He wasn’t always on.
That’s the one description of Robin Williams I’ve read this week that doesn’t quite ring true.
When he was on, he was on like no one else – an arsenal of one-liners, jokes, impressions, physical comedy coming at you in a Russian-accented, Jewish-flavored, Scottish-highlighted, short, hairy, blue cartoon tornado. You were swept away in laughter.
And we did laugh – all of us. The outpouring at the news of his suicide has been higher than anything I’ve ever seen – everyone seems to have weighed in with memories of inspiring speeches and off-the-cuff comedic genius. The depth of our connection to him was deeper than anyone would have suspected a week ago.
If you find yourself in darkness, there are people out there with lights. Start with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – 1-800-273-8255.
We all thought of our favorite moments and characters – the brash DJ Adrian Cronauer from “Good Morning, Vietnam” and the genie from “Aladdin” were mine, but I’d always watch him be Dr. Maguire in “Good Will Hunting” or the title character from “Mrs. Doubtfire.”
The unfiltered Williams was like a drug – two hours (that filmed for five) of him Inside the Actor’s Studio, or onstage Live at the Met – felt like pure dopamine channeled into the brain.
Seeing the spitfire spiels with a comeback for every occasion, it did seem like he was always on, that there was a neverending fountain of quips and tricks inside him somewhere, relentlessly spilling out joy.
It was the moments in between that were the difference, though. After watching something enough times, you knew the lines well enough to not laugh with your head thrown back and eyes closed, instead smiling like you were seeing an old friend again.
Then, you started to see the quiet moments, where he’d take a breath and look around, wondering if the audience was happy and if the constant damn noise in his head would be silent for just a second.
He learned how to at least partially channel that weariness and quiet need for peace – adding human moments to the comedic avalanches, and wearing it as a skin in his award-winning dramatic roles - but it wasn’t enough. He tried quieting it with drugs and booze – and that wasn’t enough.
If you find yourself in darkness, there are people out there with lights. Start with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – 1-800-273-8255.