MICHAEL? WHO’S MICHAEL?

WHEN DON VITO CORLEONE wakes up in hospital after an attempt on his life has left him near to death, Marlon Brando manages to condense years of practising method acting, distilling his expression and reducing his mannerisms to a little as possible, all brought to its head in the phrase “Michael. Where’s Michael?” When no Michael is forthcoming, Corleone and Brando wave away the entourage with a dismissive back of the hand swat and a mumble.

IN SOME CONTRAST, “Godfather” Joe Jackson, the octogenarian head of a clan with almost as much power as the mythical and real Corleones may have had in the fifties in New York City, was also expected to pronounce his justice on his feelings about his lost son when he appeared at the gates of the family’s mansion in Encino yesterday.

THE ASSEMBLED MEDIA obviously expected Jackson to say something touching that could go down as an obituary and perhaps even be set in stone. Bafflingly, Jackson Sr. stated “I wish Michael were here to see all this”, suggesting that he was not quite sure that “this” was “there” because Michael wasn’t.

BUT THE “LOWLIGHT” (as folks say now) of his “press conference” was when he introduced some grinning half-wit with whom he told us he had formed a new company and that a DVD would be out next week, and that Blu-Ray was the format of the future. He may have later added that he was “grieving on the inside”, but this lack of sensitivity suggests that he chose the wrong profession all those years ago: if he had gone into politics he would have made it to the top anywhere.