Neal Pollack is a fascinating man, a genuine Renaissance man for our times. Who knew this sublime writer was also a documentary filmmaker? I know I didn't.
If you watched the recent documentary on Michael Jackson, produced by the BBC and Martin Bashir, especially if you watched it twice (like I did, though I missed large segments each time), you will want to read the excerpts Pollack has published from his own film about Jackson, pulled from more than 10,000 hours of videotape.
Herewith what is called in the media business, a tease:
Pollack: So now, I have to ask you, about the plastic surgery: Are you some kind of freak or something?
Jackson: I'm pained that the world commits me to its prurient gaze as if I were a collectively-owned object. What is a face, after all, but a reflection of the soul? I urge people to look into my eyes and see themselves. They will behold a beautiful man, albeit one with acid burns and a nose that appears to have been sliced to bits by a carrot peeler.
Pollack: How profound.
Jackson: Yes. And I also wanted to add that I collect all the discarded skin after my surgeries.
Pollack: Is that so?
Jackson: Yes. And I eat it.
I wonder if I should call my lawyer now.
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