I grew up with Michael Jackson. I pre-teeny-bopped to "ABC," school danced to "Stop, The Love You Save May Be Your Own," and ran the make-out bases to "I'll Be There." I defy anyone to watch old footage of the Jackson 5 and not notice there was something special about that kid. His sparkle outshined his older brothers', moving them very quickly into a back-up group for his brilliance.

And Michael was my first black crush. While older hippies like my brother were already moving into multi-racial relations, sometimes as a mark of rebellion, I was pining over Michael, not even noticing that his skin was a different color than my own. The insignificance of his race is something that ran throughout his career, and regardless of whether he was trying to make himself white, or he had some genetic disorder, it doesn't matter. When my friends and I thought of Michael Jackson, we didn't consider the color of his skin - which is an amazing accomplishment in itself, similar to what Mark Twain's "Huckleberry Finn" did for race relations near the turn of the last century. Jackson's "Billie Jean" video shifted MTV's predominately white scales forever. As he says in "Black or White," "I'm not gonna spend my life being a color." Laws try to put cultural actions into effect; the arts can launch a renaissance.

The new concert film "This Is It" doesn't delve into the phenomenon of Michael Jackson. It adheres only to the making of what was to be his last run of concerts; his final curtain call as he penned it. Except for a few flashbacks of the Jackson 5 in what was perhaps to be a medley of songs, and some CGI - including a brilliantly edited portion of "This Gun for Hire" pitting MJ against Bogey - the film sticks to rehearsals, some quite technical, flittering a bit around the experiences of the dancers and other cast and crew members. (You think "So You Think You Can Dance" auditions are brutal? Check out what these people had to go through.) The balance of all these components is commendable. You get enough knowledge so that you get a glimmer of what goes into making shows of this caliber, yet don't feel cheated about MJ's lack of screen time.

And perhaps that is one of those ironic little treasures that came out of Jackson's unexpected death this summer. Being someone who couldn't possibly afford a ticket to one of his concerts (at least, not able to afford a seat that would leave him looking bigger than a stick figure), the movie is like not only getting front-row-center seats, but also a backstage pass. And that's pretty awesome.

What is perhaps the most cherished and memorable gift of this film is the look into Jackson as a person. It may not be a glimpse into his private life, but the footage here is much removed from his public persona. He spoke in his familiar soft voice, but what was impressive is how he spoke to others: directly, attentively, inclusively, and always kindly. It occurred to me that in all the press I've ever seen of him, he was never mean, never raised his voice, even in the midst of all the various accusations that dotted the last decade or so of his life. Just thinking about that gives me pause. And the language that he used was so sensual: "sizzle," "nourish," "with love," "l-o-v-e." Per "This Is It," Michael Jackson wasn't so much a perfectionist as he was someone who knew exactly what he wanted to express.

We can argue about whether he got funny with little boys, bleached his skin, endangered his children - many things. But what we can't argue about is his influence on us as he segued - rather seamlessly - from child star to disco dandy to the King of Pop. Throughout his career he managed to win over multiple generations, as was attested by the theater audience, which included people from 8 to 80.

I remember watching Jackson perform "Billie Jean" for the "Motown 25" special, and his moonwalk debut. I jumped up from the couch and screamed. Really. And so did the man sitting next to me. There were a few times in the theater when I felt just like that again. And there were many times during the movie when the cast and crew did that too. It was wonderful to see Jackson turn a rehearsal into a venue where the other players were simply in ecstatic awe. Applause in a movie theater seems a bit ridiculous, but we all clapped. And only a handful left before the credits ran and the screen went dark. I highly recommend staying until the very end. Goodbye, Michael. Thanks for leaving us all the memories.