Oh, wow. I don’t even know how to process this. I thought Michael Jackson was hard.
There are some people who, when they go, they take all of what defined them with them. And all of the Robin Williamsness in the world has been unceremoniously ripped down like a homecoming dance backdrop on Saturday morning.
We’ve sodomized the word genius to the point that it doesn’t mean much in casual conversation, but reach back with me to what it used to mean. Robin Williams was one of those kinds of geniuses. I mean, I hate to start naming things I loved about him, because that invariably minimizes someone of his magnitude. Undisputed king of improv, never to be deposed? Check. Oscar-winning master of drama, capable of a full range of evocation from tender to terrifying? Check. Anything artistic I ever saw asked of him? Check.
(Name a Robin Williams dud. Whether you have five seconds or five years, your list will look the same. Want to see it? Look at the ceiling.)
And just in case I wasn’t clear above, I’m not going to name specific works, because there are too many.
I say this not because I believe it’s true, but because it’s one of the greatest compliments I ever received. When I was in college, someone told me at a party that I reminded her of Robin Williams in the way my mind worked, and how quickly I could retort. I was blown away to have drawn such a comparison. I sort of understood it, because sometimes I can unclench enough to let my mind run unchecked stream of consciousness and follow the connections at kind of a meta-level.
But it’s still not anything like breaking down a Robin Williams stream. On a post-examination, I can see where the chains are and how he came up with them, but I’m still truly astonished at how quickly everything fired for him. That circuitry in the brain of Robin Williams ran at double- or triple-time. At my best, I can capture some of “semi-competent hack.”
I’m so sad that his demons were ultimately too much for him. God be with his friends and family. RIP.
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My husbands FB post:
So sad about Robin Williams. Many comedians battle depression and addiction, but they manage to turn their coping mechanism into a successful career. All too often, though, the tide of their demons is right behind them waiting for a moment of weakness.
I think he said it well.
I heard one point made on the TV today that had never crossed my mind, and was blown away when it finally did: Robin Williams was such a legendary comedian, especially in his stand up, and yet he is one of the few who did it all without having to be mean or insult anyone.
I saw him in concert at Virginia Tech. The opening act was a blues musician (Steady Rollin’ Bob Margolin), which I thought at first was a pretty stupid idea to open for a comedian. Then Robin Williams came out early with a harmonica and jammed with Margolin, and it was awesome!
Marianne, I agree. Lea and I were talking last night and she pointed out that for some people, depression is the sole definer of their lives. It’s like they’re in a spaceship constantly trying to stay off a gas giant that’s pulling them down, and they have to fire rockets to stay off it, and those are the terms on which they perceive the world. Sadly, sometimes they run out of fuel.
Tahm, he would make occasional barbs, but not mean and nasty ones. I remember him picking on Ronald Reagan in A Night at the Met, and al.com reported that he took several political shots (across the spectrum) at his last show in Birmingham in 2009.
Miria, that sounds great. I never saw him, though when sadly invited to consider the question, it’s amazing how many wonderful moments he’s given me.
I’ve thought more than once today about a story Roger Ebert told about encountering John Candy in a hotel bar. He sat and talked to him for a good while. Roger Ebert asserted that John Candy was basically playing himself in Planes, Trains & Automobiles. He never felt good about himself, and was always questioning his value to the world. He openly wondered how much of his acclaim was genuine, and how much he was being patronized.
There’s already more public psychoanalysis going on than I care for, so I’m not going to add significantly to it. I was struck, though, with how true that story rings when I consider the sad end of the life of Robin Williams. I even thought of Paul Stanley a bit, and what I learned about him when I read his excellent autobiography.
These seem to be people who are enormous engines of joy for those around them, who once the house lights come up, tragically need every ounce of strength they have to keep from going over the cliff.
I have taken a week to review the media’s responses to Robin Williams death and like so many it feels almost very personal.
Anyone can either be affected directly by depression or know someone close who is…Rich, poor, black, white, young, old, women or men, Atheist, Christian etc. We all go through those dark seasons in our lives that can go from bad to worse. From a temporary setback, to feeling low, too tired to get out of bed. Is there a under lying biochemical cause that a slow depression creeps up on you and before you know it you are oppressed by morbid despair. Perhaps, this was the case with Robin Williams. He may of learned early on that his “gift of manic voices” could ironically bring happiness to others and himself. Unfortunately, over time, the biochemistry could no longer support his marvelous “gift”. Then the old trite saying started to occur, “what goes up must come down”. Feeling cornered and thus fatigued – suicide seems like the only way out…But It Is Not (the Way Out).
Thanks, Dr. Fred, and you’re so right. It’s scary and thought-provoking to consider that what fueled the humor of Robin Williams might not be so different from what fueled his despair.