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I can remember the mixed feelings I experienced as a teenager in 1997, buying Life Thru A Lens – my first Robbie Williams album – cautious it was too poppy to sit with my humble-but-growing CD collection of artists that would later be known as Britpop.
Yet, the album’s inherent cheekiness combined with moments of vulnerability made it something I was comfortable to include as part of the soundtrack to my adolescent life. I was reminded of these feelings watching Better Man (2024), director Michael Gracey’s new biopic musical that charts the story of the Williams’ journey to superstardom, along with his self-consciousness regarding where he fits as an artist and person.
The singer-songwriter is present throughout the film, albeit off-screen in the form of the narrator, guiding us through his history: growing up in Stoke-on-Trent, the son of divorced parents, his joining and dismissal from Take That, the reckless partying, his brief relationship with Nicole Appleton, and his own solo career. There is often a brutal honesty in these events, where no one (including Williams) comes off particularly well.
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Insecurity, the search for self-authenticity and the desire for acceptance are the three elements that fuel the film. “Robbie became a character, something I could hide behind,” says Williams the narrator, offering some rationale for the CGI monkey used to portray the artist. In case you’ve missed the publicity, Williams is “played” by actor Jonno Davies, but in a computerised twist, special visual effects present the performer as a CGI walking-talking-singing-dancing simian.
Williams as chimpanzee is a stylisation choice which seemingly goes unnoticed by other human characters in Better Man. The film is not attempting a sci-fi tone like War for the Planet of the Apes (2017), but to my surprise makes much better use of CGI precisely for that reason.
These visual effects serve to remind the viewer of the pure artifice of the music industry and how fabricated identity – particularly that of performers who have no direct control over it – can take its toll. According to Hollywood industry magazine Variety, William’s description of himself as a performing monkey is what inspired Gracey’s aesthetic choice.
However, I wonder if there is also some nod to the 2008 media reports of Williams walking around Los Angeles disguised in a gorilla suit after a three-month period of isolation. Like the suit, or even Damon Albarn’s virtual band, Gorillaz, the chimpanzee avatar provides a liminal role that keeps the performer present and absent at the same time. This is a theme that the film attempts to deal with in both content and form, emphasised through the performer’s off-screen narration.
This fragmented, entertainment-led construction of identity is also a continuation of themes explored in The Greatest Showman (2017), also directed by Gracey. Better Man, unlike Gracey’s earlier film however, strives (in the script at least) for grittier realism, with expletive language from the beginning. This is not a film for young fans, who might anyway only be tangentially aware of Williams through a different animal in Robin Shaw’s adaptation of The Tiger Who Came to Tea (2019), in which the singer provided the central song.
What I found particularly engaging about the film is the ordinariness and honesty of Williams. He doesn’t claim to be overly talented, but is rather someone who owes his initial fame to his cheeky-chappy persona, often presented as a coping mechanism for dealing with rejection.
The film indicates how his desire for attention is presented as the result of the singer’s sometime-absent father, Pete Conway (Steve Pemberton), a struggling performer who lives for the stage but never quite made it. The young simian is left to contemplate his father’s mantra “You’re either a somebody or a nobody”, which cues some tender moments with his grandmother Betty (Alison Steadman), presented as one of the most positive relationships in his early life.
Imagery of Williams and Betty at home together on the sofa, embraced in the television glow of The Two Ronnies gives the film a sense of nostalgia. But the unhealthy and unrealistic reverence that goes with global stardom is also presented as a damaging experience that precedes the star’s drug addiction and isolation.
These themes are something of a far cry from your average musical film. Characters spontaneously break into song (Take That or Robbie Williams tracks) in addition to scenes that focus on rehearsals and show performances, sharply reminding us of the constructed reality of pop-star life.
The film’s strength lies in portraying the veneer of stratospheric success that masks the human insecurity just below the surface, encapsulated by the CGI monkey modelled on the features of both Williams and actor Jonno Davies. For me, this was one of the best reasons to see it, but if you need more, there is a huge playlist of familiar tracks, including a spectacular high-octane montage of Rock DJ. Go see Better Man and let it entertain you.
Daniel O'Brien does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
