We’re Off to Never-Neverland
By: Rajiv Satyal
Tags: Michael Jackson, Leaving Neverland, Abuse, Pop Culture, Music

And then last week, we watched the two-part, four-hour documentary, Leaving Neverland, on HBO. To me, it devastatingly proved the guilt of Michael Jackson, beyond a Reasonable Doubt. #JayZ

In fairness, whenever I watch true crime, I generally think the person did it. I’m like a police officer that Sarah Koenig describes in Serial:

~“Cops pretty much think everybody is lying to them all of the time.”

We watched Steve Avery in Making a Murderer on Netflix. He did it. We started The Case Against Adnan Syed on HBO. He did it. We watched The Ted Bundy Tapes on Netflix. He did it.

Serial. Murderer. Bundy. We live in a joyous household.

Obviously, Bundy’s a safe bet. The difference, of course, is that Syed and Avery were charged with one count, whereas Bundy and Jackson (and R. Kelly and Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein and the Catholic Church) are charged with multiple counts. They used to say that, due to the enormous number of pension and benefits it owed to its workers, General Motors was basically a healthcare company that happened to make cars. In that way, the Catholic Church is basically a scandal that happens to hand out wafers.

Harsh? Well, I cannot think of a single case where an institution or a celebrity implicated by multiple victims has ever turned out to be innocent. Can you?

In the long run, female and child abuse are the consistent themes here. (I’m generally hesitant to use the term “rape culture,” but I was stunned to learn that 17 states in America have no minimum marital age requirement. Between 2000 and 2015, over 200,000 minors were legally married in the United States. If that’s not rape culture, then what is?) What is abundantly clear in Leaving Neverland is that Jackson was a strong misogynist. There are only oblique references made to this fact, but he clearly hated women. Of all of the themes, this struck me as one of the most chilling. The fact that Jackson was effeminate only serves to make him more of a Buffalo Bill type of character.

The MJ documentary begins with a disclaimer: “The following film contains explicit descriptions of sexual abuse that may be disturbing to viewers.” They should add a line: “And if you don’t, yeah, get that checked out.”

The two men who have come forward against MJ are James Safechuck and Wade Robson. (Ya gotta love those names, by the way. Straight out of Central Casting. They’re a little on the nose, huh? Jackson chucked their safety and robbed their son.) Safechuck was born in the States and Robson was born in Australia. (MJ really does like to go Down Under.)

Did he really have to rub it in and claim he has two?

In excruciating detail, the boys (now men) describe how Jackson destroyed their lives and their families’ lives. The Jackson Estate is alleging they’re only doing this for the money. OK, then how come there are no allegations against Prince? Or Bruce Springsteen? Or Tom Petty? They’re all global ’80s superstars with wealth.

Yet another defense is: “Well, there were other kids, including Macaulay Culkin and Corey Feldman, who went to Neverland and have no stories of abuse.” C’mon. That’s flimsy and you know it. First off, Jackson wouldn’t target fellow celebrities; they’re too empowered and have a network of powerful people looking after them. Predators prey on the weak. (And btw, Feldman finally came out to say he can no longer defend Jackson.) Moreover, just because Michael liked boys doesn’t mean he liked all boys. That’s like the lame concern straight men have about gay men: “I don’t want them hitting on me.” Relax, douche. With that kind of homophobia, you’re lucky if anybody hits on you.

“W here were the parents at?” — “The Way I Am,” Eminem

Criticism of the parents is justified. That said, you have to put yourselves in their place. They’re middle-class families with no extraordinary means… child abuse wasn’t as well known as it is today… and Michael Jackson was the biggest star in the world. The documentary shows the parents tried to stop it, but eventually, Jackson manipulated them and won. In acting class, we learned that comedy derives from a sane person in an insane world (Arrested Development) or an insane person in a sane world (Borat). A sane person in a sane world is a documentary. An insane person in an insane world is reality TV. The parents had entered an insane world. Was it strange that MJ asked to sleep in the same room with their kids? Yes, but Michael Jackson is calling you on your home line and coming over to your house to play. THIS WHOLE THING IS INSANE. How do you make decisions about what your kids can and cannot do at Neverland?

I saw firsthand how crazy celebrities can make us. As I entered adolescence, two men dominated my bedroom walls: Jordan (the other Michael) and Andre Agassi. I can’t remember exactly when I met him. OK, it was April 3, 1991. Seriously. I don’t even need to look it up. Spring Break. In Orlando, Florida, with my family. (Perhaps to search for my lost glove.) Perkins Restaurant. 8:30 am. There he was, with his girlfriend at the time, Wendy Stewart (not to be confused with Wendy Darling from Peter Pan). I got a picture with him, and I spent the next few hours lying down in the back of our van, staring up at the sky. I couldn’t believe I’d met my idol; I was the very definition of starstruck. Years later, I met him several more times, as I volunteered as a ballboy and Player Locker Room worker at the ATP Tournament in Cincinnati. I thought I was obsessed with him until I learned what a ballgirl did. Agassi threw up in a towel and she took it home. I’m not joking. How in the world could anybody carry somebody else’s vomit to her house? I’m telling you — celebrities make people do crazy things.

When We Both Had Hair.