Michael Jackson (98 page)

Prior to the Michael Jackson interview, Martin Bashir was most famous for his 1995 television dissection of Diana, Princess
of Wales. Almost twenty-three million people watched her confess royal unhappiness about her difficult marriage to Prince
Charles, his relationship to Camilla Parker Bowles and the complex, personal embarrassment Diana called ‘three in a marriage’.
Soon after, the Queen urged Charles and Diana to divorce. Because Diana had won global sympathy with her interview, Michael
believed Martin when he presented himself as ‘the man who turned Diana’s life around’. Actually, if he had examined the history
of the Diana documentary, he would have found that it didn’t help her. As she revealed details of her tragic recent life in
a halting, hypnotic voice, it was as if she had decided to self-destruct, and do it on television. During her interviews,
she seemed distant, aloof and damaged. To her advantage, though, she was the victim of certain challenges, such as eating
disorders and marital discord, which could, at least, be understandable to the viewer. There was no way she would be viewed
as a freak of nature. Instead, she appeared to be a sad woman whose life had spun out of control – and was still spinning, in
fact – and who had decided to just come clean with it. However, Michael Jackson – with his plastic surgeries, babies with no maternal
presence and intense fascination with youngsters – took a greater risk when he decided to allow Martin Bashir into the environment
his first wife called his ‘world of wonder’.

After his Diana extravaganza, Martin Bashir won an award from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts and was named
the Royal Television Society’s Journalist of the Year for 1996. He subsequently landed other high-profile interviews, including
one with anguished gay British actor-comedian Michael Barrymore, in the news after the drowning of a young man during a party
at his house.

Martin courted Michael Jackson for five years, trying to convince him to participate in the documentary. Finally, after being
recommended by Michael’s friend, the paranormalist Uri Geller, Martin was given an audience with Michael, during which he
was able to convince him to cooperate. Michael then allowed him total access to his life for eight months, despite the fact
that his advisers felt that such cooperation would not bode well for him. Martin Bashir spent time at Neverland in California,
and travelled across the United States and Europe with Michael. (Uri would later regret having ever introduced Michael to
Martin.)

The most interesting aspect of the documentary is not what it revealed, though much of it was astounding. What fascinates
about
Living with Michael Jackson
is that its subject ever allowed it to be filmed, which suggests that Michael either still does not understand how he is
perceived by much of the public or that he doesn’t care. He truly believed, according to those who know him best, that it
was a savvy public relations manoeuvre, to allow a stranger to document his world from an outside view point and in a way
that would prevent Michael from having control over the final content. He wasn’t thinking clearly about it. He thought it
was a cool thing to do because Diana had done it, and he felt sure that the public would be interested in his life. He never
imagined anyone would be shocked by it because he simply does not think he or his life is shocking.

Some in Michael’s camp – like John Branca, it was said – never believed the project would be completed. Like many entertainers,
Michael involves himself in many projects that never get past the developmental stage, and it was hoped that this one would
be another on that list. Such a project would surely never have been released in days-long-gone when others had influence
over him.

Some supporters of Michael’s have tried to spin the Martin Bashir documentary as a positive in the star’s life, saying that
he presented a sympathetic image of himself in it. Of course, while watching him discuss the beatings he endured by his father,
one’s heart went out to him. Michael recalled that Joseph sat in a chair as the boys rehearsed, ‘and he had this belt in his
hand. If you didn’t do it the right way, he would tear you up, really get you. It was bad. Real bad.’ He is still traumatized
by his childhood and it doesn’t appear that he has come to terms with much of it. However, that said, most of the rest of
the 110 minutes made Michael appear to be about as eccentric a character as pop culture has ever produced.

For instance, his description of Paris’s birth: ‘I was so anxious to get her home after cutting the cord – I hate to say this – I
snatched her and just went home with all the placenta and everything all over her. I just got her in a towel and ran.’

Privately, Debbie Rowe takes the absurdity to a new level by confirming that Michael had the placenta frozen! (Of course he
did, one might observe. How else could he keep it?)

