‘MJ: The Musical’ @ Bass Perf. Hall (Performing Arts Fort Worth)
—Rickey Wax
Presented by “Broadway at the Bass” as part of Performing Arts Fort Worth’s season in Fort Worth, MJ: The Musical is less of a traditional jukebox biography and more of a kinetic deep-dive into the machinery, trauma, and brilliance behind one of the most iconic entertainers of all time. With a book by Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Lynn Nottage (Sweat, Clyde’s), and direction and choreography by Tony Award winner Christopher Wheeldon (An American in Paris), this musical honors the legacy of Michael Jackson while inviting the audience to look closer—sometimes uncomfortably so—at the human being behind the moonwalk.
The show opens in a frenzied rehearsal studio in 1992. Michael Jackson ( Jordan Markus) is preparing for his Dangerous world tour, hot off the record-breaking success of Bad. He’s restless, obsessive, and teetering on the edge of financial ruin as he continues to add expensive pyrotechnics and production enhancements. His longtime business manager Dave (Jed Resnick) reminds him that the only way to pay for the tour may be to take a loan against Neverland—Michael’s personal paradise. Michael, however, has other plans: donate the proceeds of the tour to charity and, in his words, “heal the world” through music.
Into this crucible walks Rachel (Rajané Katurah), a hard-nosed MTV journalist sent to film a behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of the tour. But her real assignment is clear: uncover the truth behind Michael’s mysterious persona, the scandals, and the solitude. The tension is immediate. Michael wants to focus on the art; Rachel wants the man behind it.
As the interview unfolds, MJ uses this journalistic framing device to open up portals into Michael’s memory. Childhood trauma bleeds into rehearsal sequences. The voice of his mother, Katherine (played with grounded warmth by Anastasia Talley), hovers over him—both nurturing and haunting. Through flashbacks, we meet a young Little Michael (Bane Griffith), full of innocence, and his controlling father, Joseph Jackson (Devin Bowles), who manages The Jackson 5 with a militaristic fist. Bowles doubles as Rob, Michael’s tour manager in the present, offering an anchoring presence across time.
Lynn Nottage’s script doesn’t shy away from the darker corners of Jackson’s story—painkiller use, media pressure, and the high cost of perfectionism are all touched upon. There’s even a moment when a live microphone catches a choreographer making a troubling offhand comment, further amplifying the sense that Michael is a man constantly being watched, recorded, and judged.
We’re transported into his past, guided by flashes of music and emotion. Little Michael (Griffith is magnetic in the role) is bright-eyed and pitch-perfect, a child prodigy performing with joy and intensity. But just offstage stands Joseph Jackson, the imposing father-turned-taskmaster whose demands feel less like parenting and more like pressure-cooking. The musical number “Thriller,” usually a crowd-pleasing, choreographed fright fest, becomes something more disturbing here. The lighting turns blood red, shadows crawl across the stage, and for a moment, it feels like we’re in the haunted house of Michael’s own childhood. It’s chilling — and brilliant. His performance of the song is less performative and more cathartic. (And yes, those were goosebumps on everyone’s arms.)
Wheeldon’s direction masterfully blends dance and storytelling. Scenic designer Derek McLane keeps the set versatile and fluid: one minute, it’s a studio; the next, we’re on stage at Madison Square Garden. Natasha Katz’s lighting is emotionally exact. Whenever the lights turn red, it signals Michael’s most vulnerable moments—a visual thread tying together scenes of fear, doubt, and emotional exhaustion. It’s subtle, but powerful. (Red = "Dangerous," indeed.)
And if you're wondering if the show brings the spectacle? It does. Paul Tazewell’s costumes channel MJ’s iconic style without slipping into cartoonish mimicry, while Peter Nigrini’s projections bathe the space in memory, movement, and sometimes media madness. During “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” the entire audience clapped along—some even sang out loud. (I won’t name names, but a few folks two rows over hit every lyric like they were on tour.) It was a genuine celebration, a moment where the fourth wall melted in joy.
But MJ is more than just a celebration. It’s also a reckoning. Lynn Nottage’s book walks a tightrope— exploring Michael’s pain, the price of his fame, and the weight of being everyone’s icon—while still offering a measure of grace. She gives us a man haunted not just by tabloids or lawsuits, but by memories, expectations, and the warped sense of love he learned in childhood. Talley’s Katherine Jackson offers warmth and wisdom, but also reveals the complexity of her love—encouraging Michael's dreams, but also reinforcing sacrifice as the currency of worth.
Resnick’s pragmatic Dave, the business manager who delivers hard truths about money, risk, and legacy, is a hard-nosed addition to the voices Michael hears. When Dave suggests mortgaging Neverland to fund the tour, Michael recoils. His response? Bet on himself. Keep the vision pure. Donate the proceeds to charity. If this were fiction, we might call that idealistic — but knowing Michael’s real-life humanitarianism, it lands.
Jordan Markus deserves every superlative available in the way he channels Jackson. The movement, the voice, the inflections—it's all there, but what’s most impressive is the emotional honesty. Whether he's spinning through “Smooth Criminal” or teasing his crew with a miniature water gun, Markus delivers a fully realized, human performance. Not an icon. A man.
By the second act, the themes deepen, with issues of resilience, artistic integrity, and loneliness at the top. “Man in the Mirror” becomes a confessional rather than a concert closer. Of course, the production is ultimately a celebration of Jackson’s artistry. His commitment to message-driven music—songs about healing, unity, and justice—gets its due here. Songs like “Earth Song” and “They Don’t Care About Us” hit harder in the theatrical context, framed by the struggles he faced offstage.
Lynn Nottage doesn’t aim to exonerate or condemn Michael Jackson. Instead, she dramatizes the war between the music and the man, leaving the audience to decide whether they are separable.
In MJ: The Musical, we are reminded that the gloved hand, the gravity-defying lean, the million-record milestones were all the product of a deeply human, deeply complicated soul. It is, quite simply, a show fit for the King of Pop—and one that dares to ask us to see him not just as a pop star, but as a person.
WHEN: May 13-18, 2025
WHERE: Bass Performance Hall, 525 Commerce St, Fort Worth
WEB: www.basshall.com
