Robin (2018)

Just finished the book on Robin Williams written after his death by Dave Itzkoff. I had read it once before, maybe during COVID. It feels helpful to read about a complicated artist whose comedy had such an impact on so many people. I can’t even say I was always a fan. Like many people, I jumped on the making-fun-of Robin Williams bandwagon because of shows like Family Guy. Or impressions of him. It’s hard to remember how many shows made fun of him in general. And my stepdad once said of a late night appearance of his, that Robin Williams was obnoxious and impossible to withstand. So, I adopted that same belief, like I was in solidarity with my stepdad. I remember him changing the channel, and me asking him to go back a sec more. And when I decided in middle school that I was gonna be a serious actor, I remember looking at Robin Williams as a bad actor. Someone to not model after, because I was going to be serious and more believable. And even today, I have not seen all of his movies. Jumanji, Happy Feet, Aladdin, Good Will Hunting, Flubber, and The Fisher King are my favorites.

But when he died, in the way he died, something weird happened. Like the book suggests, it happened for everyone: his work took on an even more dramatic quality. Suddenly, he wasn’t sappy, he was profoundly earnest. And all the sadness in his characters’ eyes carried much more pain. Like there was a level of pain behind those blues that was at once treacherous and unfathomable. Years ago, I started making more of an effort to watch his movies and I saw a few I hadn’t heard of, but very much enjoyed. Like Awakenings and Worlds Greatest Dad, One Hour Photo and Dead Poets Society. I still need to see many others, but his work, repeatedly aired on TV when I was little. I always caught some part of Patch Adams, the end of Jack, parts of Good Morning Vietnam!, and Jumanji especially. And Hook, too. He’s just a guy who was in the air growing up, and I remember always knowing it would be a good family movie if he was the star of it. In the last ten years, since my mission of placing in top drama programs has kicked into full drive, I’ve gone and looked at interviews of him, and stopped often to see viral clips of his, or compilation videos of him on YouTube.

There is something about the way he moved through life that feels aspirational for an actor at my level. He was quick and smart, he was sensitive and generous. He was bold, he could go places that felt edgy, but win crowds with his presence and charm. His act was like a real clown’s, which feels dangerous because the clown risks being completely unfunny, until he gets you. He could transform into different characters. He was a star, and a unique one. I also watched his HBO doc. Come Inside My Mind (2018) and loved seeing him be born from the hippy 60’s. He was cool and he was counter-culture. He was wise and had known deep loneliness. He had it all as an artist and he found ways to funnel all of it into the work of performing. A performer, entertainer, etc. It’s not enough to be damaged, he had the ability to use his voice to create compelling characters, jokes, and stories. His work is layered in skill, even in an improvised set. His joy for performing is contagious and fun to watch. Even his last special, after all the “obnoxiousness” that was tagged onto him, it has a really funny closing joke where he’s talking about eating out a woman in his 50’s. Its really funny and real. An entire career of great work, against failure and struggle, is incredible. Its miraculous. It took bravery to commit and keep working, even though there were tons of people who spoke negatively about some of his projects. I was weirdly happy for him (for his spirit’s sake), that in his last years he had a local theater he could pop into just for the community of stand-up. He really loved what he did and enjoyed doing it for whoever wanted to see him perform.

Of course, by the time you read that his assistant found him hanging it is viscerally painful. Reading the book, you follow his ups and downs, triumphs and embarrassing failures, and to see him degenerate, from an aggressive dementia, into this lonely and suicidal hellhole—it’s tragic. He was only 60-something, but he lost so much weight that I thought he was much older in the clips. His last acting credits show him looking smaller than is possible for someone who used to be so big, who had an amazing Shakespearean character for example. The book makes you feel like you know him. It’s very detailed and well done, and it gives you what feels like an accurate perception of who he was and how people saw him. He was an artist who was misunderstood. If he did well, it was like he somehow managed to do well, but if something lost money at the box office or received bad reviews, it was almost like, “Well, there he goes again. Trying too hard.” As soon as he was famous, he had these polar opposite kind of reviews. Even his stand-up was criticized for not always being “joke” funny. His albums had the same element of sweet philosophy that is sometimes just disregarded as sentimentality. If he wasn’t stand-out funny in a movie, then he was underutilized, but if he tried to inject his brand of comedy into scenes, he was too much and needed to be reined in. Its weird. It would have been nice if we could’ve all sent him a video on his deathbed, sharing our love and expressing our gratitude. Maybe thats not a part of it for entertainers. He gets the money and that ends the transaction.

