Count me among those stunned by the news of Michael Jackson's death yesterday. After all, he was younger than I am, and supposedly in substantially better health than I. He had recently passed a physical taken to confirm his ability to carry out his 50-performance "comeback" tour that had been scheduled to start in London next month.
What saddens me the most about Jackson is that he never learned how to accept himself. All those plastic surgeries . . . and he was actually better-looking in the "Before" photos than he was in the "After" ones. He spent virtually all his life under public scrutiny; he was incredibly talented; he was shrewd and smart about many, many things [he created the moniker "The King of Pop"--Ed.]--but at the same time, he was very lonely, and he repeatedly engaged in what can be most charitably described as ill-considered behavior which produced unintended and unpleasant (for him and us) consequences.
It's an archetypal story, that of the genius who attains true brilliance at an early age and who spends the rest of his life trying, unsuccessfully, to match, let alone exceed, past successes. It typically comes to such a sad end. The greatest sadness is that in this case, it didn't have to. I learned yesterday that Jackson idolized Sammy Davis, Jr., and regarded his as a mentor. It makes perfect sense, and it reveals (to me, at least) an entire new dimension to Jackson's dancing style. It's just too bad that Jackson didn't learn some of Davis's mental grit. But then again, most of us idolize those whose character traits seem somehow better than ours . . . and in important ways, Jackson was a gentle child who never had to face adult realities until it was too late for him to develop the grown-up perspective and mental toughness (รก la Davis) to comprehend the consequences of some of his actions, let alone to deal with the fallout from them.
I mourn his passing. I celebrate his genius. I kick myself for hearing in my head Weird Al Yankovic's parodies of some of Jackson's best mature work instead of Jackson's originals. Most of all, however, I hear the angelic tones of the 10-year-old Jackson's lead on "I'll Be There." I hope he finds the inner peace and self-acceptance suggested by that vocal that eluded him during his time with us mere mortals.
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