Episode 41 — Better Man (2024): Why the Chimpanzee Works | Fork Rating

In this episode of Movies I Give a Fork About, I discuss Better Man, the unconventional musical biopic that tells the story of Robbie Williams in a way no other music biography has dared to attempt.

At first glance, the decision to portray Williams as a CGI chimpanzee seems bizarre. But as the film unfolds, that creative choice becomes one of its greatest strengths, offering a powerful visual representation of insecurity, self-doubt, and the gap between how the world sees us and how we see ourselves.  

Directed by Michael Gracey (The Greatest Showman), Better Man delivers spectacular musical sequences and stunning visual effects, but what impressed me most was its willingness to confront addiction, fame, self-destruction, and vulnerability without glamourizing any of it. This is a film about the search for validation, the damage we do trying to outrun ourselves, and the long road toward self-acceptance.  

I also talk about why the film resonated with me personally, particularly its portrayal of addiction and recovery, and why one reimagined musical number sent me straight to Spotify afterward. Sometimes the most moving stories aren’t about becoming famous—they’re about learning to live with yourself once the applause stops.

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Hosted by AJ Jones, this podcast cuts through hype, marketing, and awards buzz to answer one simple question:

Is this movie actually worth your time?

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome to Movies I Give a Fork About, the podcast where we don't use stars, we use forks. Because not every movie deserves your time. Not every movie earns your emotion. But when one truly does, well that's when you give a fork. I'm AJ and today's movie is Better Man. Alright, sometimes the most honest stories aren't told by someone making someone look larger than life. Instead, they're told by someone making them look less than human. I recently watched Better Man for the second time. The first time I saw it, I remember being surprised how much I really enjoyed this film. I knew it was receiving attention because it was nominated for visual effects a couple of years ago at the Oscars, and rightly so. Because after seeing it twice, I can honestly say the special effects aren't just impressive, they are essential to the storytelling. Better Man is the musical biopic about the real life of Robbie Williams. But unlike many music biopics that sanitize their subjects or smooth over the uncomfortable parts, Better Man feels remarkably raw, honest, and self-aware. It tells the story of a man struggling with childhood trauma, crippling insecurity, addiction, fame, self-loathing, and the impossible task of finding peace while millions of people are watching. And it does something unusual. Robbie Williams is portrayed throughout the film as a CGI chimpanzee. Now that's a storytelling choice that has divided many audiences. Some viewers found it distracting, some found it gimmicky, I found it fascinating. Because from the opening credits, from Robbie Williams' perspective, he narrates occasionally throughout the film, this is how he sees himself. Not as the superstar the world sees, not as the charismatic performer commanding stadiums full of adoring fans, but as the little insecure boy underneath all of it. But he felt awkward, and of course, our own worst critics are loud in our heads, and so I thought it was a really interesting storytelling choice in terms of how he saw himself from the very beginning. And once I understood that, the choice made perfect sense to me. This film is directed by Michael Gracie, the same director behind The Greatest Showman, so you can feel that influence throughout this movie. The musical sequences are spectacular. The energy is infectious, and the visual imagination is extraordinary. But unlike the greatest showman, Better Man is not interested in creating a fairy tale. It is interested in exposing the cost of becoming one. And what struck me the most during the second viewing is just how vulnerable the storytelling feels. This film never excuses Robbie's behavior. It doesn't glamorize addiction, and it does not romanticize fame. Instead, it shows us a man desperately trying to outrun himself with alcohol, the drugs, the endless pursuit of validation, the empty relationships, the self-destruction. None of it feels sensationalized. It feels painfully human. And one scene in particular stayed with me when Robbie begins writing music with his longtime collaborator Guy Chambers, and there's a discussion about vulnerability and what it means to truly write a song. The implication is simple but powerful. You have to give something away. You have to risk something. Art requires vulnerability. And whether you're writing music or writing stories or painting or performing or creating in any form, the artist is offering themselves to complete strangers and hoping they understand. And that takes courage. And Better Man understands that. And as someone who has spent time in recovery communities and attended open twelve-step meetings, I found the portrayal of addiction particularly powerful. I've heard people tell stories that would seem impossible if you hadn't witnessed them firsthand. I've sat in rooms where people shared the whole terrible truth without interruption, without judgment, without advice. Just honesty. And Better Man reminded me of those rooms. Because the film allows Robbie Williams to tell the whole story, not the polished version, not the PR version, the messy version. And for me, that is what makes this film work. I was also surprised by how much I appreciated the music. I never disliked Robbie Williams' music, but I wouldn't have described myself as a devoted fan either. What the film helped me appreciate was just how much of that catalog came from him. The songwriting, the creativity, the vulnerability, and perhaps most importantly, the willingness to revisit those songs and reinterpret them. Huh and the reimagined version of Rock DJ featured in the film absolutely fucking floored me. And don't get me wrong, the original was memorable, and the music video was innovative and so ahead of its fucking time. But this new arrangement with its big band energy and cinematic scale found its way onto several of my playlists. I fucking love it. And for me, it's the kind of song I immediately replay because once just simply isn't enough. And that song as a musical number in the film is also extraordinary. Massive choreography, streetwide performances, hundreds of dancers, combined with cutting-edge visual effects. It's one of the most memorable sequences I've seen in a music biopic in years. Now, to be fair, Better Man won't work for everyone. The CGI chimpanzee concept is undoubtedly a creative risk. If you can't get past that central visual idea, the film may never fully connect for you. Likewise, some viewers may find the emotional intensity of addiction excessive. The film spends considerable time inside Robbie's internal struggles, and for those unfamiliar with addiction, recovery, or severe self-destructive behavior, parts of the story may feel exaggerated. I've heard people say that addiction couldn't possibly be that bad, that it just doesn't really look like this. But from what I've witnessed and heard and held stories for people that I love and care about, it often does. And if anything, the film may be more truthful than some audiences are comfortable or willing to go there. And perhaps that's exactly the point. So what moved me most about Better Man wasn't the visual effects. It wasn't the music. It wasn't even the spectacular musical performances. It was the little boy at the center of the story. The insecure child introduced at the beginning of the film who spends decades searching for approval, validation, and most of all, peace. By the end, what I saw wasn't a story about fame, and it wasn't a story about celebrity. It was a story about healing, about learning to live with yourself, about finally finding enough self-acceptance that the demons lose their grip. They get a lot quieter. And I found that deeply moving. And I definitely cried more than once, even though this was my second viewing of the movie. And any movie that can still move me when I already know exactly what's coming deserves credit for that. So my fork rating is four out of five forks. Better Man is a visually stunning, emotionally fearless, and refreshingly honest movie. Its unconventional storytelling choices won't work for everyone, but those who are willing to go along for the ride, it offers something increasingly rare. Authenticity. It is worth your time. And if you happen to already love Robbie Williams's music, well then lucky fucking you. And that's today's fork. If you enjoyed this episode, please follow the show, share it with someone who also gives a fork about movies. Until next time, watch boldly, judge honestly, and never be afraid to give a fork.