For me, his work in the 90’s had the most impact, but many comedians site Mork from the late 70’s, and his records from the 70’s/80’s, as having a lot of influence on them. He was a talented guy and very smart. He had all these interesting things to say about why he chose certain projects or wanted to do certain characters. He really had a voice as an actor and that feels especially necessary today. In a world where Spider-Man loves Samsung, and Kevin Hart manages to book the most commercials ever, it feels like that artistic voice has shifted away from actors. A lot of them feel like hired mercenaries for the sake of the Director’s vision, like it’s just a blue collar job. Or they're obligated to whoever’s writing their checks and feeding them. Maybe that’s just business as usual. Robin had a lot of projects he took for the money. Stand-up comedy is in an interesting place today because if you can say something true and interesting, then you can get people to follow you on social media. Even if you fuck it up later. And with touring and podcasting, you can eke out a market for yourself. Shane Gillis doing that Tires show, and Bill Hader doing Barry, are these interesting side quests that feel provocative. Because those guys at the creative helm almost assures the shows as having more time to share, even more, point of view. Chris Rock has a new movie he wrote and directed coming out soon that sounds interesting, and its interesting partly because he’s mostly a comedian/performer, but with a point of view that is unique. Other comedians talk about him as being a wise mentor as an example. When people have that much to say, I automatically buy into their new work as having value. I (rightly/wrongly) trust there’s a real craftsperson in charge. I mean why did Monet paint so many haystacks and lilies, right? There’s a compelling wisdom there even if I don’t understand it. And sometimes its just interesting to see the brushstrokes that went into making the piece. John Mulaney’s Broadway Show and various side projects are cool, too. And David Spade! His show, before the pandemic, was awesome! It felt like he was doing a male version of celebrity gossip, or an extension of his Hollywood Minute segment from SNL.

I sobbed when reading that Robin did his first play on Broadway and was snubbed for a Tony nomination. I mean he handled that with such grace and professionalism. Even his cast and crew believed he should’ve gotten it. One cast member was truly upset, and crying himself, over what seemed to him, and everyone on the show, as disrespect. Robin was in this weird corner of entertainment where some people would be appreciating his gifts, even in his last years, but some other people in the industry couldn’t find enough reason to support him. Maybe that’s the comedian’s curse? I also loved that story of Bill Murray’s, who lost his chance at the Oscar in 2004, but who was comforted by Robin afterwards. Robin reassured him his day would come, and that had Murray crying, years later, at the news of Robin’s death. Robin was just that guy. He’d go out of his way to say a nice thing to you even if he didn’t have to. Such a beautiful wealth of generosity that you don’t hear about a lot. Maybe Robin wasn’t very outspoken about it his philanthropy at the time though, and it’s just the nature of life that we find out after they’re gone. Henry Winkler and David Alan Grier come to mind, however, as other greats who show a lot of warmth and generosity, and are still here. But artists are more available to us than ever before, so…idk. Robin was definitely in a showbiz transition period. he had a lot of money. The book reveals through an offhand quote that says, Robin paid for private school for all of his personal staff’s kids, and friends’ kids too! Nowadays, actors are these weird business people with brands and ulterior motives. Are they gonna be on billboards soon, or do they want an Oscar? How much money are they gonna need to feed their family? How often will I see their face on my phone? On a spectrum from Robin Williams to Harvey Weinstein, showbiz takes all kinds.

