MICHAEL Jackson wants to be the biggest, most strange, most distant

and yet most accessible superstar in history. So, he enters (from who

knows where -- there are lots of traps in that stage) in a shower of

sparks and freezes.

Nothing happens for a very long time. Then he turns. Uproar. Nothing

happens. He takes off his shades. Freak out.

There are many, many pauses in this show. Songs stop and re-start

according to some quirky private metronome which tells Michael when to

hit the moment.

Between the pauses -- tons of lighting effects and some sharp

stagecraft. That trick of suddenly disappearing and re-appearing

elsewhere is an oldie but goodie. The dancing -- set pieces like

Thriller and Billie Jean was bang on, just like the videos (well, it was

on video, of course, for those who could barely see the stage -- more

than #20 to watch a big TV screen, eh? We are all crazy). The band was

as smooth as a CD.

Between the technology, Michael Jackson, with the voice from 43

million record collections. You know what he sounds like and that is

what we heard, in every detail. He said he loved us and he danced with

the one blonde stage invader before she was led gently away. That was


He flew out of the stadium on a rocket backpack, but I don't believe

it was really him. The man is priceless, they could never afford the