Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Robin Williams: Good Night, Clown Prince



The death of Robin Williams hit me between the eyes. He was just such an integral part of my young-adult years. I’ll always think of him as Mork from the planet Ork, looking at life on earth from a perspective both uniquely askew and consistently funny. (I’m sure I have those rainbow-striped suspenders around somewhere.)

Williams had many talents. But even he couldn’t do the impossible, like save a picture whose script is faulty. This lesson was brought home to me when my husband insisted we see 1990’s Cadillac Man. Sure, the reviews weren’t great, but with Robin Williams as star, how bad could it be? After surviving 97 minutes of lame attempts at zany humor, I learned a lesson I still share with my screenwriting students: without a strong script, even the best-cast film cannot fly.

Fortunately, most of Robin Williams’ projects were considerably better. My favorite period of his work ran from 1980 into the early 1990s, when he was blending offbeat humor with a satiric edge that managed to make a serious social comment. I remember Moscow on the Hudson (1984) and Good Morning Vietnam (1987) as both trenchant and hilarious. And his portrayal of a deranged homeless man in 1991’s The Fisher King (opposite the equally brilliant Jeff Bridges) is one I’ll long cherish. I can’t point to deep social meaning in his manic vocal performance as the genie in Aladdin (1992). But of all the Disney musicals this is the one that had me (along with my kids) singing and dancing outside Hollywood’s El Capitan Theatre, so delighted were we with the sheer antic exuberance of it all.

I admired the touching Dead Poets Society (1989), with its belief in the written word as well as the nobility of the teaching profession, though its “seize the day” message was undeniably heavy-handed. And this film seemed to send Williams in a direction I didn’t much appreciate: toward movies that reeked of sentimentality. I’m perhaps alone in the world in disliking 1997’s Good Will Hunting. (I do, though, admire the smarts of screenwriters Matt Damon and Ben Affleck for adding to their screenplay what they originally called the Harvey Keitel part. Here’s how film historian Peter Biskind describes it: “They tailored the part of the therapist to a Hollywood star, any star, gave him the best lines, made it small so he could fit it into his schedule.”  The role would have worked for Morgan Freeman or Meryl Streep, but ultimately Williams was cast as the bereaved but still funny therapist, and won an Oscar.) The next year, he starred in an even more egregiously schmaltzy film, Patch Adams, about a doctor who plays the clown to cheer up his dying patients. I had the misfortune of seeing it (over and over) in a hospital waiting room while a family member’s surgical procedure dragged on.

Three decades ago, I was writing a magazine story about a Hollywood branch of the famous Paul Sills improv troupe, which included such lively second bananas as Avery Schreiber, Hamilton Camp, Richard Libertini, and Dick Schaal. For these talented eccentrics, the challenge was finding a way to work together, spontaneously spinning a story out of the wispiest of materials. At one performance, the newly famous Robin Williams was announced as a special guest. Of course he proved remarkably quick and inventive. But he was not a team player, instinctively pulling focus from those who shared his spotlight. It was his destiny, I guess, to go it alone. Perhaps the price of being Robin Williams was just too high to bear.  



8 comments:

  1. Actually, Beverly, I agree with you about Good Will Hunting.

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  2. Thanks, Carl. I can't remember the details now, but something about the way a leading character was accepted into Stanford at the end of the film struck me as totally bogus -- not at all in touch with the realities of university life. Then, of course, there were Williams' character's saccharine but unconvincing memories of his deceased wife: I just didn't believe any of that.

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  3. It started for me with the first visit on Happy Days, an alien from out of this world... Have I enjoyed everything he has done, no not by a longshot... with his career there was something for everyone. I am thrilled I knew him, knowing his work... his talent. thank you.

    Jeremy

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  4. I appreciate your input, Jeremy. When I look at Robin Williams' filmography, I keep finding things I'd forgotten: like that grim, grey little man in One Hour Photo. No question that he was an actor as well as a clown, but it's the clown side of him that I'll really miss. The world seems a bit grimmer and greyer today.

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  5. Oh, his darker side on the film front... first two that come to mind is Death of Smoochy and One Hour Photo. I worked in a photo lab and that film OHP came out and we had to send out a statement and post to all of our customers... to assure them we were not "not" taking or abusing their personal photos... he will always have a place in my heart/head as a comedian... and his work with Terry Gilliam's "Adventures of Baron Munchausen" and "The Fisher King"... awesome!

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  6. Awesome indeed. I can imagine, Jeremy, that the conviction he brought to his One Hour Photo role did not make your life in a photo lab any easier!

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  7. I certainly enjoyed Mork and Mindy as a kid, and any number of his other performances through the end of the 20th century. However, in recent years I found myself wincing at his appearances nearly anywhere - as his constantly "on" shtick was starting to get a little threadbare. And, I too did not enjoy his schmaltzy work - as you mentioned - and to which I will add Bicentennial Man and What Dreams May Come - movies I avoided like the plague. Finally, I was extremely displeased that he took that Best Supporting Actor Oscar in the year when it should have gone to either Burt Reynolds for Boogie Nights or Robert Forster for Jackie Brown.

    Maybe a little rough on someone who has just passed - but there you go. I will end on a high note - one of his high notes - his wonderful performance in The World According to Garp.

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  8. I was rooting for Burt Reynolds that year. (I hadn't yet seen Jackie Brown but now I'm a big Forster fan, for work stretching from Reflections in a Golden Eye to The Descendants.) You know, I've neither read nor seen the film version of The World According to Garp. By the way, this evening I heard a replay of Terry Gross's Fresh Air interview with Williams: fascinating stuff. Among other things, she asked about depression, and he denied having any sort of problem in that department.

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