And Robin was outspoken as a Democrat, which is refreshing, because he found ways to make it funny. Maybe it’s quaint because we’ve never been so polarized, in recent history, but he didn’t pretend to know everything. He spoke from the heart and used jokes, even throwaway quick jokes in interviews, to poke fun at the logic behind conservative talking points. When he did his shows for the troops, he made fun of Bush, the guy responsible for our being there in the first place. He did what great comedians do, he won them over with universal jokes they’d like, and then sneak in his jabs at the president. But he ended it with his reassurance to the troops that Americans, on the whole, were grateful for their service. He reminded them that people back home were thinking of them. A lot of artists seem to be prioritizing their ambition to catch a lucky break, but he looked out for the soulful stuff. And maybe he had the luxury to do that because of all his money, but regardless, it’s noble. All that money means he didn’t have to go over there, but he probably was energized by all the love and gratitude the troops gave back to him. Maybe artists keep that kind of volunteer work private nowadays. I enjoyed the short documentary that Adam Driver did about his volunteer theater work with the military. Maybe Robin’s work wasn’t so well known to people until after he’d done the USO tours, and talked about them. It’s just weird to me that people don’t promote themselves more in that regard. Why do I know about the Riyadh comedy festival more than the philanthropic stuff? Wait hold on…this just came in over the wire…ALGO…ALGO-DuRYTHMS…Oh nooooooooooooooooooooo…(Piano* dundunDun).

I had too much coffee…breaky time! Teehee!

I’m back baby! I don’t know if there’s anything else I want to say about Robin, nothing else from the book really comes to mind. He was a huge toy collector and talked about how in his childhood he’d play with toy soldiers a lot. I related to that. And I relate to his shyness and his mania on stage. People have characterized me in similar ways. Not skill-wise, obviously. There are specific parts to him that I see in myself. I was listening to a fortune teller on YouTube, and she said she was communicating with someone who could be an actor like Robin Williams. Which I heard as I was dozing off. And my ex told me in an audition, from which I was called back, that I reminded her, without me trying, of Robin. Which really made me emotional and cry. Also, I once was sulking about a difficult part I was in at school, and Happy Feet was on. And after some complaining and self-pity, we were watching, and just hearing Robin I said something like, “Man I’d love to be great like him, he’s so funny and soulful,” because that movie has this amazing tone shift from silliness to climate change awareness. And as we see the credits roll on a movie that still maintains its poignancy, we see my name in the credits. Matthew Ferro. And I completely forgot that the reason I don’t have my name as a website is because theres a DP who shares my name, has a website, and worked on Happy Feet. So, yeah…it felt like a spiritual moment. Not eerie or funny, but reassuring and beautiful. The only one of his I’ve seen more than Jumanji is Good Will Hunting, and both feel very important to me. My dad reminds me of Robin, they’re both these hairy guys with innocence and vulnerability behind their eyes and in their smiles. And I remember watching Jumanji at the nursing home my grandfather was dying in, while my father consoled him, making sure he was comfortable. I remember empathizing with my struggling dad, who looked like Robin struggling in the swamp, and in my dad’s own way was trying to pull his family out of the water. Like Robin does to get away from the crocodiles in that scene. It made me cry and I couldn’t explain why. There was a similarity that these men had as people pulling, with all their strength, to save their loved ones from fearful depth, as rain and water drenched them in overwhelming torrents.

And Good Will Hunting has helped to comfort me many times. Robin is like a father figure there, too. Cutting through the bullshit and fighting to protect a kid who’s dealing with the trauma of physical abuse. I think that movie holds up mostly because of how noble and realistic Robin’s characters comes across. My trauma didn’t, at all, look like Will’s, but I felt as a kid that I didn’t have anyone to stand up for me against my bullies. Robin’s performance represented a need, I could somewhat verbalize, to feel protected. I was taught it was my responsibility to fight for myself or ignore mean people. The movie is about finding what it is your heart wants and following it, instead of focusing on all the noise from inside, or outside, of you. There’s a moment where Will starts focusing on mathematics and Robin’s character pushes him even more. Which seems to say that even doing something you’re naturally good at isn’t the same as doing it because you want to do it. Their relationship becomes a safe place for Will to figure out what’s really important to him. A foundation he can have to be himself. And then, of course, he leaves to pursue a stronger relationship with his girlfriend, instead of the full-time math job. Special movie. Thank you Robin Williams. You’re work has had a lasting impact on me, and you are a large part of why I love movies and want to be an actor. RIP

Rolling Ferro