The Beat: Michael Jackson’s “This Is It”

Sometimes you forget Michael Jackson is dead, because he's so alive in "This Is It."

Other times, you're struck with a profound sadness when you remember that what is on screen really is the last piece of history from an artist who truly cared about his craft and excelled at executing it.

And that we'll never see him again.

Released four months and three days after Jackson's untimely death, "This Is It" spans a rehearsal period of March to June as Jackson, his airtight band and a cadre of some of the best young dancers on the planet prepared for his run of 50 London shows that were slated to begin mere weeks after he died.

The film's hour-and-40-minute run time was culled from 120 hours of raw footage, so it's important to keep in mind that while the Jackson we're shown is unfailingly sweet and playful, surely there were some unflattering moments in those other 118 hours.

The guy approached his work like a jackhammer, but he was still human.

Still, who can fault director Kenny Ortega, who also choreographed this Jackson extravaganza, for choosing only the bright spots to share with fans? This isn't intended as a warts-and-all documentary but a glimpse into Jackson's creative process -- and at what clearly would have been one phenomenally imaginative concert.

Most surprising is the level of Jackson's involvement in inventing the show. As one band member says, pop stars aren't usually that dedicated.

But Jackson is there to march through military precision moves with his dancers as they prepare a spectacular effect for "They Don't Really Care About Us." He spends several minutes discussing a single chord change with his musical director for a recast opening to "The Way You Make Me Feel." He's right behind the camera monitors, sucking on a lollipop, as his elaborately decorated dancers shimmy through a Disney-esque graveyard scene for a new video to introduce "Thriller."

What a pity that so much time, money and brainpower will never be fully realized.

Many are likely curious about Jackson's physical state, and truth be told, though painfully thin, Jackson usually appears fit and spry, his body alternately gliding like a paper doll and popping and locking with a heartiness equal to the dancers half his age. That doesn't mean it isn't valid to wonder if any 50-year-old could have handled the pounding physical demands of re-creating this spectacle 50 times.

While the film occasionally tosses in brief interviews with the dancers and band members, who, naturally, gush and cry about their excitement over working with the entertainment legend (think of how they feel now), the reason fans have been clamoring for weeks is because they want to see Jackson in his element.

Despite the roughness of some footage -- and that Jackson, to preserve his voice, isn't always singing -- there are plenty of moments that will induce spirited singalongs and tears from the movie audience.

"Smooth Criminal," even with its silly insertion of Jackson into a classic film? Singalong.

His feathery falsetto on "Human Nature" and tender grown-up croon on "I'll Be There"? Sniff.

"Black Or White," when he generously encourages his amazing guitarist, Orianthi Panagaris, to step into the spotlight, telling her, "It's your turn to shine"? A little bit of both.

Jackson is so effortlessly comfortable on stage, especially when he's immersed in his own world of liquid dance moves during a faithful re-creation of "Billie Jean," that today it seems baffling that he hadn't played a show in America since Sept. 10, 2001.

But as the tabloids will keep reminding us, Jackson's personal complications stole so many years of potential from him.

Throughout "This Is It," Jackson is referred to as "sir" more than once from random sound and production guys -- a formality that the singer in no way suggests is required -- and his tiniest complaints, about an irritating ear monitor or a missed cue, result in a figurative stampede of yes-men clamoring to appease him.

Maybe -- and this is the most heartbreaking realization of all -- if Jackson had a few people to sometimes tell him no, he'd still be here.

Contact Melissa Ruggieri at (804) 649-6120 or . Follow her at http://twitter.com/MRuggieri