Cutting edge tech elevates Better Man
In researching British pop star Robbie Williams for a
potential biopic, director Michael Gracey noticed that in numerous interviews,
the singer referred to himself as a monkey being dragged onto the stage, forced
to perform. The seed of the idea of portraying the performer as a simian took
root there and gained traction once the filmmaker and his two co-writers, Simon
Gleeson and Oliver Cole, realized how this approach would serve as an effective
metaphor for Williams’ numerous addictions. And as the singer points out, “We
have deep empathy and compassion for animals, way more than we do for humans.”
This certainly helps, because throughout a good chunk of
Gracey’s Better Man, Williams’ behavior is insufferable. That he’s seen
as a doleful monkey certainly helps the viewer stay in his corner. Much like so
many other biopics of tortured artists, Williams’ story hits all the familiar
notes – a dysfunctional upbringing, sudden stardom, self-destructive behavior,
miraculous career resurrection – that the sameness of it all dulls its
emotional impact. That being said, that
monkey is a charmer and the special effects work on display is astonishing, the
film often working more as a technical marvel than a compelling biography.
Due to his father’s (Steve Pemberton) desire to become a pop
star, Williams (Jonno Davies) became enamored with the likes of Frank Sinatra,
Sammy Davis Jr. and Dean Martin at an early age. Singing along with these performers
on the T.V., the young boy takes his dad’s words regarding his prospects –
“You’re either born with it or you’re a nobody” – to heart. And when his father
abandons the family to pursue his dream, Williams’ goal is bolstered by his
ever-supportive grandmother and mother (Alison Steadman and Kate Mulvany).
Williams’ fortunes take a turn when he’s made a member of
the boy band Take That, the group becoming an overnight sensation, the singer
diving headfirst into all the excess his newfound stardom affords him. Drugs
are abused, the singer is thrown out of the group, he alienates his girlfriend, pop singer Nicole Appleton (Rachelle Banno), hits rock bottom and… well, you
know the rest.
Despite the familiarity of the story, Gracey’s innovations
in the staging of various musical numbers and the way he employs his
CGI-wrought leading man, are impressive. There are showstopping moments
aplenty, chief among them an extended song-and-dance number that takes place
along Regent Street to “Rock DJ.” Equally impressive is a boundary breaking
scene driven by William’s “Come Undone,” that finds the singer fleeing from his
troubles, hurtling towards oblivion. While these set-pieces are visual
stunners, they also forcefully drive the story along.
The work by Luke Millar and Andy Taylor of Weta captivates
throughout, so much so that this gimmick never wears out its welcome. Davies
studied hours upon hours of archival footage featuring Williams to capture his
swagger and facial expressions. Just how much of his work survives the
transition that occurs to create the simian avatar is unknown, though the final
product does resemble the singer’s physicality to a remarkable degree.
Gracey is well-aware he’s walking in the footsteps of Bohemian
Rhapsody, Rocketman and many others. Yet, he doesn’t let that deter him
from creating a distinctive, energetic piece of work that succeeds despite many
potential pitfalls. Williams’ evolution from stunted man-child to a more
reliable member of society culminates with a celebration of his career, a
concert that sees him reconciling with his father on stage. That “My Way” is
the concluding number is fitting. Despite the naysayers, Williams and Gracey
have cut their own path with Better Man, a radical if flawed examination
of one monkey’s evolution to maturity. In theaters.
Damned provides effective, slow-burn chills
With a thorny ethical dilemma at its core and clever use of
its natural surroundings, Thordur Palsson’s The Damned is a film
concerned with moral and physical claustrophobia. Taking place in the late 19th century
in an unnamed Nordic village, its inhospitable environment – a barren, rocky
snowbound expanse bordered by rocky crags on three sides and the ocean on the
other – proves to be a dire, inescapable threat.
However, the ramifications resulting from a life-and-death situation is
what comes to haunt each member of this small outpost.
Her husband having died the previous year, it has fallen to
Eva (Odessa Young) to run the fishing outfit in the isolated valley where she
lives. She and her crew of six reliable men have endured one setback after
another. For far too long, their catches have been small, so much so that
they’ve taken to eating their bait. Starvation is in the offing if this
continues.
Wrapping up their work one day, they spy a ship quickly
sinking within sight of their shore. Though their first instinct is to help,
Eva reluctantly decides they should not go to the aid of any survivors. Not
having enough food for themselves, taking in more mouths to feed would spell their
doom.
This decision doesn’t sit well with any of them and when
they finally set out to help, they’re met with four frightened survivors who
they kill when they threaten to swamp their tiny boat. They give them a decent
burial, but not one that will keep their spirits at bay, according to Helga
(Siobhan Finneran), the company’s maid and cook. She warns them of Draugurs,
zombies who were once men, but died at sea. They ignore her pleas to tie the
limbs and pound nails into the corpses’ feet, these actions said to hobble
these supernatural beings. Her concerns are brushed aside as just so much
superstition… that is, until things start to go bump in the night.
Palsson creates a sense of dread that mounts throughout,
visions of the Draugurs occurring in a matter-of-fact manner that is genuinely
disturbing. Their presence is unannounced, the director including them, motionless, in the background of the shots, blending in with the setting. It’s
only when they move that we and the characters become aware of their presence,
an approach that’s far more effective than any jump scare.
This method is amplified by Eli Arenson’s cinematography.
The already tight interiors become even more confining thanks to his approach
of having a light source in the middle of the frame, surrounded by
ever-encroaching shadows. What with these spaces perhaps containing a member of
the undead, there is seemingly no escape for Eva and her cohorts. The icy blues Arenson captures of the world
outside the settlement are no less inviting.
Though its running time is less than 90 minutes, the film
drags at times, the story becoming repetitious. While this may have been done
purposely to underscore the monotony of the characters’ existence, it does the
narrative no favors. Still, conversations regarding the importance of
faith and various suggestions about how to appease the god(s) that have
seemingly abandoned them give the story some much-needed narrative heft.
Perhaps the most effective thing about The Damned is
its ability to transport us to another place. Without the use of
computer-generated effects, Palsson takes us to an environment as foreign to
most of us as the moon, yet recognizable enough so that we can relate to it. As
such, we are as vulnerable as its characters and as susceptible to odd
occurrences and folklore as they are. In theaters.
This article appears in Adams Street at a crossroads.
