Robin Williams - 1951-2014

And did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage? 

--Roger Waters 

Like his first famous character, Robin Williams seemed to come out of nowhere in the late seventies when he appeared in an episode of "Happy Days" as a space alien in a dream Richie Cunningham had after thinking he'd seen a flying saucer (it turned out to be a weather balloon).  The zany, helium-voiced "Mork" from the planet Ork was only supposed to be a one-shot character, but he was so popular with TV viewers that "Happy Days" creator Garry Marshall built a whole sitcom around him.  "Mork and Mindy" debuted in the fall of 1978, and Robin Williams embarked on a career that was out of this world.

Williams, who committed suicide this week at 63, would go on to play numerous roles that made use of his boundless energy and his knack for improvisation, from the radio personality Adrian Cronauer in Good Morning, Vietnam to inspirational poetry teacher John Keating in Dead Poets Society.  He imbued these roles with pathos, and his ability to control and channel his energy allowed him to turn in memorable dramatic performances as a homeless man in The Fisher King and the sensitive therapist Dr. Maguire in Good Will Hunting, who advises the title character, a troubled, insecure genius played by Matt Damon.  

Williams, of course, turned out to be a troubled and insecure genius himself.  Though he could make people laugh and was generous in the time and support he lent to charity and to entertaining U.S. troops in war-torn regions, the wellspring of his comedy was a case of manic depression. The control he exhibited professionally in challenging roles in movies such as Mrs. Doubtfire and The Birdcage (the latter being one of the few American remakes of a French movie that critics liked) was absent in his personal life, and his bouts with manic depression showed how much of his comedy came from inner turmoil.  

Williams' death came at a tough time for him.  His CBS sitcom "The Crazy Ones" had just been canceled, and he had just been in rehab owing to a lifelong struggle with addiction.  The only good thing that can come out of his suicide is that people may realize how manic depression is  a serious condition that shouldn't be stigmatized and that anyone who suffers from it shouldn't be afraid to seek help.  But not even stardom makes the condition easier, and the ugly comments from certain conservative commentators about Williams in the wake of his death show how such a stigma endures.

Note:  While I may have recently said that Williams may have been past his peak professionally, I never meant to suggest that he was a spent force or that he had, in any way, "jumped the shark" (that phrase is another legacy of "Happy Days").  He was still enormously gifted, and talent is talent; he would always have it.  It's still there for all to see on TV, in the movies, and on the Internet, if only to remind us what a great loss this is.  R.I.P.