Review: Michael Jackson Musical Is Some Thriller, Lots Bad

This image released by O&M shows Myles Frost as Michael Jackson in the musical "MJ." (O&M via AP)
This image released by O&M shows Myles Frost as Michael Jackson in the musical "MJ." (O&M via AP)
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Review: Michael Jackson Musical Is Some Thriller, Lots Bad

This image released by O&M shows Myles Frost as Michael Jackson in the musical "MJ." (O&M via AP)
This image released by O&M shows Myles Frost as Michael Jackson in the musical "MJ." (O&M via AP)

The new, splashy Broadway musical about Michael Jackson begins with the King of Pop plotting an ambitious tour to reclaim his throne. He’s facing financial ruin, swirling rumors and an addiction to pain pills. You’d think it was 2009, just weeks before his death. That’s the logical place to start. But logic has little to do with “MJ.”

It’s actually 1992 when Jackson kicks off the show by entering a Los Angeles rehearsal studio that serves as the jukebox musical’s main set. He’s putting the final touches on the “Dangerous” tour and drilling his exhausted dancers: “Do it until we get it clean.”

We will soon melt back in time — back to the Jackson 5, “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” — but never forward. Why 1992? Jackson will be on the “Dangerous” tour a year later when he is first formally accused of molestation, an allegation that will be settled. The Michael on Broadway will never face that, forever shielded.

That’s just one very large disingenuous note in an altogether baffling production that opened Tuesday at the Neil Simon Theatre. Like Jackson himself, there are moments of sheer genius punctuated by head-scratching weirdness.

The portrait offered of Jackson is of a perfectionist, driven by his love of music and to give his fans the best possible experience, no matter the cost. He’s misunderstood and a little quirky — he shoots a squirt gun during a business meeting — but harmless. Not predatory, but prey. The only thing he’s guilty of is caring too much for his charities. “The bigger it is, the more we can give back,” he says.

It’s curiously muted, shallow writing from playwright Lynn Nottage, someone who previously painted a harrowing picture of violent life in the midst of an African civil war with “Ruined.” The approval of the Michael Jackson estate — prominently trumpeted here — looms large.

Nottage and director and choreographer Christopher Wheeldon have one of the greatest music catalogues in the world and yet don’t seem to know how to handle it. Some pivotal songs — like “For the Love of Money” by The O’Jays — aren’t by Jackson at all. And a large bulk of Jackson’s songs used — including “Earth Song,” “Stranger in Moscow,” “Price of Fame” and “They Don’t Care About Us” — were released after 1992. You can’t have it both ways.

Even so, nothing should take away from a tireless, fully-committed Myles Frost, who plays Jackson with a high, whispery voice, a Lady Diana-like coquettishness and a fierce embrace of Jackson’s iconic dancing and singing style, right down to the rhythmic breathing and swiveling head. He Moonwalks insanely well.

The framing technique for this bio is a fictional MTV film crew that has gotten access to capture Jackson’s tour prep and their softball questions are used to coax out Jackson’s interior life, like “Do you ever get tired of the hype?” and “Forty-one million records and still counting. Eight Grammys. That’s gotta feel good.”

But even as it uses journalism to its own ends, the script clearly detests reporters. Act I ends with Jackson at a press conference hunted as a cabal of tabloid hacks dressed like extras from “The Matrix” crush him, even suggesting he is their puppet. It’s argued media pressure made him push himself, but we also learn that was instilled years ago by dad.

There are moments that reveal a potentially different show, one less blunt, more stylish and impressionistic. Act II opens with a sort of stripped-down dream sequence of dance, as if Wheeldon had finally wrested the project for himself. It breaks the fourth wall and is tonally like nothing else in the show.

In it, Jackson comes out alone and puts on a black sequined jacket, black fedora and single white glove, studded with rhinestones. He dances and sings “Billie Jean” and then soon identifies three key inspirations — Fred Astaire, The Nicholas Brothers and Bob Fosse — and then dances with each of them, showing how his style is in their debt (like Fosse’s bowler adopted as MJ’s fedora). It’s a brilliant bit of musical stagecraft.

Other highpoints include “I’ll Be There” used as duet between a young Jackson (one of two young men playing Michael from 8-10 is a dynamite Christian Wilson) and his mom (a terrific Ayana George, stealing every scene), which then nicely switches to her singing with the adult Michael. Berry Gordy and Michael also have a good duet, the repurposed “You Can’t Win” from “The Wiz.”

Clunkers include an off-the-wall fantasy sequence using “Human Nature” as Jackson takes the MTV reporter to the Hollywood sign — “the way you imagine the world is so beautiful,” she sighs — and a reprise of “Thriller” that seems to imply Jackson’s dad is a demon before his son is attacked by more than a dozen Jackson zombies. What’s being explained is unclear.

