Kevin Mazur/ Sony Pictures
Michael Jackson performing in the documentary "This Is It."

Death returned Michael Jackson’s humanity, and in a curious, tentative way so too does “Michael Jackson’s This Is It,” a rushed and ragged monument to the man, his work and the commercial interests of those he left behind. At once a greatest-hits compendium and a suggestive glance at what might have been, the movie — which had its premiere Tuesday and opened Wednesday on a staggering 18,000 screens worldwide — has been so nakedly designed to serve so many different agendas that it seemed unlikely anything would be left for Mr. Jackson’s fans beyond the sheer spectacle of such colossal posthumous exploitation.

Yet something remains here, though it’s hard to know whether it’s the ghost or our love, perhaps both. Whatever the case, the on-screen results are weird and watchable, by turns frustrating and entertaining, and predictably a little morbid. Directed by Kenny Ortega, the movie has been stitched together from more than 100 hours of taped rehearsals for the 50-concert comeback tour that he and Mr. Jackson were creating together when the singer died in June after a drug overdose. Mr. Ortega, working with four editors (Don Brochu, Brandon Key, Tim Patterson and Kevin Stitt), has punched the material into classic behind-the-scenes documentary shape, complete with teary testimonials from the show’s demonstrably wowed dancers, the occasional impromptu moment and plenty of canned sentiment.

The movie opens, after a bit of scrolling text, on a worshipful note, with a number of the concert dancers weeping and excitedly talking into the camera about the gig and their love for (the still living) Mr. Jackson. It’s an easy way into the material, but it’s also smart, partly because these tears help prime the audience’s pump. The testimonials add to the overall deification that comes with any larger-than-life star production. But more important, they instantly invest some authentic feeling into a project (product) that has seemed devoid of soul from the minute it was announced. With their wet cheeks and halting words, these visibly moved young men and women are the sobbing, yearning embodiment of fan love.

It doesn’t take long to remember why Mr. Jackson inspired that love. First, though, you have to wade through a somewhat baffling montage featuring Lady Diana, Mother Teresa and President Obama, among others, a preposterous lineup that serves as something of a warm-up act for Mr. Jackson himself, who initially appears among an excited throng to announce the concert that never was. Happily, the moviemakers come down to earth (or as much as might be expected with Mr. Jackson onboard) for the subsequent rehearsals, which are regularly interspersed, or more rightly padded, with interview snippets featuring musicians, singers, choreographers and costume designers. Mr. Jackson’s family members are conspicuous by their absence, his brothers, father and mother invoked in name only.

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