MOVIE REVIEW – How do you liven up yet another self-indulgent musical biopic? With monkeys. I’m dead serious. Better Man began as a casual conversation between British pop icon Robbie Williams and director Michael Gracey.

Williams confessed that, at times in his career, he felt like a performing monkey — an idea that Gracey spun into a striking visual concept. Instead of hiring an actor to recreate Williams’ iconic stage moments, the singer lends his voice to a fully animated, CGI monkey version of himself. It’s a wild gamble, yet shockingly, it works. The result injects much-needed originality into a genre often bogged down by repetitive tales of drugs, fame, and redemption.

“I don’t have time for no monkey business” (Queen)

Jonno Davies provides the motion-capture work for the chimpanzee version of Robbie Williams, who we first meet as an adorably scrappy chimpanze kid. Surrounding him are very human characters: his Sinatra-obsessed, absent father Peter (Steve Pemberton); his devoted but overshadowed mother Janet (Kate Mulvany); and his warm-hearted, ever-supportive grandmother Betty (Alison Steadman), the emotional core of the film. From childhood rejection on the sports field to the electrifying heights of his Knebworth concerts — right before checking into rehab — Better Man charts Williams’ meteoric rise. We relive his turbulent journey through boy-band fame with Take That, his explosive solo career, and the trials that cemented him as a pop legend — warts and all.

I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for a good music biopic, especially one where a coked-up CGI monkey takes center stage. That said, I’ve never been a Robbie Williams fan. He’s never been on my Spotify playlists, algorithmically or otherwise. Fortunately, Better Man doesn’t demand undying loyalty to Williams’ music or backstory. Gracey — whose flair for spectacle was already evident in The Greatest Showman — ensures the film resonates emotionally, even if you’re unfamiliar with the catalog. Williams’ re-recorded hits are woven seamlessly into key milestones, creating a cinematic tapestry that’s both artistically extravagant and surprisingly intimate. Gracey hits every note perfectly, delivering a production that’s as polished as it is poignant.

This Monkey Business Isn’t Just a Gimmick

At first glance, the idea of Better Man sounds like a gimmick — a literal singing monkey. But Gracey’s vision is far from surrealist chaos. Williams’ fragile sense of self-worth, so tightly tethered to ticket sales and fan adoration, is presented in a way that’s so blatant it becomes brilliant. Jonno Davies’ mo-cap performance is as nuanced and natural as anything you’d see in Planet of the Apes, while Williams’ vocals ground the character in reality. The animation itself is jaw-droppingly lifelike, blending so seamlessly into the world that no character bats an eye at the absurdity unfolding before them — and neither do we. It’s a balancing act that never grows tiresome, a minor miracle considering how far it pushes the boundaries of believability.

Williams’ monkey avatar also allows for fresh interpretations of tired “Behind the Music” tropes. His struggles with alcohol, drug addiction, and depression remain devastatingly relevant, but the visual storytelling elevates the material. Hallucinations plague Williams, where he’s confronted by younger, sneering versions of himself — yes, also monkeys — that eventually culminate in a nightmarish battlefield showdown. A packed arena transforms into an army of warrior-like Robbies, a sequence that could easily belong in a Planet of the Apes blockbuster. Gracey redefines how trauma can be depicted on-screen, offering something raw and haunting yet unmistakably cinematic. Characters battling their inner demons is nothing new, but when those demons manifest as gladiatorial monkey doubles? That’s a first.

Still Swinging on the Biopic Vine

For all its creativity, Better Man can’t fully escape the formulaic traps of the musical biopic genre. It follows the familiar arc seen in Rocketman, Bohemian Rhapsody, and countless others: bridges are burned, careers teeter on collapse, and one climactic performance changes everything.

Williams’ early addictions and boy-band struggles aren’t groundbreaking, and at times, the film’s introspection edges into self-indulgence. It’s hard not to think of Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, which mercilessly lampoons these very clichés. Even with Gracey’s unique vision, the script — co-written by Oliver Cole and Simon Gleeson — occasionally stumbles into predictability.

Love and Monkeys

Yet, for all its faults, Better Man wins us over with its unabashed sincerity. The bond between Williams and his grandmother Betty hits an emotional sweet spot, especially if you know the song Nan’s Song. The energy peaks during a Take That sequence that sees Piccadilly Circus transformed into a raucous, joy-filled music video set to Rock DJ. The romance between Williams and All Saints’ Nicole Appleton (Raechelle Banno) dances beautifully to She’s the One, intercut with gut-wrenching scenes of their failed attempts to start a family. Odd narrative choices emerge, like the film’s final spotlight on Williams’ absent father while his mother — the unsung hero of his life — fades into the background. And yet, Gracey still manages to tug at our heartstrings, even when the ego-stroking threatens to overshadow the story.

Better Man stands in a league of its own within the music biopic genre. Robbie Williams takes a concept no other artist would dare attempt and executes it brilliantly alongside Gracey. This isn’t a gimmicky monkey sideshow — CGI Williams is the film’s beating heart. Gracey strikes a perfect balance between absurdity and authenticity, ensuring the story’s emotional core remains intact even as the visuals tread into uncharted territory. Whether or not Better Man is Williams’ ultimate vanity project is beside the point. The performances, the music, and the sheer audacity of it all make this a must-see — an inspired reinvention of how personal stories can be told.

-Gergely Herpai “BadSector”-