It was a throwaway comment: Robbie Williams, Take That’s cheeky chappie-turned-tabloid fodder solo phenomenon, described himself as a performing monkey, prancing and preening in front of the cameras and seeking the approval of the audience (or at least a banana or two).
But for director Michael Gracey (The Greatest Showman), it was the key to unlocking Williams’s conflicted relationship with his celebrity and his compulsion to perform. In a creative gamble to rival Piece by Piece director Morgan Neville’s decision to tell the Pharell Williams story with Lego animation recently, Gracey replaces Williams in this warts-and-all biopic with a CGI chimpanzee in an otherwise human cast.
It’s a gamble that not only pays off — it’s arguably the main reason the film works as well as it does.
Photo: AP
Narrated by Williams (Jonno Davies delivers a motion-captured performance as Robbie the Monkey) in a tone that strikes a precarious balance between wry self-deprecation and maudlin self-pity, the story itself is pretty generic stuff: a by-the-numbers trawl through the early hardship of Williams’s working-class childhood in Stoke-on-Trent, father-son tensions and industrial-level substance-abuse issues.
The film’s emotional beats — Williams’s doomed relationship with All Saints singer Nicole Appleton; the death of Robbie’s beloved nan — are hammered home with piledriver subtlety.
But the capering ape device transforms what would otherwise be a rote addition to the rock biopic canon, infusing the story with humor, mischief and a sparky, unpredictable anarchy.
Yes, Williams clearly takes himself pretty seriously and has a weakness for therapy-speak platitudes. But he also invites us to see him as a surly adolescent chimp in a shell suit. You have to love him for that.
Better Man is a notable step up for Gracey. The synthetic, rather soulless panache of The Greatest Showman demonstrated his skills as a slick visual stylist, but here he directs from the heart, tapping into the rawness and vulnerability beneath the CGI monkey suit.
In 1990, Amy Chen (陳怡美) was beginning third grade in Calhoun County, Texas, as the youngest of six and the only one in her family of Taiwanese immigrants to be born in the US. She recalls, “my father gave me a stack of typed manuscript pages and a pen and asked me to find typos, missing punctuation, and extra spaces.” The manuscript was for an English-learning book to be sold in Taiwan. “I was copy editing as a child,” she says. Now a 42-year-old freelance writer in Santa Barbara, California, Amy Chen has only recently realized that her father, Chen Po-jung (陳伯榕), who
When nature calls, Masana Izawa has followed the same routine for more than 50 years: heading out to the woods in Japan, dropping his pants and doing as bears do. “We survive by eating other living things. But you can give faeces back to nature so that organisms in the soil can decompose them,” the 74-year-old said. “This means you are giving life back. What could be a more sublime act?” “Fundo-shi” (“poop-soil master”) Izawa is something of a celebrity in Japan, publishing books, delivering lectures and appearing in a documentary. People flock to his “Poopland” and centuries-old wooden “Fundo-an” (“poop-soil house”) in
For anyone on board the train looking out the window, it must have been a strange sight. The same foreigner stood outside waving at them four different times within ten minutes, three times on the left and once on the right, his face getting redder and sweatier each time. At this unique location, it’s actually possible to beat the train up the mountain on foot, though only with extreme effort. For the average hiker, the Dulishan Trail is still a great place to get some exercise and see the train — at least once — as it makes its way
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