“Better Man” is the “Citizen Kane” of our generation
“One of the markers of good parenting is that your child doesn’t have any wish to become famous.” ~ Alain de Botton
Michael Gracey’s “Better Man” is not just a film — it’s an event, a revelation, a work of staggering audacity and emotional depth that redefines the genre of biopic as profoundly as “I, Tonya” did. In its boldness, its technical ingenuity, and its profound psychological portrait of Robbie Williams, “Better Man” feels to me as groundbreaking as “Citizen Kane,” a film that reimagined what movies could do and how they could speak about the human condition. Gracey’s kaleidoscopic blend of surrealism, spectacle, and raw humanity is monumental.
The difference between “The Planet of the Apes” and “Better Man” is that the humans in “The Planet of the Apes” see and interact with the apes as speaking apes. In “Better Man” the humans interact with Robbie as if he were 100% human: only Robbie and the audience see him as a monkey. It’s unimaginably brilliant and you must see it to believe the emotional depth of the world’s greatest cabaret act portrayed as a vivacious monkey that everyone around him doesn’t see as a monkey.
If you don’t already know, Robbie Williams is one of the biggest pop stars in the U.K. with 14 number #1 hits, but he never gained similar recognition in America. Gracey’s choice to portray the star as a CGI chimpanzee navigating a live-action world is so daring that it borders on madness — and yet it works perfectly. The monkey becomes a haunting representation of Williams’ feelings of inadequacy, his self-loathing, and his struggle to reconcile the public persona with the private man. This isn’t just a biopic; it’s an existential inquiry into fame, identity, the ways we see ourselves versus how the world sees us, our authentic selves in contrast to our false selves. Like Orson Welles’ Charles Foster Kane, Williams is both larger-than-life and heartbreakingly human — a figure whose triumphs are inseparable from his tragedies.
Gracey’s visual storytelling is revolutionary. The seamless integration of CGI with live-action is breathtaking in its artistry. The decision to keep Williams as a monkey throughout — even in moments where you might expect him to transform into a human — underscores the film’s central thesis: that our demons are always with us, but they don’t have to define us and eventually we may even be able to make peace with them. High-resolution scans of Williams’ own eyes are used for the monkey, creating an uncanny yet deeply moving effect that feels even more revealing than any actor could manifest.
Like “Birdman,” “Better Man” explores the chasm between public performance and private despair; like “Uncut Gems,” “Better Man” pulses with an almost unbearable intensity, immersing us in the chaos and contradictions of its central figure.
Yet what sets “Better Man” apart is its emotional core. Robbie Williams’ willingness to confront his darkest moments with such unflinching transparency is the bravest thing I’ve ever seen in a film. Williams’ misguided quest for fame as a poor substitute for his absent father’s unconditional love will rip your heart open. This is a film about authentic yearning for connection, acceptance, and the only thing that really matters, namely, love. Williams’ desperate need for external validation to fill his internal hole should cause countless talentfree influencers to change their self-anointed social media “Public Figure” monikers and rethink the two-dimensional personas they created.
If “Citizen Kane” was about the mythos of the American Dream and its ultimate hollowness, “Better Man” is about something even more primal: our desire to be loved unconditionally. Both films use innovative techniques not as ends in themselves but as tools to excavate their protagonists’ psyches. Both films are deeply personal yet universal in their resonance. And both films leave you shaken — not just by their genius but by their humanity.
In “Better Man,” Gracey has created not just a film but a pivotal moment in cinema — a work that pushes boundaries while staying deeply attuned to the emotional truths at its center. It’s hard to overstate how important this movie feels right now: in an era when so much media feels disposable or derivative, here is something wholly original, bracingly honest, and profoundly moving.
Robbie Williams may have started out wanting fame more than anything else, but with “Better Man” he achieves something far greater: he gives us himself, authentic, raw and unapologetic. In doing so, he reminds us why we go to the movies in the first place — to see not just others but ourselves reflected back at us in all our flawed, messy glory.
“Better Man” isn’t just one of the best films of the year; it’s one of the most essential films of our time — a work destined to be studied and celebrated by all future generations.
