I always thought it strange
to ask for autographs. But my mother gave me a book for them one Christmas.
Strange because my Mum knew a shit load of influential people and never paraded
any photos of her and ‘them’ in front of me. Even as an aspiring young actor I
couldn’t see the point. I actually met these people. And then actually worked
beside them! Why do I need a squiggle on a sheet of paper? Or God forbid the
2014 ‘Andy Warhol’ equivalent photo op of a ‘selfie’. Perhaps Rene Descartes on
acid: I digitize with them therefore I am. My Mum was actually,
cleverly preparing me for the world’s reality: that it is very hard to sparkle
in that great sea. Something I thought I’d surpassed her on but in realty has
always and will always be the same. Mr Williams would have chortled at that autograph
album with great affection for my Mum I am sure. When you see a
documentary about how being obsessed with a particular rock band or whoever
saved the participants lives I totally buy it. At least it beats drugs!
I remember watching Robin on a
UK talk show many years ago- was he happy, sad?- it is always hard to tell
because great talents just don’t indulge themselves like that. But he was tired,
jet-lagged maybe on something but then most probably maybe not. He was as sharp and funny, funny as sharp as
ever. He laughed at a pair of scissors. (This was the post 9/11 years. But
he was respectful and understanding if totally frustrated by the idiocy of it
all.) He didn’t say “oh btw did you pack the Islamic joke book yourself, sir?-
nor –‘I hear the ‘car bomb’ part isn’t that funny as they got the wiring wrong.
Had they never heard of someone called a joke writer?’
I remember Robin bouncing
down the center aisle stairs at the 1999 Deauville Film Festival to join the
very very great of Hollywood as they gathered on stage to be gaped at and
honored. He didn’t bounce to be noticed. Or different. It was, in truth, just
all a bit of a circus at the end of the day. But when the circus comes to town
it always makes people smile and gasp. I saw the Broadway revival of
Pippin. I thought of Robin at the ending. The illusion. The reality. The
something that you never want to take away from people’s dreams. And yet you
just know it may well never happen without dire consequences.
To my mind Robin’s greatest
film roles were One Hour Photo and World’s Greatest Dad. Both were
about the longingly perpetuated myth of family and belonging. When people say that Robin
Williams brought laughter and hope into people’s lives rather than despair it
is no truer than in these two films. World’s Greatest Dad isn’t about
cynicism it is about human hypocrisy. And how through exposing that one may
indeed find one’s true family and being. Not even the 'great Dad', though, is
portrayed to be without a sincerely self-serving streak.
You are now in a beautiful
place Robin. The world always disappointed you and yet the irony was that you
would have had absolutely nothing to say if the people were perfect. You would have
had 3.2 kids, 2 dogs and a BBQ every summer where you would all bitch and preen
and be happily, happily nothing. YOU was what people aspired to be. A free,
intelligent, irreverent yet respectful spirit. (Did I say rich: the very thing
you just were not that interested in. Unless a divorce came along;)
We will never make that movie
together now Robin. But does it matter? We already made it! The movie was there
always in our heads. And our hearts. And that is all that really matters in
this hilly world of beans that complains about whether the little 'bleeders' were baked or
organic. Just to be a bean. Now isn’t it?
The Daily Show Robin Williams survival Omnibus
Aladdin - Friend Like me
A whole new world
There is so so much wonderful
Mr Williams on the internet to cheer up everyone. But I forgot Terry Gilliam’s The Fisher King. If Robin Williams had only ever made one movie he would always
be remembered for this: its love, sincerity, lack of judgment, bravery. And you can’t help thinking that if someone had only asked Robin to
come to the park that tomorrow morning this week, given him $100 and asked if we could film him. Spending it, giving it to the bums, or to the birds, the plants: simply saying
hello to the world. He may have just said YES. He loved to work. To see. To
listen. What dreams may come…
The Fisher King (1991)
No comments:
Post a Comment