In multiplexes from Jakarta to Los Angeles, a familiar silhouette flickered in the dark: fans arriving in single white gloves, black fedoras, and red leather jackets, singing along to songs they had known for decades. The official social media account for the film later thanked those who “bought a ticket, sang the songs, came to the cinema in costume and returned again and again.” That ritual of return, more than any critical verdict, turned Michael, Antoine Fuqua’s portrait of the pop star’s early years, into a box-office phenomenon.

After twelve weeks in cinemas, the Lionsgate and Universal release has grossed $1.001 billion globally, according to industry tracking. North American receipts stand at $371.8 million, while international markets contributed $629.8 million. The figure makes it the first biographical film to enter the billion-dollar club, eclipsing the $911 million haul of Bohemian Rhapsody and the $975 million earned by Oppenheimer. It is also the studio’s highest-grossing picture, surpassing The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, and only the second film of 2026 to reach the milestone, after The Super Mario Galaxy Movie.

The path to that number was not smooth. Before its April release, the production weathered script rewrites and the excision of scenes touching on long-contested allegations against Jackson. Critics offered a mixed response, yet audiences ignored the noise. The film opened to $97 million domestically and $217 million worldwide, breaking the record for a music biopic debut set by Straight Outta Compton. Fuqua noted that the billion-dollar threshold was “a moment that touches the depths of the soul,” attributing the result to the dedication of the cast, crew, and partners. Japanese and Russian markets proved especially fervent, the director said, helping sustain momentum through the northern summer.

While Michael sailed past records, other big-budget offerings encountered headwinds. Disney’s live-action Moana, produced for $250 million, opened to a muted $95 million globally and, according to North American analysts, risks a loss of up to $100 million during its theatrical run. The tepid reception, coming only a decade after the animated original and two years after an animated sequel, suggested that nostalgia alone could not guarantee a return to the studio’s remake heyday. Separately, a debate over authenticity and representation flared around Christopher Nolan’s forthcoming adaptation of The Odyssey. Entertainment trade coverage celebrated Moana’s commitment to Polynesian cultural consultants and the involvement of Pacific Islander creatives, while the same outlets were accused of dismissing criticism of Nolan’s casting choices—which include a transgender actor as a Greek soldier and a Kenyan-Mexican actress as Helen of Troy—as irrelevant. Viewed from Los Angeles, the contrasting reactions underscored an industry still wrestling with when and for whom representation is deemed essential.

Jaafar Jackson, the singer’s nephew, made his screen debut in the title role, spending months training to replicate his uncle’s stage movements and vocal inflections. With a sequel already in development to explore later chapters of Jackson’s life, the final image of this first instalment is not a closing credit but an open door: the King of Pop, frozen at the apex of his ascent, the rest of the story waiting in the wings.