Better Man

GoMovieReviews Rating: ★★★★Better Man

Rated: MA15+

Directed by: Michael Gracey

Written by: Simon Gleeson, Oliver Cole, Michael Gracey

Produced by: Craig McMahon, Coco Xiaolu Ma, Jules Daly, Paul Currie p.g.a

Starring: Robbie Williams, Jonno Davies, Steve Pemberton, Damon Herriman, Raechelle Banno, Alison Steadman, Kate Mulvaney, Frazer Hadfield, Tom Budge and Anthony Hayes.

‘Let me entertain you.’

Inspired by the true events of Robert Williams’ life, Robbie Williams’ beginning was a humble one.

Back in 1982, grubby and deprived, Robert is facedown in the mud.

The local kids tell him, ‘You really are useless, aren’t you?’

‘You’re a fucking nobody.’

But his nan (Alison Steadman) loved him.

‘I wouldn’t change a hair on your head,’ she tells him.

It says a lot that the film has Robbie as a monkey.

Robbie says the best thing his, Take That manager, Nigel Martin-Smith (Damon Herriman) did was change his name from Robert to Robbie because then he had a name to hide behind.

But he’d do anything to be in that spotlight, even if it terrified him.

Director, Michael Gracey states, ‘Robbie would say things like, “I’m up the back dancing like a monkey.” After a while, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be amazing to represent Robbie as a monkey in the film?” Because Robbie is telling this story – and that’s how he sees himself.’

Growing up with his mum (Kate Mulvaney) and nana, Robbie idolized his dad (Steve Pemberton), also a performer.  He tells Robbie, ‘You’re either born with it or you’re a nobody.’

Robbie was terrified of being a nobody.

The film doesn’t hold back from telling the story of Robbie’s life.

Robbie learnt early that it wasn’t just talent that made you famous, it was being a smart arse on stage that went a long way to helping that rise to fame a reality.

Signing with, Take That at 15, Robbie thought he’d blown the audition.  It was being a smart arse, telling Nigel Martin-Smith that he’d tell the rest of the contenders to go home, ending the statement with a wink, that got him the spot in the hugely successful boy band.

He’d finally found his place.  His freedom.

Until his demons started showing up in the audience.

Those demons getting him kicked out of the band because of his need for substances to give him the courage to get up on stage.

The bad boy.

The insecure boy.  Stunted at 15.

The journey of his life is shown in Robbie’s music and a continual rollercoaster that flowed from one scene to the other like table lamps lighting, one to the other across the room.

Like black water rising from the floor to drown the man always hiding.

‘My life always seems to be a tightrope act with no safety harness,’ admits Williams. ‘I could fall off at any moment and a lot of the time I do.’

There’s an edge to that chaotic feeling throughout the film, those lurking demons give the film an understanding of the pressure Robbie was under, what he had to fight every time he performed.

But there’s also a lot of fun here, like the merch of, Take That featuring babushka dolls where one boy goes into another, ‘for the foreign fans.’

Everyone loves a smart arse redemption story, and this one is vastly entertaining.

As introduced at the premiere by producer Paul Currie, Gracey is genius in opening a window into Robbie Williams’ life.

And there’s brutal truth to it, but also a warm heart.

Punch & Judy

Rated: MA 15+Punch and Judy

Directed by: Mirrah Foulkes

Written by: Mirrah Foulkes

Produced by: Michele Bennett, Nash Edgerton, Danny Gabai

Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Damon Herriman, Tom Budge, Benedict Hardie, Lucy Velik, Gillian Jones, Terry Norris, Brenda Palmer.

This strangely beautiful fairytale, horror story, social commentary is not an easy film to classify.

Behind the scenes, the director has breathed life into the puppets, allowing the drama of the Punch and Judy Show to play out beyond its predetermined conclusion.

Traditionally Punch batters a whole cast of characters. Often starting by mistreating his own baby, Punch’s other victims include Judy, a police constable, a skeleton, the devil and even a crocodile—with many of those hapless characters now populating the village of Seaside.

In the version of the show that has survived in England from the 17th century until the present day, Punch and Judy are glove puppets voiced by a single storyteller.

Dubbed the Professor, the puppeteer uses a device called a swazzle for the voice of Punch. Since the swazzle renders Punch almost unintelligible, he mutters away, his frustration and fury building, until he finally vents, paying out on anything in reach with his slapstick.

Even so, the film harks back to the earlier marionette theatre that made its way to England from Italy’s commedia dell’arte. The word slapstick in our modern language actually has its origins in the literal slap stick that Punchinello carried across from Europe, while the expression pleased as punch macabrely  derives from Punch’s glee when he beats another character senseless and then proudly proclaims, ‘That’s the way to do it’.

As, Punch & Judy opens, it’s a moment where life imitates art imitating life. Professor Punch (Damon Herriman) and Judy (Mia Wasikowska) are taking a bow for their newly revived more punchy and more smashy show when the Professor apropos of nothing, casually flings Judy across the stage and into a wall.

In keeping with the English tradition where the crowd sides with Punch, shouting out warnings to him and revealing the hiding places of the other characters, the living puppets of Seaside have descended into a state of mob rule, with those who are weaker or different are scapegoated as witches.

In this world the voice of the accuser holds sway, while the rabble seizes upon the flimsiest of pretexts to displace their own depravity onto the those unable to defend themselves: ‘This one’s chickens all died on the one night, this one has a rash and that one was out staring at the moon for too long.’

As three women, ‘Fresh filthy examples of the evil sweeping our land,’ cower on the gallows for Stoning Day (a cunning inversion of Mother’s Day), I was struck by a frisson of recognition. The setting was one I’d roamed around in. I’d had picnics there. It wasn’t the English forest that I was seeing, but native Australian bushland.

It was a conundrum. Why set a quintessentially English story on the other side of the world? The film was so beautifully composed, so it didn’t seem accidental. Many of the scenes had been shot with specially-selected lenses from the 1960s and 70s, and some scenes had even been shot by candlelight as way to evoke the rich, dreamlike feel. When I thought about it, I wondered if, maybe, the film had been designed so we could see ourselves more clearly, while we believe that we were looking at them over there.

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