You could go back to any point in the past where celebrity culture has existed and find public figures who say that being famous is akin to living as a circus animal, being the subject of constant gawking and attention to the point where having a single moment of one’s own is beyond impossible. Few people have understood the perils of fame more clearly than Robbie Williams, who would be the first to admit that he always yearned to be a world-renowned entertainer, looking towards the likes of Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. as his inspirations, but yet led a life that very few of us would envy, based on how he was perceived by the public, who were not able to overlook the fact that he was nothing more than a man with his shortcomings, and essentially put him through the wringer for decades, leading to his reputation undergoing many changes over the years. Despite all of this, Williams proved that he is, above everything else, extremely resilient and possesses a tenacity that we don’t find in many contemporary performers. He is a born showman, and his manifesto has always been extremely simple: he wants to entertain audiences and make them feel the same sense of wonder and joy that he felt as a young man in his working-class home while watching icons of yesteryear on television. His story is fascinating, and whether hearing it firsthand through his wonderful memoirs Feel and Reveal or encountering it through bits and pieces of his personal life that he has shared over the years, it is clear that he has led an intriguing life. However, much like any world-famous musician, he was subjected to the inevitable biopic, which seems to be a rite of passage for any entertainer worth our time since Hollywood seems to believe a musician is only worthwhile once they have their story committed to film. The task to tell his story fell to Michael Gracey, who has had quite an unorthodox career so far and who proved to be quite a peculiar choice for such a film – but Better Man proves to have enough ambition for us to overlook some of the more bewildering choices, taking Williams’ life story and turning it into a mostly riveting, but still quite traditional, work that comments on his legacy and celebrates his talent, doing so through some odd but captivating techniques.

Biographical films about musicians usually take two forms – those which are made with the involvement of the subject (or their estate or closest collaborators in the case of them being deceased) and those which are made entirely on their own, often without being approved by those closest to the people being depicted. Better Man takes this a step further – Williams wasn’t merely a consultant on the film, nor was he just there to oversee the production to ensure they were paying sufficient tribute to his story. Instead, he took on the challenge of essentially playing himself, narrating the film and being the central focus, therefore dispelling any allegations that this would be an exploitative investigation into his storied life and career and essentially putting the control into his hands, something that many of these musicians are not able to have when their lives are displayed on screen. Naturally, neither Williams nor Gracey is known to follow conventions, so instead of doing what we would expect, they defy all logic and take a gamble, primarily by portraying Williams as a monkey throughout the film, making use of groundbreaking CGI technology to transform actor Jonno Davies (who served as the physical version of Williams) into an anthropomorphic creature that serves to reflect Williams’ feeling of being a wild animal in a world full of people whom he was sent to amuse and entertain, as well as leaning into his distinctly cheeky sense of humour, which has been well-documented over the years. The precise reasoning for taking such an approach has been woven into various pieces of publicity, where Gracey and Williams discuss how they chose to take such an unorthodox path to tell the story based on the aforementioned tendency of performers to be viewed as nothing more than animals designated to enthral onlookers, who are invited to observe them, without any regard for privacy or personal space. It’s a very personal work and one that meant a lot to Williams, who takes the opportunity to tell his story, making Better Man much more valuable than the majority of recent biopics on iconic performers, which often tend to border on exploitative and disrespectful.

Better Man is a film in which conventions are not meant to be followed, so it is understandable why Gracey was not only recruited to direct the film but essentially developed it from the very start, working closely with Williams to create what they hoped would be a new approach to the musical biography sub-genre, which is coincidentally one in which the fewest risks are taken, and as a result it is difficult to find works that feel like they have a point of view, or anything of value lingering beneath the surface. Their intentions were two-fold: tell the story and have fun in the process. Everyone involved was enjoying the process, including the subject himself, who is relishing in the act of reminiscing on his journey, which is not an easy process but one that is nonetheless quite cathartic when done well. Interestingly, Better Man manages to be definitive through actively avoiding traditions, and while it is structured in the conventional “cradle-to-grave” style, where an artist’s entire life (or at least up until the present point, in the case of those who are still living) is covered, starting from their formative years and tracking nearly every triumph and failure in vivid detail, the film does manage to subvert the obvious where it mattered the most, leading to a film that was focused on being entertaining before it was informative. Gracey may have only directed one narrative film before this (the extremely audacious The Greatest Showman, a film that has developed something of a cult following in subsequent years), but he has a very particular vision that may not be fitting for a lot of more conventional works but benefits this growing movement towards maximalist cinema, where logic is optional, and all rational thought is abandoned in favour of bold, off-the-wall filmmaking, both conceptually and in execution. These are admirable qualities and seem oddly fitting in a film about someone who has consistently marched to the beat of his drum, making these efforts all the more enticing from a distance.

