shone even in a band referred to as “the black Beatles”, the solo stardom, the surgeries, the pets, the scandals.
Despite all his talent, though, for decades it’s been true that, when you hear his name “You don’t think what a great artist, you think, what a weird guy”, as one commentator here says. And, of course, the first episode looked at the bullying regime of the Jacksons’ father Joseph. LaToya Jackson says “he wasn’t as cruel as everyone says”, but she seems barely convinced herself.
What came across mostly in episode one is that, aside from the damage done to a child whose worth is only judged by profits, Michael never had a chance to be normal or self-aware because he had never had a normal existence to judge things by.
That’s just one episode, though, so presumably the rest will look at the child abuse accusations and the ever-widening gulf between MJ and the world.
So far it’s just a recounting of stories, with little attempt at analysis, or at challenging those who tried to protect the brand regardless of any victims he left behind. But while it does nothing new, it does at least bring together the separate elements of the Jackson story, which might help put context on the forthcoming biopic Michael.
The Predator Of Seville
Netflix’s new crime documentary is The Predator Of Seville, which has several ways of setting itself apart from other true crime series: it’s just three parts, it’s not overcooked, and it was filmed last year while the trial at the heart of it was still ongoing (which means it was able to capture some immediate reactions when the verdict came through).
It’s told mainly through the charmingly frank testimony of Gabrielle Vega, a young American woman who, on a 2013 day trip with a Seville tour group, was drugged and attacked by the owner and guide, Manuel Blanco.
By sheer chance a long while later, another woman, who was conducting a Facebook survey, happened to spot the similarities between Gabrielle’s story and that of another young woman; soon they had gathered similar stories from many other young women in America who had not only had the same thing happen to them, but had faced the same problems in reporting it: stuck in a foreign country without evidence, lacking the local language or knowledge of what to do next, and usually time-limited.
It looked more and more like a hugely calculated and sustained effort to find victims from Blanco, the ageing lad-about-town with manipulative charisma.
We follow Gabrielle as she becomes friend, detective, and legal advisor to all those other women (we meet some of them too), putting it all into a tortuous legal case that was, eventually, heard in Spain just last year.
It’s a no-nonsense series, getting straight to the point and allowing the women to tell their stories, while also building up a picture of Blanco’s predatory swagger. It could, perhaps, have spent a little more time exploring the systemic issues that all advanced legal systems have, especially when dealing remotely with years-old incidents; but then again, they’re not quite the point of the story, which remains with the women involved, especially the warmly stubborn Gabrielle.
Secret Garden
Meanwhile, in happier tones, Secret Garden is a suitable way for the BBC to mark David Attenborough’s 100th birthday: he’s still working, of course (and how we will miss him), here narrating stories of the wildlife of gardens and parks.
It’s the kind of thing you’d see on Springwatch, but it uses the high-resolution cameras and patient techniques typically reserved for Attenborough shows set in rainforests or savannas.
In fairness, the first garden is hardly typical: a riverside Oxfordshire home with vast, semi-wild spaces and several kinds of habitat. Even so, it has a surprisingly rich ecosystem, and, once you actually look, some dramatic natural stories involving kingfishers and voles, flooding and weather, and a mother duck nicely outwitting some hungry otters.
Humans wander in and out through it too, but unusually for humanity we don’t ruin everything – if anything it all emphasises how, if we could just reframe the world, we could all benefit.
A lovely series, showing us how wonderful the ordinary can be.
Intinní Áille – Beautiful Minds
Intinní Áille – Beautiful Minds was a well-made RTÉ film about neurodivergence which not only noted how open we are becoming about the subject (with public figures like Blindboy and Ray Foley discussing autism and ADHD), but how we are still a bit confused personally and societally by it.
Specifically, it followed teacher and presenter Róisín Ní Thomáin as she explored her own suspicion that she was neurodivergent, given her anxiety, constant activity, and her child’s dyspraxia.
It’s an interesting, sometimes surprising study. Foley, once sceptical, explains how his diagnosis reshaped how he understood himself, which encourages Ní Thomáin to get her own assessment; which, on the way, allows her to show how difficult it can be for families to access the support they need.
In the end – spoiler alert – it turns out that Ní Thomáin is likely not neurodivergent after all, which reassures her, but I suspect leaves other issues to be explored: for example, what does it say about modern society that it has created so much problematic anxiety and uneasiness even among neurotypical people?
Your Song – Channel 4
Meanwhile, Channel 4 are giving us another talent show, and one that’s inexplicably on at a time that might suggest it had some weight, or value more than the messy old karaoke it is.
Maybe it’s just because Your Song is all about contestants singing the one song that sums up their lives for them: so there’ll be plenty of stretched notes, tears and sugar. Just imagine all those “it’s for me nan” backstories we see on other singing shows, promoted to the main event.
Another inexplicable thing: Alison is still on the telly. Judges Paloma Faith and Sam Ryder seem blandly pleasant enough, though, if you really are tuning in for the songs, be warned that they talk over them.
It’s all a bit mystifying (a bit like BBC’s singing competition The Voice, which often won’t let viewers hear the actual voice, only a processed and modulated version of it; you know, just to fill time between the teary stories we’re really there for).