Better Man, 2024.

Directed by Michael Gracey.
Starring Robbie Williams, Jonno Davies, Steve Pemberton, Damon Herriman, Raechelle Banno, Alison Steadman, Kate Mulvany, Frazer Hadfield, Tom Budge, Anthony Hayes, Jake Simmance, Jesse Hyde, Liam Head, Chase Vollenweider, Rose Flanagan, Jack Sherran, Karina Banno, Asmara Feik, Leo Harvey-Elledge, Elyssia Koulouris, Frazer Hadfield, Chris Gun, Ben Hall, Kaela Daffara, and Chase Vollenweider.

SYNOPSIS:

Follow Robbie Williams’ journey from childhood, to being the youngest member of chart-topping boyband Take That, through to his unparalleled achievements as a record-breaking solo artist – all the while confronting the challenges that stratospheric fame and success can bring.

During a conversation exploring the possibility of a biopic, British popstar Robbie Williams told well-regarded musical director Michael Gracey that he saw himself as a monkey performing for others. That became the window into telling the story of this singer/songwriter with Better Man, a film that, as the title implies, also shows that Robbie Williams is self-aware of his flaws, mistakes, and shortcomings without being afraid to put them front and center. Yes, rather than go through the arduous casting process, Michael Gracey ran with that comment literally, making the creative choice to have the pop star played by a CGI monkey (voiced by Jonno Davies, with Robbie Williams lending his vocals.)

It’s a smart move to roll a short clip of subject and filmmaker conversing before the film starts proper, not just because other parts of the world might not be familiar with Robbie Williamss music (consistently accidentally reading it as a biopic about musician Robin Williams if you’re anything like me), but also since this is such a bold concept for a biopic that it’s helpful to get an idea of what this man looks like and the personality he puts out there before it’s all monkey business.

Going one step further, this turns out to not fall into the trappings of a flailing gimmick but ties into themes of pressures of the music industry, fame causing stunted behavior, family drama, and an unflinching portrayal of self that doesn’t smooth over any rough edges. Better Man is an invigorating biopic; a shot of adrenaline to the most overplayed, clichéd genre. After this, no one should be allowed to make biopics (at least ones about musicians) unless they have an equally creative angle or some compelling X factor behind it. Simply put, this film puts most recent offerings from the genre to shame, especially the ones that get trotted out at the end of every year as familiar awards bait.

Even though the life trajectory and story beats aren’t anything new to anyone who has ever seen a biopic about a musician before, it gets to be told with boundless imagination, typically coming from several dazzling musical sequences. Not only are they dynamic in presentation (whether it be jubilantly unfolding across the streets of London or something more melancholy regarding fatherly abandonment), but they are sometimes highwire concepts themselves; Better Man has one of the most thrilling, fantastically clever, visually stunning, and exciting takes on battling one’s demons.

The characters (including Robbie’s family, friends, lover, hell, and even Oasis) don’t interact or react to Robbie Williams as a monkey. It’s a visual treat for us (this film would fall apart without the astonishingly expressive technical wizardry from Weta, who already have proven themselves as outstanding in this field when it comes to the recent Planet of the Apes movies) but another personal, self-deprecating, honest interpretation of how Robbie saw himself during these life stages. Initially, this feels like it will end up as a missed opportunity for further creativity or humor. One of the more surprising elements here is that the filmmakers (with Michael Gracey co-writing alongside Oliver Cole and Simon Gleeson) are playing this material straight and not going for laughs. That confidence pays off, allowing a maximalist, melodramatic side to come out with sincere, absorbing emotional heft.

That story follows a standard rise and fall structure, with Robbie Williams finding inspiration from his initially supportive singing father (Steve Pemberton), exhibiting a relatable drive to make his grandmother (Alison Steadman proud, getting his start in boy band Take That before his insecurities and worsening substance abuse and egocentric behavior gets him kicked out, stumbling into a rocky relationship with Nicole Appleton (Raechelle Banno), and then not only finding the courage to put some meaningful lyrics out into the world through a successful solo career but managing the anxieties that come with performing in front of humongous crowds while constantly struggling with drug addiction. 

