a kate west tribute
No, I never met him, never knew him. But, like so many others lately, I keep thinking about him. Even dreaming about him. And it's not that far-fetched that I might have met him. I used to live in Los Angeles and used to work in the improv world, where you can meet lots of I-knew-them-whens (I met Eddie Izzard, for instance, OK well when he was actually famous and I also knew lots of other "befores" but never mind that now). Still, only friends and family can mourn him in a specifically personal way. Right? Then why are the rest of us still so sad?
I think because he was always there. Since our childhoods. We didn't think about him all the time but if he showed up suddenly (like in a recent episode of "Louie") it was like seeing an old friend. And even when he made terrible movies (you know which ones), it was still delightful to watch him just be him. Or even when scripted, being someone else, doing it with his classic 100% commitment. And oh, those powerful performances ("The World According to Garp", "Dead Poets Society", "Good Morning, Vietnam" etc.), they were from the heart, direct from him to you. Not everyone with that impressive an imagination can deliver sincerity, but he had such a huge soul that boy did it shine through.
Sometimes he was hard to work with (apparently), but only because he couldn't be contained. It was impossible to completely reign in that spontaneity, and the humanity in the heart of the audience loves the unexpected. And God, he was funny. Mind-blowing to think he made it all up on the spot. And could go on for hours. Unstoppable. No wonder he was the best genie ever.
And also because he was supposed to have been nice. Been really sweet. Which always makes watching celebrities that much, well, nicer. Like Carol Burnett. And he loved the Bay Area. And bicycles (who could hold that against him?) But mostly, because 63 is too damn young to snuff out a talent giant, in any circumstances. The tragic method gave the headline an exclamation point, but it would have been headlines, regardless. The man was beloved, as apparent from the outpouring of grief from his peers and then everyone else. We're all still talking about him after all. Reading the tributes, catching up on his old interviews, and of course re-watching his classics.
I too have been binge-watching his movies lately and noticed many of them have morbid references - some throw-away line about death or suicide, mortality or heaven. Haven't gotten through all of them yet, so don't have an official tally. But it's interesting, in light of the now. Who knew that he carried so much with him? I mean at least the general public didn't know. Maybe friends and family didn't know it all. We never know it all, do we? Yes, comedians can be sad. Even miserable. Angry. There's that whole Pagliacci thing. Not to stereotype. But still ....
As many Facebookers posted, "This one hurts." Gentle Mork is gone. He could play dark so well ("One Hour Photo") but really shone at innocence ("Hook", "Popeye"). The man child who was supposedly so shy IRL but was always, always nice.
He could do delight and wonder so very well.
My favorite is "The Birdcage", which seemed like unusual casting at the time and now seems so perfect. The irrepressible Robin Williams let Nathan Lane steal the show, while still being brilliantly funny as the understated club owner. He played against Gene Hackman, for God's Sake. And against Robert DeNiro in "Awakenings", always holding his own.
And I really loved him being the father who would do anything for his kids ("Mrs. Doubtfire"). Such a ridiculous premise made pure just by the conviction of that nanny (not unlike Dustin Hoffman as "Tootsie" - commitment will get you a long way).
It was obvious he loved what he did.
Until recently. I guess. He radiates unhappiness in some of his more recent work ("The Big Wedding"), at least to me.
But what do I know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that. I do know that it's possible to miss someone you've never met, but still feel you know. I also know he influenced many and brought joy to countless others. He was a definite force in this world and his absence sucks. There is nothing else to say.
From on January 29, 2001: James Lipton asks Robin Williams: "If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?"
Williams: "There's seating at the front. The concert begins at five. It'll be Mozart, Elvis and one of your choosing. If heaven exists, to know that there's laughter, that would be a great thing … just to hear God go, 'Two Jews walk into a bar…' "