Nottage only obliquely nods to the coming storms: Jackson popping Demerol and unsettling allegations, including about a family he wants to bring on tour. “There’s been some dark struggles... Things I can’t...” Jackson stammers.

There are no bad guys in “MJ.” Even Jackson’s father, a demanding taskmaster who slaps young Michael and repeatedly cheats on his mom, emerges redeemed. “It may not feel like love but it is,” his mom explains.

It’s all very weird, a sloppy yet very calculated piece of image branding. But to quote the man himself in “Scream”: “I’m tired of you tellin’/The story your way/You’re causin’ confusion/You think it’s OK.”



Perry Bamonte, Keyboardist and Guitarist for The Cure, Dies at 65

Perry Bamonte of The Cure performs at North Island Credit Union Amphitheater on May 20, 2023 in Chula Vista, California. (Getty Images/AFP)
Perry Bamonte of The Cure performs at North Island Credit Union Amphitheater on May 20, 2023 in Chula Vista, California. (Getty Images/AFP)
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Perry Bamonte, Keyboardist and Guitarist for The Cure, Dies at 65

Perry Bamonte of The Cure performs at North Island Credit Union Amphitheater on May 20, 2023 in Chula Vista, California. (Getty Images/AFP)
Perry Bamonte of The Cure performs at North Island Credit Union Amphitheater on May 20, 2023 in Chula Vista, California. (Getty Images/AFP)

Perry Bamonte, keyboardist and guitarist in The Cure, has died at 65, the English indie rock band confirmed through their official website on Friday.

In a statement, the band wrote that Bamonte died "after a short illness at home" on Christmas Day.

"It is with enormous sadness that ‌we confirm ‌the death of our ‌great ⁠friend and ‌bandmate Perry Bamonte who passed away after a short illness at home over Christmas," the statement said, adding he was a "vital part of The Cure story."

The statement said Bamonte was ⁠a full-time member of The Cure since 1990, ‌playing guitar, six-string bass, ‍and keyboards, and ‍performed in more than 400 shows.

Bamonte, ‍born in London, England, in 1960, joined the band's road crew in 1984, working alongside his younger brother Daryl, who worked as tour manager for The Cure.

Bamonte first worked as ⁠an assistant to co-founder and lead vocalist, Robert Smith, before becoming a full member after keyboardist Roger O'Donnell left the band in 1990.

Bamonte's first album with The Cure was "Wish" in 1992. He continued to work with them on the next three albums.

He also had various acting ‌roles in movies: "Judge Dredd,About Time" and "The Crow."


First Bond Game in a Decade Hit by Two-month Delay

'007 First Light' depicts a younger Bond earning his license to kill. Ina FASSBENDER / AFP
'007 First Light' depicts a younger Bond earning his license to kill. Ina FASSBENDER / AFP
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First Bond Game in a Decade Hit by Two-month Delay

'007 First Light' depicts a younger Bond earning his license to kill. Ina FASSBENDER / AFP
'007 First Light' depicts a younger Bond earning his license to kill. Ina FASSBENDER / AFP

A Danish video game studio said it was delaying the release of the first James Bond video game in over a decade by two months to "refine the experience".

Fans will now have to wait until May 27 to play "007 First Light" featuring Ian Fleming's world-famous spy, after IO Interactive said on Tuesday it was postponing the launch to add some final touches.

"007 First Light is our most ambitious project to date, and the team has been fully focused on delivering an unforgettable James Bond experience," the Danish studio wrote on X.

Describing the game as "fully playable", IO Interactive said the two additional months would allow their team "to further polish and refine the experience", giving players "the strongest possible version at launch".

The game, which depicts a younger Bond earning his license to kill, is set to feature "globe-trotting, spycraft, gadgets, car chases, and more", IO Interactive added.

It has been more than a decade since a video game inspired by Bond was released. The initial release date was scheduled for March 27.


Movie Review: An Electric Timothee Chalamet Is the Consummate Striver in Propulsive ‘Marty Supreme’

 Timothee Chalamet attends the premiere of "Marty Supreme" at Regal Times Square on Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2025, in New York. (AP)
Timothee Chalamet attends the premiere of "Marty Supreme" at Regal Times Square on Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2025, in New York. (AP)
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Movie Review: An Electric Timothee Chalamet Is the Consummate Striver in Propulsive ‘Marty Supreme’

 Timothee Chalamet attends the premiere of "Marty Supreme" at Regal Times Square on Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2025, in New York. (AP)
Timothee Chalamet attends the premiere of "Marty Supreme" at Regal Times Square on Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2025, in New York. (AP)

“Everybody wants to rule the world,” goes the Tears for Fears song we hear at a key point in “Marty Supreme,” Josh Safdie’s nerve-busting adrenaline jolt of a movie starring a never-better Timothee Chalamet.