Some of those aspects feel glossed over and aren’t as explored as they possibly could have been (the film is already 135 minutes, but some of it is given a broad strokes treatment), but it’s affecting anyway due to the creativity, artistry, musical numbers, and blunt honesty enhancing those character dynamics. Better Man is a biopic that starts with a confessional about being a narcissist and having a punchable face and ends up somewhere beautifully moving that perfectly captures the essence of that title. There is also a healthy dose of Frank Sinatra here, given that he was a major source of inspiration for Robbie Williams, so let’s say he and Michael Gracey did this biopic their way, and the result is something no one should want any other way.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com

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The architectural wonder of writer-director Brady Corbet’s 215-minute postwar immigrant epic “The Brutalist” astonishes onscreen. The ambitious spectacle, which follows László Toth (Adrien Brody) chasing his American Dream, only to be upended by a tycoon (Guy Pearce), was captured on VistaVision for its visceral widescreen imagery. The striking photography from cinematographer Lol Crawley suggests themes of modernity versus classicism — the waters of the Statue of Liberty, the majestic quarries of Carrara, Italy — but a sensual magnetism seeps into the visual style as well. Its full extent is on display during an underground party where László drinks and dances with a woman (Dóra Sztarenki). Filming in Budapest, Crawley minimally lighted the moody moment, which reverberates with a sultry version of “You Are My Destiny.” The camera drifts, hinting to an ominous figure looking from above. “What’s wonderful about that scene is that we start on the woman’s legs as she walks in, and then she has this flirtatious dance with Laszlo,” Crawley says. “It’s all handheld, shot in an almost documentary way to give the actors freedom in the space. So it’s this real gentle balance, which in many ways was wonderful and liberating.” It’s a gentle moment that soon turns brutal.

Robert Eggers’s take on the 1922 F.W. Murnau film “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” has long been a passion project for the director, in various stages of development since he broke out with 2015’s “The Witch.” Now that the film has finally made its way to screens, Eggers has the opportunity to shine. And like any of his films, “Nosferatu” has mood and style to spare.

Eggers’s movies always have great attention to detail, but sometimes the style can outweigh the story and “Nosferatu” is no different. “The Witch” was about setting a moody atmosphere and “The Northman” was about showing off the muscularity in his filmmaking and in between he made arguably his best movie, “The Lighthouse,” which is a bizarre, fever dream kind of experience.

In the first frames of “Nosferatu,” Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) emerges from the shadows with tears running down her face. She is calling out to something, but nothing is there. What is making her body move in such unpleasant ways? Who is the mysterious voice calling out to her? From the shadows emerges a silhouette of Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), who is haunting Ellen.

Years later, Ellen is in a relationship with Thomas (Nicholas Hoult, who is having a busy year between “Nosferatu,” “Juror #2” and “The Order”). Thomas is heading to Transylvania to meet with Count Orlock, foreshadowing a great deal of dread in the movie. Back home,  Ellen is not doing well, constantly haunted by the looming presence of Count Orlock, who will not let her know peace.

Not only does Count Orlock hang over Ellen’s life, but his existence hangs over the entire movie. Eggers effectively uses the character sparingly, shooting him in shadows and only revealing his face every so often. It’s best to go into the movie surprised by the design, because Eggers certainly doesn’t settle for recreating the well-established imagery from the original film. Skarsgård, who is becoming a horror film regular, is nowhere to be found in his performance, completely disappearing behind the character.

Depp delivers the strongest performance of her young career, as she is required to run the gauntlet of emotional and physical pain. Her suffering helps bring some emotion to the movie, which can occasionally feel cold and distant in service of emphasizing the film’s craft. Individual moments of dread feel palpable, but the movie goes through plodding stretches (including with superfluous characters played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin; Eggers regular Willem Dafoe also plays a role), where the emotionality of Depp’s performance and the grim appearance of Skarsgård become sorely missed.

Even when the movie is choppy, it’s hard to not get lost in the impeccability of the craft. Egger and cinematographer Jarin Blaschke partially use natural lighting to establish the mood, while production designer Craig Lathrop transports viewers to 1838 Germany. Getting lost in the world of “Nosferatu” isn’t hard — though sometimes being moved by it as a whole is a tough task.

“Nosferatu” is currently playing in theaters.

Matt Passantino is a contributor to CITY.