Robin Williams, Silenced

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Robin Williams was someone whose manic comedy style I never connected with, and I gave it repeated attempts.  From his first appearance in meeting The Fonz (Henry Winkler) on Happy Days (left)*, which led to his star-making role in “Mork & Mindy”,  I recognized Williams was clever and mentally and verbally hyperactive, but I just didn’t find him as funny as other people did.   I found him much more watchable in dramatic movie roles, like the ones in “The World According to Garp”, “The Dead Poets Society”, “Awakenings”, “The Fisher King,” and “Good Will Hunting”, for which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar®.  A big exception is the animated feature, “Aladdin”, where Williams, the character of the genie, and Disney animator Eric Goldberg made for a perfect convergence (Alan Menken’s music didn’t hurt, either).  Oh, and I liked him in “Mrs. Doubtfire”, which I watched recently.  In his first starring role in a feature film, Williams clearly gave it all he had in Robert Altman’s 1980 musical “Popeye” and his performance was much better than the movie.

Williams seemed much more interested in making people laugh than he was in letting people see what he was really about.  Outside of TV and movie roles, I’ve only seen him two ways, “on” or very subdued.  He’d interrupt talk show interviews to go into his standup/ad-lib act, which always gave me the impression he was uncomfortable just being himself and preferred hiding behind characters when he was in public.

I hadn’t really followed his career lately and found it odd when I saw commercials promoting his TV series, The Crazy Ones on CBS.  I read he did the series because he needed the money, which I again found odd until I realized he was paying two alimonies.  When I later read the series ­was not renewed after its first full season, I felt disappointed for Williams.  Even though I didn’t watch the show, I’m sure Williams gave it everything he had.  The show had a 7.1 IMDB rating and, given more time, may have connected with a bigger audience (It took Seinfeld until its fourth season to really connect with its audience).  Television is a brutal business.

When you read or hear about responses to Williams’ suicide, the reaction you most often come across is shock or surprise.  For me, it all added up, and I don’t feel good in saying that.  I watched a 1980’s interview where Jonathan Winters (left, with his Mork & Mindy c0-stars Williams and Pam Dawber), a brilliant ad-libber and Williams’ biggest inspiration, talked about how he himself had moments when he contemplated suicide.  I also read an interview of Jack Lemmon, another person who excelled at making people laugh (and was equally good in dramatic roles), where he said he went into deep depressions whenever he was not working.  In both instances, I was surprised and deflated by the realization that guys that were so good at making me laugh were themselves unhappy people.  Similarly, I watched a TV special narrated by Luci Arnaz where she said that, as much as her mother Lucille Ball made people laugh, she was very quiet and serious in private and nothing like her on-screen persona.

In retrospect, I think a reason I didn’t appreciate Williams in his hyperactive comedy mode is that I felt I was watching someone whose need to entertain seemed almost desperate.  I guess you could say that about a lot of (or even most) actors and comedians, but with Williams it just seemed very pronounced.  It worked out well, though.  Williams’ relationship with his fans was symbiotic; they needed to laugh and he needed to make them laugh.

Had I not found out comedy legends Jonathan Winters, Jack Lemmon and Lucille Ball were themselves personally unhappy people, I likely would not have been concerned for Williams when his TV show got cancelled.  I felt bad enough when I read about his reason for doing the show.  My gut reaction to its cancellation braced me for what happened.  That doesn’t prevent it from being tragic, saddening and hard to believe.

Beyond his work in movies and TV, Williams’ generosity and big heart have to be acknowledged for his work with Comic Relief, The Christopher and Dan Reeve Foundation, the LiveStrong Foundation, St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital, and other charities.  He also performed in front of U.S. troops in 13 countries during his USO tours.  I’m sure all those military personnel really appreciated and will never forget those shows.

Williams’ passing will resonate for quite some time.  I get the feeling I’ll have a deeper appreciation for his talent when I go back and look at his comic performances.   Funny how that works.

In the words of Joni Mitchell, “You don’t know what you’ve got till t’s gone.”

Rest in Peace, Robin Williams.

DPW

August 17, 2014

* Here’s Williams’ first TV appearance on Happy Days with Henry Winkler:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHWXAJhmvyU

Here’s a clip of Williams and Winters together on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NqEKvk9F4I

I wrote this piece before the articles documenting Williams’ depression and diagnosis of early Parkinson’s came out, but I’m not going to add it to what I’ve written, although I guess I alluded to depression, or at least its symptoms.  I just wanted to comment on my take on Williams in acknowledging his tragic passing.

I have to mention the August 12 passing of Lauren Bacall.  When Elizabeth Taylor passed away, articles said she was the last Hollywood star, which wasn’t accurate.   Angela Lansbury is a contemporary of Bacall’s but had nowhere near Bacall’s star power and presence, which were evident in Bacall’s first screen performance in Howard Hawks’ 1944 “To Have and Have Not.”  Bacall was special but, unlike big stars like Monroe, Taylor and Garland, she always came across as being very grounded and savvy.  With Bacall’s passing, we’ve now witnessed the end of an era and the last of Old Hollywood’s movie stars.

I’m looking forward to the inevitable marathon and well-deserved celebration of Bacall movies that Turner Classic Movies will likely schedule in the near future.  At the top of the list of the movies I’m looking forward to seeing is the 1947 San Francisco-set “Dark Passage.”

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