The Fall
The Fall
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ShareWhen it no longer seemed Jackson could channel P.T. Barnum, he lost the steadiness and control of his pride shield. Notably, the myth began to break when hints of darker intentions opposing those original glorious ones surfaced. The downfall is partially the tragic hero’s fault when he exercises his free will. Therein Jackson began to question, “Why did people turn against me?”, “Why do people hate me?”, “What did I do wrong?” He viewed himself as a victim, sliding slowly down the arc, as he became exceedingly perplexed about the public’s reversed view. Reader polls showed low confidence in Jackson at this point. In Jackson’s life, he fell with the equal intensity of his rise. As is the case with tragic figures, redemption usually comes in the next phase. And still Jackson had “hoped for some redemption” (Taraborrelli, p. 381).
As the myth began to crack, Jackson made a television appearance in December of 1993 to refute the accusations, calling them “disgusting and totally false (Nick Madigan, “Michael Jackson’s Ranch Is Raided in Criminal Inquiry”, New York Times, 13 Nov 2003). He confronted the public, saying, “Don’t treat me like a criminal because I am innocent” (Madigan). Clearly, he made these denouncements in efforts to protect his dignity; he wanted to reverse his direction on the arc, to find the adulation once bestowed upon him.
Mythologized into the higher sanctum saved for victim souls of genius, he entered the same place as Joplin, Hendrix, Morrison, Gaye, and other artists before him; he danced in the land where fantasy and reality are a blurred collage. He had become his goal: the best, the biggest entertainer in history. He also became a mythical figure in the vein of artists from Elvis, Lennon, Cobain, and Shakur—deemed “the gods of rock, pop [who] often leave our world as tragic, frail humans” (John Petkovic, “The gods of rock, pop often leave our world as tragic, frail humans”, The Plain Dealer, 28 June 2009, p. E2). Too many rock artists have died too young from drug- or alcohol-related deaths. They seemed to view their artistic expression on the world stage as a drug in itself. Unfortunately,
the allure of fame is often deceiving. Not just to those who pursue it, but to fans who see mortals as gods. We see fame and money as the cure-all, until the famous die a tragic death (Petkovic, E2).
These “gods of rock [and] pop” rise and fall as if in Greek tragedies.
Jackson dealt with the forces of media backlash and legal accusations until they revealed him a broken man. When the price for fame became too high, Jackson could no longer pay monetarily to stave off the wicked forces, so he paid in blood. Left bereft, he was almost down until he, like many tragic figures before him, tried again and again to climb up the arc by licking his wounds, marrying twice, becoming father to three children, and later, leading rehearsals for a 50-concert tour in London. All this underscored by his continual emotional and physical turmoil. Though he strove to once more reach a quixotic level, his broken self disallowed it.
The Redemption
Whether they achieve redemption or not, a hero’s tragic downfall is not supposed to be in vain. Redemption is moving from unawareness to awareness, to realize destiny by one’s own actions, then saving oneself and assisting others. Jackson was not a redeemer in his own life. He did, however, support others in strong charitable fashion (ex. Heal the World Foundation event). As noted during the one-year anniversary of his death, his fans are the redeemers in Jackson’s spectacular journey, keeping his music and legacy alive. Jackson’s pride, success, reversal of image, and death equated to one extraordinary and difficult expedition for this true artist. From a difficult journey comes enlightenment, but only if the tragic hero steps down from the myth and lives a nonfiction life. If not, death is eminent. The real tragedy here is that he could not save himself.
Jackson had reached a zenith with Thriller and his moonwalk on the Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, and Forever special in 1983, a pivotal point deemed “perfect” in its execution. Jackson continually strove to become an ideal musician and man. He himself confirmed, “I do want to be perfect. I look in the mirror, and I just want to change and be better” (Taraborrelli, p. 347). But there clearly existed a divide between his desired, unrealistic outcome and his limited power to achieve it. This was especially evident in his final rehearsals when he over-indulged in drugs to will his body, his instrument, to achieve the “final tour” in London. His hubris, which created this schism, had taken him up and down the arc. When one experiences that famous stratosphere, it is in itself a drug one wants to keep using. But, as the Greeks realized, mortals are mortals, and tragic protagonists such as Michael Jackson are mortal. In this way, maybe he was a more of a common man than a king. Though Jackson fought “to maintain his place in the pop myth hierarchy” (Jefferson, p. 92), he faltered just as other tragic artists had before him. He had learned the difficult lesson: we cannot exist in myths indefinitely.
As audience members, each phase of a tragic figure’s journey engenders our pity, our perplexity, our pardon. We experience the catharsis, releasing pent-up emotions of sympathy and dread. The tortured soul in Jackson evoked our pity; his death evoked our fear. Believing catharsis was, in fact, a healthy experience, the Greeks celebrated theater as a common public event. With the advent of television and the Internet, we now have the stage in our private homes, but it is the theater of tragedy just the same.
In the end, the tragic “protagonist must face the world alone, unaccomodated, and kick against his fate” (Edwin Wilson, “Greek Drama Notes”, 12 Jan 2009). Jackson did not escape his nemesis, but he did insist upon accommodating fate on his own terms. Tragedies such as Jackson’s do offer a redemptive measure: we can reaffirm life is worth living, despite suffering. We affirm that Jackson was not “one of us” and appreciate his music. Since he himself seemed to die from his unyielding quest toward the mythic, perhaps Jackson’s larger mission was to remind us that perfectionism, try as we might to achieve, is itself a myth. And that, in itself, is not a myth.