Unfortunately, Better Man is a film that may be entertaining at first, but it doesn’t take long for its shortcomings to become clear. Primarily, we find that the novelty of the film wears off after a while – the initial delight we get at seeing such a unique approach quickly fades, especially once it becomes clear nothing is going to be done with it and that we are eventually just going to be forced to watch a CGI primate masquerade across the screen without anything particularly interesting being done beyond the initial commentary on fame, which does not hold nearly enough weight to be the centrepiece of a film that runs a bewilderingly excessive 135 minutes, which is exorbitant for any musical biopic, especially one that doesn’t have all that much to say outside of exploring Williams’ trials and tribulations over the years. A concept like this is only effective if it can be sustained, and we start to grow bored after a while, especially when we realise this film is structured like any other entry into this genre, just with one major addition in the form of the protagonist and how he is rendered, which eventually loses its quirkiness as our enthusiasm erodes. As the inherent charm peters out, we start to see just how hollow this film is – I’d never advocate for a film to take artistic liberties to the point of becoming inauthentic (and the degree to which Gracey and Williams were committed to being genuine in how it explores the latter’s life is certainly merit), but it just doesn’t feel like it has enough material to justify such an approach, which would have worked much better had a more solid set of themes been implemented, beyond a one-sentence synopsis that seems hilarious in theory, but which quickly loses its impact once we discover that it is quite one-dimensional in various ways, never reaching the heights that we expected based on its fervent audacity and desire to be different. Ultimately, Better Man is structured as a series of electrifying moments (such as the wonderful “Rock DJ” sequence, one of the few truly great aspects of the film), and where the connective tissue that surrounds them lacks any cohesion or consistency, feeling quite limited at the best of times.

It is certainly difficult not to admire the ambition behind Better Man, a film that has its merits but ultimately doesn’t feel like it is accomplishing anything all that revolutionary once we move past the initial surprise and are confronted with two hours of meandering, conventional filmmaking that would be considered the very epitome of run-of-the-mill biographical storytelling had it not been for the one element that differentiates it from all the others. It’s nothing, particularly daring once we look past the unique decision associated with the protagonist and how he is rendered on screen, and it often falls into the same tropes usually associated with the genre, struggling to rise above the conventions and instead feeling quite one-dimensional and limited in its vision. Williams is eternally likeable, and it is not difficult to find him effortlessly charismatic to the point where even those who aren’t enamoured with his music will be drawn to his magnetic personality – and in many ways, the choice of protagonist here proves to be something of an obstacle, since while we hear all of Williams’ most famous hits, we lose the personal touch that would come with having him physically present. It’s a peculiar approach that has its charms, but it is ultimately not enough to sustain the film, which is unfortunate considering this is one of the rare musical biopics in which there is a constant stream of respect and affection for the subject, refusing to pander to the obvious tabloid fodder or playing into his flaws in such a way that it feels gauche. It is a lovely ode to Williams and his tenacity, but it proves to be quite shallow beneath the surface, focusing on the surface-level aspects rather than diving all that deep into his mind, with very few genuine insights being shared, leading to an audacious but ultimately dull production that loses its charm once we notice there isn’t all that much beyond the initial novelty. Fun in parts but mostly driven by a stream of conventions that are increasingly difficult to embrace, Better Man is far from perfect, but unlike its equally flawed protagonist, we don’t feel compelled to give it the benefit of the doubt and instead just patiently wait to see if anything particularly daring will come out of this unique premise, with the final answer being far less consistent than we may hope.