Sometimes, you don’t quite know how much you appreciated somebody until they’ve gone. That much is evident in the response to the untimely and shocking death of the renowned actor and comedian Robin Williams, which has been emotionally overwhelming, and yet entirely understandable.
Messages, from fans and collaborators alike, have been flooding in on social media, as the Oscar-winning star’s passing appears to have affected everybody. For most of us, we didn’t know Williams personally, and never had the fortune of meeting him. Yet many have admitted they cried at the tragic news. Such was his connection with people.
There was just something about this man, his distinct ability to effortlessly move between comedy and drama, with a vulnerability to match a distinguishable eccentricity. Like many comic performers, he would wear his heart on his sleeve, and behind the vivacious, infectious energy, there was a fragility of sorts, and it allowed for audiences to form a special and somewhat unique affinity with the actor.
For those who grew up in the 80s and 90s, there’s a really special bond, born out of that inherent admiration only a child can show towards an actor, which creates a lifelong warmth towards somebody, as their very presence takes you back to a more simple, blissful time. But it’s by no means a generational thing, as his comedy transcends demographics, being an accessible brand that has universal appeal.
From his breakthrough role in Mork and Mindy, it was evident this man had a special talent, and it was a talent he would soon take with him to the silver screen, where his popularity rose tremendously, and where his career eventually was defined. That vitality served him well in the classic Good Morning, Vietnam before he then flexed his dramatic muscles with a stunning turn in Dead Poet’s Society.
Then his deft – if somewhat daft – comic touch took precedence, with a host of memorable performances, and an illuminating screen presence that ensured the films he starred in were Robin Williams films – and nobody else was even remotely comparable. He brought heart to the Genie in Aladdin, and his range of comic talents lent themselves perfectly to the wonderful Mrs. Doubtfire.
Plus he always had this playful nature, and a wholesomeness that allowed for him to play roles in Hook, Jumanji and Jack. He was like the kid who never grew up, in the most endearing way imaginable. But when he did, he sure could be harrowing and chilling: making for a terrific antagonist in the likes of One Hour Photo and Insomnia – completely stealing the screen in the latter, despite starring opposite Al Pacino.
Williams’ death is just tragic, and much like Philip Seymour Hoffman earlier in the year, you still feel he had so much more to give. When playing Mrs. Doubtfire – one of his funniest roles – in a rare moment of poignancy, he said, “If there’s love dear, those are the ties that bind… All my love to you, poppet, you’re going to be alright”, well for this man there’s a breathtaking amount of love, and his immense catalogue of work is to be bound to us forever – and he couldn’t have left behind a more generous gift.