Robbie Williams’ Docuseries: The Bad Boy of Pop just short of revealing all – literally.

Robbie Williams seeks to entertain us once more in his Netflix four- part docuseries. Williams reacts to behind-the-scenes footage of his rise, fall, and subsequent return back to stardom during his cycle of addiction and anxiety. Despite appearing before us in nothing but his underwear, Williams fails to understand that revealing his true self is not as simple. With a notable lack of other voices, Williams struggles to break away from his narcissistic characterisation by the British Press. As viewers we are left wanting to, but unable to fully empathise with the “natural born entertainer” - Williams’ own words, who simply cannot share the limelight.

The series, released on the 8^th December, begins by catapulting audiences into the world of Take That, with a sixteen year old Robbie clearly unprepared for the attention, and unable to handle all that comes with it. 

Williams speaks of how his excitement quickly turned to hatred, as he grew frustrated with Gary Barlow being styled as the main talent. Despite the stripped back Williams (literally) talking to us so openly, this does not create sympathy or pity as it is intended to. Instead, as he explains his hatred for Barlow to his daughter, he is painted as bitter and unlikeable, the jealous teenager he is trying to detach himself from, shining through.

The first three episodes follow William’s struggle with addiction and his declining mental health after becoming a solo artist. Whilst working with Guy Chambers to establish himself as a pop icon, Williams revealed he felt trapped and villainised by the British Press.

During his European and UK Tour, his anxiety spiralled, causing him to experience panic attacks on stage, making him terrified to return for the UK leg of the tour. 

Throughout the series, Williams describes his PTSD, but with no mention of childhood, upbringing, parents or relationships, it is impossible for audiences to connect with Williams on a personal level. 

Instead, his continuous descriptions of drug misuse and depression become blurred and make the episodes stagnant. The series is screaming out for input from external voices, which would allow us to build a picture of Williams as a man, not just a performer.

As the UK represented “hatred and a lack of safety” for Williams, it is no surprise that he seeked recovery in LA, where he now lives with wife Ayda Fields Williams and their four children.

Only in the final episode does the series have a glimpse of redemption. Ayda is invited to give her perspective, changing the dynamic from a monologue of despair, giving audiences a true insight into William’s private life.

We can see what Williams means when he calls Ayda a “life force”, she literally breathes life into this docuseries. 

Only then does Williams begin to achieve what he sets out to do; he separates himself from his stage persona. After meeting his wife at his lowest point, Williams gets clean, gets married, and creates music once more.

Creating a full circle moment, Williams tells viewers how his return to Take That in 2009 was a vital step in his journey to self-acceptance. 

After the final episode we can try to empathise with Williams, as his family’s involvement show him as a man whose priority is not simply making money but providing a life for his wife and children that they would be proud of.

I can’t say I would recommend the series as a whole. It feels exhausting to watch, and quite frankly is evidence as to why his relationships with Barlow and Chambers failed - he cannot share attention or praise. Put simply, I’m loving Beckham instead.