Allegedly setting out to make a warts 'n' all expose of 'the real Robbie', but with IE Music Management and Williams himself retaining ultimate editorial control, Brian Hill's film - part concert flick, part character study - inevitably does little to unravel the enigma.
The singer presents himself for the most part as a truly tortured soul, beginning the tour in Stockholm in a black depression that only gets worse as the entourage makes its way through Scandinavia. Berating his talents - he hates his songs, he likens his dancing to Tourette's Syndrome - it's hard not to be affected by his anguish, even if he is, after all, there because he chooses to be.
It is impossible, however, not to feel slightly manipulated as Williams' mood swings from suicidal to elated, contrite to cheeky, superstar stroppy to knowingly arch. Is this for real, or is it just playing to the gallery?
At times it seems that even Williams isn't entirely sure. This unevenness of tone is further compounded by a script by Hill that veers from the cheesily melodramatic to the downright banal, building to an eminently dissatisfying conclusion that simply does not work in artistic terms.
Still, there is nevertheless much to enjoy, even if you're not a Robbie fan. The moments of genuine 'celeb behaviour' are priceless, as are several sequences that have more than a bit of the Spinal Taps about them - not least thanks to Hill's reverent approach (Robbie plays Uno!; Robbie composes a song for his gran!; Robbieà buys a sofa!).
Interspersed with all this is grainy black and white footage of the concerts themselves, which is as entertaining as you would expect it to be - if nothing else, Williams is without doubt the consummate performer. Groundbreaking stuff this certainly is not, but as vanity projects go, it's more fun than most.