Michael’s constant complaining about sensational tabloid coverage of his life seems irrelevant when his actions are jaw-dropping
enough to provide
true
material to such publications. ‘Wacko-Jacko Kidnaps His Own baby Just Hours After Birth’, screamed the front-page headline
in
Star
in April 1998. (‘He just snatched the kid away from her.’) ‘Jacko Snatches Baby Minutes After Birth’ blared the headline
in
National Enquirer
that same week. (‘Michael gave Debbie a peck on the check, took Paris in his arms and whisked her off.’) Who would have believed
these stories? However, even the writers of those articles may have thought it a leap to report that Michael had the placenta
frozen
; that would have been too much of a stretch even for them!

Another scene showed him feeding Prince Michael II with a bottle. As he fed the infant, concealed by a green chiffon scarf,
Michael vigorously bounced him on his knee. ‘I love you, Blanket,’ he cooed, ‘I love you, Blanket.’ Then, seeming somewhat
wild-eyed and jittery, he recalled his actions on the balcony in Germany, explaining that he had the infant firmly in hand
when he briefly dangled him off the side, and that it was the media that was responsible for the ensuing fracas, not him.
‘Why would I put a scarf over the baby’s face if I was trying to throw him off a balcony?’ Michael asked, angrily. ‘We were
waving to thousands of fans below and they were chanting to see my child, and I was kind enough to let them see.’

Of his love for children, he noted, ‘I’ll say it a million times. I’m not afraid to say it. If there were no children on this
earth, if somebody announced that all kids are dead, I would jump off the balcony immediately. I’m done. I’m done.’

Most maddening, perhaps, was Michael’s insistence that ‘I’ve had no plastic surgery on my face, just my nose. It helped me
breathe better, so I can hit the higher notes.’ He claimed that he’s only had two surgeries, both on his nose. I’m telling
you the honest truth. I don’t do anything to my face,’ he said. After all of these years, one would think he would have a
better way to deal with the issue of plastic surgery. How about: ‘Obviously, I have had plastic surgery. Next question, please.’
Who could argue with that?

Throughout the ages, the one safe haven to which a celebrity can always retreat from an aggressive media is the ‘No Comment’
zone. It works. Jackie Kennedy, for instance, rarely had an interesting public comment to make about anything, and no one
held it against her. It’s often better, in fact, if celebrities have nothing to say, especially if they are unconventional
people who behave in a way that, no matter how much they try, they simply will not be able to explain to anyone’s satisfaction.

For anyone who knew Michael, watching the Martin Bashir documentary was painful. Lisa Marie Presley telephoned Neverland the
next morning, telling his assistant that she wanted to speak to Michael as soon as possible. She was in another state, on
a radio tour for her album. Still, she took the time to call to see how her ex-husband was handling the highly publicized
controversy.

When Michael heard that Lisa was trying to reach him, his heart began to race. He still hasn’t got over what he shared with
her and, according to what he has said, believes that one day, somehow, they will be together again. When Lisa married actor
Nicolas Cage in Hawaii in November 2002, Michael had been troubled. When they separated after less than four months, he called
her to check in on her. ‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ she told him. ‘It’s just another shit storm in my life. I’m getting through
it, just shovelling through the bullshit.’ He laughed.

He called her at the number she left for him. ‘Dude!’ Lisa said as soon as she got on the line. ‘That documentary fucking
sucked
, man. What were you
thinking?
‘

They couldn’t stop laughing. Leave it to her to lift his spirits. ‘Oh, screw Martin Bashir,’ she said. ‘That guy’s never gonna
work again, Michael. Who would ever trust him? He’s over. You fucking killed his career.’

‘I think maybe he tried to kill mine, Lisa,’ Michael said.

‘Oh, please,’ she told him, ‘it’s gonna take more than that shit head of a reporter to kill your career, believe me.’

It could be argued that Martin had exploited Michael with all of his leading questions, his presumptions, expressed fascination
and bemusement. For instance, he encouraged Michael to climb the tree atop which he writes many of his songs while at one
with the beauty of Neverland, his so-called ‘Magic Tree’. One doubts he did so because he was trying to show Michael’s playful
side. What he got was the image of Michael sitting alone, on top of a tree. It worked; it was touching and even somewhat disturbing.
When Martin later followed Michael on a Las Vegas shopping spree and observed him spending thousands of dollars on the worst,
most gaudy furnishings, was he doing it for any other reason than to make Michael look like a spectacle? But why, by the same
token, did Michael allow himself to be seen this way? There were also a number of sanctimonious voiceovers from Martin as
he stood in judgement of Michael and his life.

