Tom Inglesby
When a legend dies, people dig into their memory vaults to find
something to say, something to recall that might be comforting to
others, something that puts them into the picture with the legend. Robin
Williams, a true legend in many media, died on Aug. 11, 2014 at the age
of 63.
I wish I could say I knew him; I didn’t. I saw him in a live performance
once, in the 1980s. I saw his work in several films, some more
memorable than others, at least to me. In reading the reviews and
comments online, his best films were apparently those I never saw: Mrs. Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society.
What I remember Williams for was some of the work that is easily
overlooked by the professional critics and commentators doing their best
to eulogize him. Remember him in Popeye? How about Awakenings?
The former showed his talent for facial comedy, the rubber face
approach; the latter gave him the chance to be both calm and excited, a
range that he pulled off admirably. Not great work but memorable.
His signature shout-out of “Good Morning, Vietnam!” will stick with you
forever if you ever served in that country. I was there months before
Adrian Cronauer, who Williams played—somewhat loosely I
understand—started on "Dawn Busters" on Armed Forces Radio, but the film
was a strong reminder of those days.
Williams hit another peak, in my mind, when he transitioned to killer in Insomnia.
Here he played so far against type that no one gave him a thought as
the villain; we expected him to end up another victim. Come on, this was
Robin Williams, not Jack Nicholson in The Shining. How can Peter Pan be a villain?
His acting, however, was only part of the man’s legacy. He won Grammy
Awards five times for Best Comedy, Best Children’s, and Best Spoken
Comedy recordings. I envied him since those were the categories where I
had nominations—without a win—in earlier times. But he deserved the
awards, just as he deserves the accolades being heaped on him after his
death.
What Robin Williams didn’t deserve is to get so depressed that he
considered suicide. He has four films in post and just finished a TV
series, The Crazy Ones. Why would such a respected and successful man be depressed? And why didn’t he listen to his own words: in World's Greatest Dad,
Williams’ character, Lance Clayton, said, "If you're that depressed,
reach out to someone. And remember: Suicide is a permanent solution to
temporary problems."
Did he reach out and find no one there? Will we ever know?
Robin Williams reportedly once said that if he finds himself in Heaven
one day, he hopes there will be laughter. If not, he’ll be providing it
now.
Our sincerest condolences go out to his family, friends, those who have
worked with him in the industry and his fans around the world who will
continue to honor his memory—through laughter on Earth.
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