Remembering Michael Jackson With the Aching, Inspiring Will You Be There?

I went to the movies with my friend Libbie today, and on our way out of the theater, we overhead a woman remark to her friend that she'd heard Michael Jackson had died. I was startled, but as I'd heard a rumor to that effect last week, I thought perhaps it was just idle gossip generated by a photo of him looking ill. Nonetheless, we tuned into the news on the radio, and when the hour opened with the news of Jackson's death, I was stunned. He was only 50 years old, with a massive run of concerts coming up in London and occasional rumors of a new album in the making.

Of course, the man once dubbed the King of Pop has been quite reclusive of late, keeping out of the spotlight as much as possible in the wake of painful accusations and litigations. While I'm in no position to say whether his recent reputation as a child molester had any merit, I look at his troubled life and his commitment to humanitarian efforts, and all I can see is an extremely talented man with a great deal of love in his heart who felt he'd missed out on childhood and who never learned how to interact normally with the rest of society. I think Michael Jackson was a sad and beautiful man, and I'm sorry that it seemed he was rarely able to find true peace in his life.

While Jackson tore up the Billboard charts with innovative pop numbers whose videos illustrated his impressive dancing skills, my favorite songs of his, going all the way back to his early days with the Jackson 5, have always tended toward the reflective. I'll Be There and Ben always tug at my heartstrings, and though I admit to being amused by parodies poking fun at his grandiose awareness-raising anthems, that doesn't make me any less moved by the likes of We Are the World and Heal the World. When I think of Michael Jackson, I think first and foremost I will remember a man who made a genuine effort to better humanity. He knew the power he wielded as a pop star, and for the most part, he used it well.

If I had to choose a favorite among all of his songs, I would almost certainly have to go with Will You Be There?, the theme song from the 1993 movie Free Willy, about a hard-on-his-luck street kid who befriends an imperiled orca. It was my favorite movie of the year, and whenever I heard the swelling chorus of the accompanying song, I felt inspired. In fact, I had a hard time thinking of it as a pop song; it sounded more like gospel music to me, a plea for friendship and understanding from such a deep place in the soul, it felt more like an impassioned prayer, with an addressee far more transcendent than even the most magnificent whale. That jubilant choir and Biblical imagery did nothing to dissuade me from that notion. I still find listening to it a spiritually stimulating experience. Just as Ben is about more than just a rat, Will You Be There? is about more than just a whale, or at least it can be.

This is a song that fits in well with Jackson's other epic efforts. Though the spotlight remains on him, it's the choir that brings such majestic depth to the song, making clapping, dancing and singing along hard to resist. And as an encapsulation of the movie, the official video is so perfect that it almost renders watching the film itself unnecessary. I love the transitions between his free-spirited twirling and Willy's exuberant splashing, his synchronized hand motions and Jesse's nonverbal signals to his enormous friend.

Meanwhile, the angst-ridden outbursts as the choir moves into the foreground gel perfectly with the frustrations of boy and whale alike. I remember pounding out the chords to this one in my living room; the piano-laden introduction is one of my all-time favorite song openings. I also love the driving percussion, in the presence of which I simply can't sit still. And the vulnerability in Jackson's voice as he recites the concluding poem over the fading music is indicative of a man who, despite the adulation of millions, was filled with loneliness himself. This song has always struck me as very autobiographical, which makes it all the more poignant.

I suspect I'll be listening to this song quite a bit over the next few days. Though we didn't see much of him in the last few years, I had hoped for the possibility of a comeback; I'm certain that he still had brilliant music to share, but even if he never would have written another song, his sudden, early death was a tragedy. Thankfully, he left an extensive legacy. Thanks for the music, Michael, and the inspiration. You will be missed.