Michael was at home, in Neverland, with a few friends and advisers when he viewed an advance copy of
Living with Michael Jackson
, just before it aired in the UK. He expected to be pleased with it. ‘However, he knew within five minutes that he was going
to be very unhappy,’ said an associate. ‘He watched quietly. You could hear a pin drop in the room, no one wanted to say a
word. When it was over, he was quiet. He kept saying, “I can’t believe he would do this to me.” There was a lot of discussion
about blocking the programme’s broadcast, but not much hope held out for it. Mike drank a lot of wine, that night, trying
to dull the misery. It wasn’t until the next day that he became angry. Then, he was adamant that he didn’t want it released.
His attorneys said there was no way to block it. “Don’t tell me that, now. Find a way,” he said, angrily. However, they were
never able to do that.’

In the final analysis, though, Michael did say what he said and was the way he was – tricky editing had nothing to do with him,
at the age of forty-four, holding hands and giggling with a cancer-survivor, age twelve, and admitting that he sometimes sleeps
in the same room with him. Recalled the youngster, his head nuzzling against Michael’s shoulder, ‘I was, like, “Michael,
you
can sleep in the bed,” and he was, like, “No, no,
you
sleep in the bed,” and I was, like, “No, no, no,
you
sleep in the bed,” and then he said, “Look, if you love me, then
you’ll
sleep in the bed.” I was, like, “Oh,
man!
”’ said the youngster. ‘So, I finally slept in the bed.’ (Michael slept on the floor.)

As the boy spoke, Michael gazed upon him steadily, clearly wanting to convey his affection and devotion. Once again, by his
own doing, he had presented himself to the world in a way that would cause the raising of eyebrows and the wagging of tongues.
Michael told Martin, ‘I have slept in a bed with many children. Why can’t you share your bed? The most loving thing to do
is to share your bed with someone. When you say “bed”, you’re thinking sexual. They make that sexual; it’s not sexual. We’re
going to sleep, I tuck them in and I put a little music on, and when it’s story time, I read a book. We go to sleep with the
fireplace on. I give them hot milk, you know, we have cookies. It’s very charming, it’s very sweet; it’s what the whole world
should do.’

Of course, talent and excess go hand in hand in the entertainment world, and in some ways Michael Jackson may be no more eccentric
than certain other stars in pop history. Imagine what
Living With Elvis
might have looked like in his declining years, secluded at Graceland, paranoid and on drugs? The problem for Michael is that
he has been publicly wigging out for more than fifteen years, since the hyperbaric chamber scam of 1986. ‘No, I
am
Peter Pan,’ he told Martin Bashir. ‘I’m Peter Pan in my
heart
.’ Such PR has never served him well in the court of public opinion; his wacky image only serves to diminish his important,
hard-earned legacy in the entertainment field.

Perhaps Lisa Marie said it best to
Playboy
writer, Rob Tannenbaum: ‘For a while, Michael was like the Wizard of Oz, the man behind the curtain. At one time, he was
really good at manipulating a Howard Hughes type of image. He became this bigger-than-life figure. But at some point, it turned
on him and he became this freak [in some of the public’s view]. And now he can’t get out from under it. When you’re the king
of your own palace, there are no morals or ethics or integrity. Everyone will kiss your ass and then give you the push that
knocks you over.’

After
Living with Michael Jackson
aired in the United States, an unhappy Michael issued a statement saying that he felt ‘devastated’ and ‘utterly betrayed’
by the documentary, that he viewed it as ‘a gross distortion of the truth’ and a ‘tawdry attempt to misrepresent’ his life
and his abilities as a father. Michael clearly felt that the journalist had let him down. Blaming the sensational tone of
the documentary on its editing and on what he saw as Bashir’s bad-faith intentions, Michael then launched a turn-about-is-fair-play
offensive by releasing a sixteen-second extract of unreleased film that would, it was hoped, make Bashir look like a complete
ass.