I’ve been aware of the existence of pop singer Robbie Williams for about as long as he’s had a successful solo career and released his first album in 1997, after being booted from the boyband Take That. I’ve also been aware that he’s wanted to break through in a big way in the North American market for just as long, and it’s never happened. He certainly has his fans on this side of the pond (and I know a couple of them), but he’s just never been an original enough artist to really break through.
Which makes the existence of Better Man all the more of a curiosity. Certainly, in other parts of the world, the music-heavy biopic is going to do great business, but does anybody stateside really care about the meteoric rise, the self-made dramatic tumble, and the later resurgence of this British pop singer who seems to have borrowed his style from other artists?
The film follows Williams from his childhood, idolizing his singer father (Steve Pemberton), who in turn, worshipped Frank Sinatra; to his days with Take That, during which he became the group’s cliche bad boy while the band was racing up the charts and making no money in the process. He had a grandmother (Alison Steadman) who supported him unconditionally. He became romantically involved with Nicole Appleton (Raechelle Banno), a member of the pop group All Saints, and did lots of drugs while trying to impress members of Oasis and convince them he wasn’t some cookie-cutter artist.
If all of this sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because it’s essentially the instruction manual for music biopics from Rocket Man and Bohemian Rhapsody to Walk the Line and Ray. Some of these films are better than others, usually because the lead performance is something extraordinary, but with Better Man, Williams and director Michael Gracey (The Greatest Showman and the upcoming, live-action Tangled) has opted to cast Jonno Davies to play the musician, portraying him as a CG-animated anthropomorphic chimpanzee.
Williams has given different reasons for doing this: He’s always been a bit of a cheeky monkey; he feels like he’s spent most of his life dancing like a monkey for other people; or he’s always felt less evolved than other people. Honestly, I’m not buying any of it. It’s a gimmick to end all gimmicks, something to get people curious about an artist they might not otherwise care about. If you convinced me this film was part of the current Planet of the Apes universe, I might care a bit more, but it isn’t and I don’t.
Throughout the film, to symbolize Williams self-loathing, he spots versions of himself (well, his monkey self) at various ages out of the corners of his eyes or in the audiences of his shows, screaming and screeching at him that he’s no good. Meant to reflect him doubting himself at key moments of success, the bit gets old quickly, as does so much of what happens to Williams here, including abusing drugs, battles with managers and other collaborations, and other acts of self-destruction that we’ve seen dozens of times in films like these. The film inserts songs (more like a musical) where they best fit thematically, and these are some of the better sequences in the film. Williams is a gifted singer and performer, but instead of giving us examples of that in Better Man, we’re staring at a motion-capture performance and a replacement chimp.
The fact that none of the other performers comment on his appearance makes it all the more curious why the technique is used at all, and I found myself not even noticing it after about 10 minutes. The film culminates in two parts: one involves Williams performing at a supremely packed Knebworth concert with 125,000 supportive, vocal fans cheering him on; and a reconciliation performance between Williams and his father, singing “My Way” at a more intimate show at Royal Albert Hall. The moment feels inauthentic and unearned, and if it did happen in real life, this version of the event convinced me it didn’t.
The real Williams narrates the film, which are the only touches of the real person behind everything we’re watching. As for the music, which should be the deciding factor as to whether Better Man is worth seeing, I kept responding to the slick, polished, generic pop tunes with a shrug. I recognize the production value in the music but didn’t spot any genuine personal touches or artistry in most of the songs.
I certainly didn’t go into the film with any strong opinions about Williams as a person or performer, assuming the film would give me a portrait of a misunderstood artist and open up his music to me in ways it hadn’t been before. Instead, I get the rock star blueprint: excess, ego, and parental issues, all of which occasionally paralyze him with fear. Yawn.
Certain production numbers stood out, but more like music videos than musical numbers. This one just didn’t move me. It felt like everyone involved assumes the audience is going into Better Man with the understanding that Williams is worth having a film made about him, and that just isn’t the case.
The film is now playing in theaters.
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