The setup of Better Man is conventional. Like Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman, this biopic from The Greatest Showman director Michael Gracey wades through the early hardships, romantic discord, and various controversies of a British pop star – in this case, Robbie Williams. Yet it’s also a jukebox musical with so much exuberant punch, pain, and ingenuity that it feels quite unlike any you might have seen before – thanks in large part to rendering its “Angels”-singing subject as a CGI chimpanzee in a world otherwise occupied by live-action homo sapiens. You might think, as I did, "Why the gimmick?" As Williams points out in an affable voiceover, the former teen idol bad boy has long regarded himself as a "less evolved" being. He even penned a song called "Me and My Monkey" to describe his coke-addled stage persona; the film spends a considerable amount of time acquainting us with this side of Williams during his rise to fame, first in the 1990s with boy band Take That and later in the ’00s as a solo artist.
The fact that we're seeing this digital chimp snort his way through live shows and band break-up meetings, rather than a human actor, certainly makes the bleaker elements of Better Man an easier pill to swallow. Yet there's nothing primitive about the emotions Jonno Davies and Asmara Feik are able to convey through the exquisite performance capture technology of the Wētā FX team (of Lord of the Rings fame). With Williams lending his singing vocals too, the result is a flawless characterization of a working-class boy done good, bad, ugly, and good again – complete with immaculate North-of-England accent work and vulgarity-filled humor, to boot.
That god-tier level of seamlessness is reflected everywhere in the film, especially in the evocative musical numbers. Williams' ballad "Feel" is set against the kitchen-sink backdrop of Stoke-on-Trent circa 1982, where young Robert (played by Feik and voiced by Carter J. Murphy) beautifully croons "I just want to feel real love" as he watches his flaky dad Peter (stunningly portrayed by Steve Pemberton) ditch the family for a life of cabaret. The number transitions into a revolving two-shot of a father-son duet Robert heartbreakingly imagines using the comb and velvet jacket Peter leaves behind.
This abandonment serves as the catalyst for Robbie's self-destruction, self-loathing, and desperate need to be famous, a core wound mended and broken through breathtaking musical sequences depicting his volatile split from Take That ("Come Undone") and bittersweet romance with All Saints star Nicole Appleton ("She's The One"). It culminates in a roaring rendition of "Let Me Entertain You" as Williams’ famous three-night stand at the 2003 Knebworth Festival becomes a hauntingly violent skirmish between the singer and thousands of his past selves. The camera zooms maniacally across the red-tinged battlefield as ash rains down and longswords, axes, and daggers clash.
No scene, however, delivers on the film's promise "to give you a right-f**king entertaining" like when London's Regent Street becomes the stage for a mind-blowing, “Rock DJ”-soundtracked tour through the musical history of Take That. The synchronization of so many deep-cut aesthetic choices – from the rain-soaked “Back for Good” video to the matching blue teddy-boy suits they wore to the 1994 Brit Awards – with dynamic choreography and supremely polished editing, ensure this sequence sings in perfect harmony.
These musical numbers push the story forward in rip-roaring fashion, yet the script is as much rooted in Williams’ familial ties and Peter popping in and out of his son's life. As Robert's grandmother, Alison Steadman breathes gorgeous light and pathos into her hometown scenes with Davies. Pemberton might be best known for the dark comedy series The League of Gentleman, but the dramatic verve he imbues Peter with proves poignant and devastating throughout Better Man – especially during a quietly stirring final act at the Royal Albert Hall.
With Better Man, Gracey has transformed Williams' life, music, and demons into a thunderous cinematic spectacle. But its ultimate success is down to its sensitive ability to remain grounded in the emotional reality of a man striving to find love for the little lad who used to watch Frank Sinatra and The Two Ronnies with his nan on the telly. That it does so while that man and lad are both portrayed by an ape made of 1s and 0s is all the more incredible.
