British boy band Take That saw Robbie Williams catapulted from his humble roots in the industrial heartland of the UK to musical megastardom. Following his humiliating and widely-publicized expulsion from the band, Williams took stock of his life to become a Better Man, and subsequently achieve striking solo success. Director and co-writer Michael Gracey (Rocket Man, P!nk: All I Know So Far) spoke with Creative Screenwriting Magazine about his music biopic.
The concept of Better Man began when Hugh Jackman was unsure about The Greatest Showman, Gracey’s film about the Barnum & Bailey Circus. “Robbie Williams was someone that Hugh referenced a lot when we were working on The Greatest Showman. P.T. Barnum is an example of a great showman who can really hold an audience in the palm of his hand.”
Gracey visited Williams to ask if he’d do a video for Hugh Jackman. He accepted after loving the songs on the film. Over the course of a year or two, Gracey visited Williams in his studio in Los Angeles and recorded their interviews which became the basis for a narrative thread of Better Man.
Writing Musical Biopics
The rise and fall and rise again of Robbie Williams is a fairly typical template for musical biopics complete featuring the artist’s dizzying highs and despair-filled lows. The unique thing with Take That is that Williams reached the pinnacle of his career at age sixteen until he was fired at age twenty-one. “That a lot to take on when you think of what it is when you’re thrust into the spotlight in that way. You understand why a lot of those child stars have a really hard time coming down from that euphoria, then looking for it in other places, and dealing with the mental health issues that go with that,” continues Gracey.
Robbie was written off by his former bandmates and no-one thought he would launch a solo career. “The record label didn’t believe it. His management didn’t believe it. The only one who believed it was Robbie. I sort of love those impossible dreams.” Therein lies the main message in Better Man.
“Robbie’s ability to balance his public exuberance and cheeky charm with the more intimate, self-conscious, and often tumultuous, aspects of his life offers a deeply engaging and vulnerable narrative in the film.” Both Williams and Gracey were careful to balance Robbie’s successes and failures to avoid romanticizing his career. This approach is augmented by Gracey’s appreciation of Bob Fosse (All That Jazz, Cabaret) where pain and joy feed off each other. Each performance is a spectacle to behold. Robbie Williams is a man of contradictions; he’s foul-mouthed and sweet, sensitive and brash, confident and full of self-doubt. He’s in search of the impossible dream.
There are some truly thematic gems in Better Man, especially when his producer Guy Chambers (Tom Budge) tells him that “a song is only valuable if it costs you something.”
Williams had a turbulent relationship with his father Peter (Steve Pemberton) who never realized his own dreams of making a successful music career. Robbie manifested his dad’s unfulfilled dreams through his solo career as a way of seeking his approval. Williams’ senior famously quoted, “There wouldn’t be a Robbie Williams without me.”
“His dad’s love of Sinatra is catalyst for Robbie. ‘I want my dad to look at me the same way he looks at Sinatra. In a scene where Robbie’s in the bathtub, he tells his father that he doesn’t want to be a nobody. His dad reassures him that there’s no such thing as a nobody.”
Robbie also has a special bond with his nan who offered him as much unconditional love as he needed.
Gracey avoids portraying the sanitized version of Robbie Williams. “It’s an insult as an audience member to sit there and go, we all know we’re watching the watered down version of this life. This is not at all what this person wants. Rob was very adamant about making this a warts and all biopic.” Robbie doesn’t normally reside in nostalgia. He lives in the moment. Better Man straddles both.
Make no mistake. Robbie Williams is no angel. But he owns his actions. “We all exist in a world where we’re fallible. We say things we regret. We do things we regret. We live a life where we have darker moments that we wish no one ever saw.”
I think you feel the light so much more when you go to those dark places
Williams “used drugs and alcohol as a way of self-medicating his ongoing mental health challenges because he wasn’t dealing with them. In the film, you clearly see him ignoring the self-loathing by seeing himself in the audience looking on in disgust. This is just another form of fighting yourself. I think at the time he was written off as being difficult and the bad boy,” adds Gracey.
During Gracey’s multiple interviews with Williams, he often referred to himself as a “performing monkey,” a persona he carries throughout the film. Williams says of his time with Take That, “They just dragged me up on stage to perform like a monkey.”
Fame makes monkeys of us all
Growing up in the harsh town of Stoke-On-Trent, Williams realized he had to wear his “I don’t care” armor to mask his sensitivity. Robbie was always destined for stardom through innate talent. He spent his childhood thinking that he was a nobody. Eventually he would become a somebody.