Better Biopic? Better Man
When is a better man not a better man? When he’s Robbie Williams aka a CGI Chimp or deeply ironic performing monkey (as portrayed by Jonno Davies and Carter J. Murphy). Not your typical rags to riches starry biopic, somehow this really works as we see both the dazzle and the tarnish of fame and life. Nor is the material afraid of showing the difficult, obnoxious or selfish sides of their star. Though the Chimp may give you a moment of ‘whaaaat?’, you then forget about it and enjoy the ride, Let Williams entertain you — for he really does here!
Loved, loved, loved the choreography in this movie, and how Take That’s/Williams’ songs are interwoven through the script to drive the action forward. And not in a clunky greatest hits way. Though you may want to shut your eyes at some of Take That’s bum flashing outfits, the energy of the ‘90’s to ‘00’s is all there and a hint of Cool Britannia swagger. (I got very excited at seeing a metallic chain mail spaghetti strapped dress with a drooped neckline out in the wild again and all those handkerchief and cropped tops!)
Excruciatingly, Williams is filled with self-hatred — he literally fights increasingly alarming and loudly critical versions of himself. He knows he’s different — classically he says that ‘he was born with jazz hands, which gave his Mum some issues’. His Dad Peter (Steve Pemberton) is distracted by the classic Rat Pack crooners and dreams of fame, which he pursues as a literal family lounge lizard and in social/working men’s clubs. Eventually his desire to be someone causes him to abandon his family. This dream of fame and ambition, of being someone and making it, imprints itself on Robbie — and he gets his moment in the school production of the Pirates of Penzance.
In the opposing corner is Robbie’s Mum (Kate Mulvany), who wants him to work hard and ace his exams at school, whilst trying to keep the family together — and care for Robbie’s Nan. And terrible destructive hateful stage fright and self-criticism, which increases over time from an individual to a whole crowd. As Williams’ voiceover lets us know, he had clinical depression — but didn’t know it. Increasingly he tries to manage and mis-manage this, through drink, drugs, screaming girls, and more and more and bigger and bigger gigs — and a lot of look at me media fakery moments. A more healthy outlet is in his songwriting, but even this is a battle — to be heard, to be taken seriously, to get his songs out there.
School doesn’t work for him, nor does he work for school — a cringe worthy Careers interview sums all of this up. (Which is a really sad moment for all the decent hard-working school and college Careers counsellors out there who only ever see terrible onscreen representation). Pushing the full force of his cheeky charm and a wink at a Take That recruitment interview, Robert somehow gets in and becomes Robbie, complete with a fake persona. Targeted at a gay club market to begin with, their manager Nigel Martin Smith (wonderful Damon Herriman in full smarm mode) soon realises that roomfuls of screaming girls will guarantee them more cash and switches tactics, along with a strict list of behaviours. Not that Robbie follows any of these and somehow gets them a record deal, giving a whole new meaning to ‘it only takes a minute girl’. It’s all really risky and it just doesn’t stop, Williams destructive self-criticism and fear of performing escalating as his fame does.
Beautifully tearing up a Christmassy Regents Street in the joy of their first success, a wonderful La La Land-esque dance sequence flows into a meeting with his first serious girlfriend Nicole Appleton (Raechelle Banno). Yes, it’s All Saints time! At the same time tensions grow between the Take That members (there can only be one singer-songwriter and that is Gary Barlow!) and debating if they even want Williams in the band when he’s off the wall — and dangerously off his head much of the time. Williams very much feels this second league status in the group. But in a snippy writing relationship with Guy Chambers (Tom Budge), Williams’ songs start to take shape and, hurrah, he begins to forge his own career. However, he has an uneasy relationship being with a successful, award-winning in her own right singer-songwriter, and being considered as a serious singer-songwriter like the Gallaghers.
In all of this, you see how isolated he is. Those around him see him intoxicated and drugged up — and no-one says anything. No-one says are ‘are you ok?’ or ‘do you need help?’ Nor is there really any support put in place for experiencing massive fame very young. We frequently see the glaring overwhelm of media crowds, screaming fans and cameras. The only ones really challenging him at any point are his Mum and Nicole Appleton. Crucially we see the impact (day in, day out) of living with someone with addiction issues — Nicole has to come back to the chaos, vomit, hurt and betrayal. A wanted but lost child is hinted at, an episode which is never really discussed or mentioned again, except in lyrics — and the couple are dealing with this alone. Nicole leaves and finds a happier relationship with a Gallagher brother. At the same time, all Williams really seems to want is real love, to be seen for himself. And it’s his Nan Betty (portrayed by the excellent Alison Steadman, everyone’s dream Nan) who gives him unconditional love, praise, encouragement and acceptance. However, as Williams pens himself ‘he can never get enough’.
Finally, having achieved massive fame (as big as Oasis and twinning with a Knebworth gig) — tho the Gallaghers (Chris Gun and Leo Harvey-Elledge) come across as fairly vile here and make you want to become a Blur fan asap — Williams still can’t enjoy what he has. He destroys his luxurious countryside mansion, lives in a tip and seemingly tries to destroy himself. This is the final wake up call — and through rehabilitation and seeking forgiveness and reconciliation, begins to put some healthier relationships in place. He also learns to listen to his childhood friend Nate (Frazer Hadfield) who has been going through his own awful life issues. Overall, he seemingly learns to accept himself as a crooner, an entertainer — not a Gallagher replicant, a little lower than Gary Barlow or a mini-version of his Dad. And rather than killing the negative versions of himself, to reconcile with kindness. And drive a rather lovely DB5!
Along with the Aston, enjoy the ride, for there’s a lot to love in here about working class and Midlands culture. Also enjoy a mobile phone free universe, where people have to wait in for calls on a landline! And people listen and dance at gigs not viewing and recording everything through a small shiny screen. Enjoy too the compelling performance of Carter J. Murphy as young, very vulnerable and theatre-kid-in-a-football-world Robbie, and Williams’ trademark humour in his voiceovers.
Support my writing and future cultural adventures for the price of a cup of coffee at Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/susanadventuresinculture