But here’s the thing: everybody may want to rule the world, but not everybody truly believes they CAN. This, one could argue, is what separates the true strivers from the rest of us.

And Marty — played by Chalamet in a delicious synergy of actor, role and whatever fairy dust makes a performance feel both preordained and magically fresh — is a striver. With every fiber of his restless, wiry body. They should add him to the dictionary definition.

Needless to say, Marty is a New Yorker.

Also needless to say, Chalamet is a New Yorker.

And so is Safdie, a writer-director Chalamet has called “the street poet of New York.” So, where else could this story be set?

It’s 1952, on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Marty Mauser is a salesman in his uncle’s shoe store, escaping to the storeroom for a hot tryst with his (married) girlfriend. This witty opening sequence won’t be the only thing recalling “Uncut Gems,” co-directed by Safdie with his brother Benny before the two split for solo projects. That film, which feels much like the precursor to “Marty Supreme,” began as a trip through the shiny innards of a rare opal, only to wind up inside Adam Sandler’s colon, mid-colonoscopy.

Sandler’s Howard Ratner was a New York striver, too, but sadder, and more troubled. Marty is young, determined, brash — with an eye always to the future. He’s a great salesman: “I could sell shoes to an amputee,” he boasts, crassly. But what he’s plotting to unveil to the world has nothing to do with shoes. It’s about table tennis.

How likely is it that this Jewish kid from the Lower East Side can become the very face of a sport in America, soon to be “staring at you from the cover of a Wheaties box?”

To Marty, perfectly likely. Still, he knows nobody in the US cares about table tennis. He’s so determined to prove everyone wrong, starting at the British Open in London, that when there’s a snag obtaining cash for his trip, he brandishes a gun at a colleague to get it.

Shaking off that sorta-armed robbery thing, Marty arrives in London, where he fast-talks his way into a suite at the Ritz. Here, he spies fellow guest Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow, in a wise, stylish return to the screen), a former movie star married to an insufferable tycoon (“Shark Tank” personality Kevin O’Leary, one of many nonactors here.)

Kay’s skeptical, but Marty finds a way to woo her. Really, all he has to say is: “Come watch me.” Once she sees him play, she’s sneaking into his room in a lace corselet.

This would be a good time to stop and consider Chalamet’s subtly transformed appearance. He is stick-thin — duh, he never stops moving. His mustache is skimpy. His skin is acne-scarred — just enough to erase any movie-star sheen. Most strikingly, his eyes, behind the round spectacles, are beady — and smaller. Definitely not those movie-star eyes.

But then, nearly all the faces in “Marty Supreme” are extraordinary. In a movie with more than 100 characters, we have known actors (Fran Drescher, Abel Ferrara); nonacting personalities (O’Leary, and an excellent Tyler Okonma (Tyler, The Creator) as Marty’s friend Wally); and exciting newcomers like Odessa A’Zion as Marty’s feisty girlfriend Rachel.

There are also a slew of nonactors in small parts, plus cameos from the likes of David Mamet and even high wire artist Philippe Petit. The dizzying array makes one curious how it all came together — is casting director Jennifer Venditti taking interns? Production notes tell us that for one hustling scene at a bowling alley, young men were recruited from a sports trading-card convention.

Elsewhere on the creative team, composer Daniel Lopatin succeeds in channeling both Marty’s beating heart and the ricochet of pingpong balls in his propulsive score. The script by Safdie and cowriter Ronald Bronstein, loosely based on real-life table tennis hustler Marty Reisman, beats with its own, never-stopping pulse. The same breakneck aesthetic applies to camera work by Darius Khondji.

Back now to London, where Marty makes the finals against Japanese player Koto Endo (Koto Kawaguchi, like his character a deaf table tennis champion). “I’ll be dropping a third atom bomb on them,” he brags — not his only questionable World War II quip. But Endo, with his unorthodox paddle and grip, prevails.

After a stint as a side act with the Harlem Globetrotters, including pingpong games with a seal — you’ll have to take our word for this, folks, we’re running low on space — Marty returns home, determined to make the imminent world championships in Tokyo.

But he's in trouble — remember he took cash at gunpoint? Worse, he has no money.

So Marty’s on the run. And he’ll do anything, however messy or dangerous, to get to Japan. Even if he has to totally debase himself (mark our words), or endanger friends — or abandon loyal and brave Rachel.

Is there something else for Marty, besides his obsessive goal? If so, he doesn’t know it yet. But the lyrics of another song used in the film are instructive here: “Everybody’s got to learn sometime.”

So can a single-minded striver ultimately learn something new about his own life?

We'll have to see. As Marty might say: “Come watch me.”