Better Man

Robert Williams claimed he hated the nickname Robbie that was bestowed upon him as a teenage heartthrob. The biopic Better Man focuses on the inner conflict between Robert and Robbie as they coexist for decades within the head of the British pop star.

That head, as well as his body, is depicted as an anthropomorphic monkey for the duration of the film — a bewildering decision that starts as an audacious gimmick before its awkwardness eventually feels charming, kind of like the character itself.

Considering his bad-boy reputation, it might feel like a transparent attempt at image rehabilitation. Yet the result is a visually thrilling and emotionally uplifting crowd-pleaser about an artist finding his voice, charting superstardom and rock-bottom and all the highs and lows in between.

Williams himself provides the voice, with actor Jonno Davies handling the CGI motion-capture responsibilities of the lead role, as we watch Robbie experiencing a troubled upbringing that includes becoming the youngest member of 1990s Manchester boy band Take That.

“I don’t want to be a nobody,” he explains, despite crippling insecurities that stand in the way of that goal while also making him more relatable. He’s a big dreamer, both alluring and abrasive, and his biggest obstacle to fame and fortune is himself.

As he embarks on a solo career, Robbie confronts those vices while also navigating turbulent relationships with his overbearing father (Steve Pemberton), his grandmother (Alison Steadman), his manager (Damon Herriman), and his starlet girlfriend (Raechelle Banno).

Aside from its angst-ridden brooding, the film maintains energy as a playful pop musical. The production numbers and montages are staged with considerable flair by director Michael Gracey (The Greatest Showman).

The screenplay suffers from some conventional biopic trappings, from the rags-to-riches narrative trajectory to Robbie’s internal grappling with addiction and the perils of fame. However, the film also digs beneath its stylish surface of fleeting pop earworms and tabloid headlines.

It remains emotionally grounded, generating hard-earned sympathy as he confronts his demons. In a way, the simian conceit symbolizes the uniqueness in ability and personality that Robbie struggled to embrace and express.

His music becomes a vessel for catharsis and self-expression, both inextricable and secondary to Robbie’s life story. As it builds to a stirring finale, we learn that the title of Better Man is not boastful but an aspirational refrain.

Rated R, 135 minutes.