British film-maker Tom Goudsmit has chosen a quintessentially American subject for his first feature-length documentary: people seeking to better their lots by impersonating, or just pretending to be, celebrities. In this case, all three of the subjects are young black men from the hinterland of central California who impersonate the late Michael Jackson from different eras in the pop star’s life. High-voiced Chavail dresses as MJ from around the time of his early-80s album Bad; Quintin, the most diehard Jackson fan of the three, dresses as his hero in the Thriller era, and Malachi, who really wants to be a singer in his own right, covers Dangerous-era Jackson.
Working as a team, they travel to San Francisco and later Los Angeles to busk on the streets or wander around nightclubs, hoping to pick up tips. It’s a tough way to earn a meagre income, and it looks like the three of them sleep in a car overnight when they make it to LA. As well as doing their choreographed dance-and-patter shtick on the streets of Hollywood near Jackson’s Walk of Fame star, they seek out an agent – any kind of agent – to help them take the act to the next level. But when they finally meet a woman who specialises in impersonation acts none of the three are thrilled with the tough home truths she has to deliver about what it will take to get ahead. If you look very closely you can see the hope escaping from their bodies for a moment, like steam from a cooling cup of tea.
The film never explains exactly when it was shot, but mini-montages of the media reaction to the documentary Leaving Neverland, in which two men say they are survivors of sexual abuse meted out by Jackson, suggest this was made sometime around 2019. Even though it’s clear the three subjects aren’t terribly keen on learning about their hero’s dark side, they all agree, presumably at the urging of Goudsmit, to watch the documentary which clearly shakes, if only briefly in the case of one guy, their faith. This collision between fantasy and reality is arguably the most interesting part of the film given that you can both feel sympathy for the trio’s commitment to their different dreams but still recognise the dogged refusal to let go of their devotion, despite the mounting evidence.
By adhering to a stand-back-and-watch approach, Goudsmit lets the comedy of the situation bubble naturally to the surface; in one scene, for example, Chavail, bless his cotton socks, explains how he’s considering careers as “a preacher, foot therapist, porn star, actor, salesman of some sort, host or nude model” should the Michael Jackson impersonating not work out. This being 21st-century California, it’s that third option that looks most likely by the end of the film.
• The Three Michaels is on Prime Video now.
