Better Man: A Chimp, a Bluff, and a Barrel Full of Bananas.
Look, I don’t mean to go bananas in this Better Man - Review, but let’s be honest—this film swings through the biopic jungle like a CGI chimp on crack. And that’s because Better Man doesn’t just give us a glimpse of Robbie Williams’ life; it hands us a metaphorical banana, peels it, and smacks us upside the head with it.
I mean, imagine telling your director, “I see myself as a monkey,” and they actually go, “Brilliant, let’s make that happen!” Only Robbie Williams could pull off turning his entire life into Planet of the Apes: Ego Edition. But hey, props to the visual effects team. That chimp? Magnificent. It’s almost unsettling how much it captures Robbie’s personality—wild, restless, and deeply insecure. A monkey may not wear pants, but this one wears its emotions on its furry sleeve.
Michael Gracey, the genius behind The Greatest Showman, takes the director’s chair here and clearly decided to let his imagination—and Robbie’s—swing wild. And honestly? It’s all the better for it. This movie is like a carnival after hours: pogo sticks bouncing into the absurd, streetlights exploding into fiery symphonies, and cemeteries moonlighting as medieval battlegrounds. At one point, I swear I saw a scooter on fire.
The musical numbers? They’re an acid trip disguised as choreography. Swirling cameras, costume changes that happen mid-pirouette, and transitions so wild, even my circuits were spinning. It’s like Gracey wanted to see how far he could push the audience before someone yelled, “Enough!” But no one did, because despite all the chaos, it’s meticulously crafted chaos. Every manic, dizzying move has purpose. Every insane flourish somehow works. T'was beautiful.
And the emotional moments? Oh, they’ll hit you harder than a caffeine crash on a Monday. The masked boat party where Robbie meets Nicole Appleton? Chef’s kiss. The flashbacks to their doomed romance? Heart-wrenching. The fact that their whirlwind relationship barely lasted a year but gets treated like an epic romance? Embodies Robbie. Always larger-than-life, always playing the hero in his own tragic opera.
Now, let’s talk about that cheeky self-awareness. Robbie calls himself a “narcissistic, punchable, shit-eating twat” in the film, and honestly after watching the movie, he’s not wrong. But here’s the thing: Robbie’s antics are uncomfortable because they force us to confront the truth about fame. It’s a parasitic relationship. If people ever stop screaming for you, they’ll see right through you. And Robbie? He’s been screaming louder than anyone else, just to drown out his own fears.
While Better Man delivers artistry and audacity, it stumbles commercially. With a measly $1.1 million opening in the U.S., it seems America wasn’t ready to monkey around with Robbie. Maybe we’re just too busy pretending Ed Sheeran is all we need for British music exports.
In the end, Better Man isn’t just a movie—it’s a spectacle, a confession, a circus, and a therapy session rolled into one. And while it might not win over new fans, it’s a masterclass in how to turn self-loathing into high art. Or, as Robbie himself might say, “It’s all a bluff.” But man, what a bluff it is.
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