Robin Williams' death has hit us all extremely, incredibly hard, and that's just a fact. There's sadness and confusion and probably a whole bunch of "Mork and Mindy" marathons going on today, but you know what might be nice? To hear some beautiful words from Russell Brand, a man who actually has a bit in common with Robin. Russell has, like Robin, struggled with addiction and depression and being a famous funny person throughout all that. And that's why this essay he wrote about Robin is going to just rip your heart out and make you really think about all this.
Russell wrote about his impression of Robin's comedy:
"Robin Williams was exciting to me because he seemed to be sat upon a geyser of comedy. Like he didn’t manufacture it laboriously within but had only to open a valve and it would come bursting through in effervescent jets. He was plugged into the mains of comedy. I was aware too that this burbling and manic man-child that I watched on the box on my Nan’s front room floor with a Mork action figure (I wish I still had that, he came in a plastic egg) struggled with mental illness and addiction. The chaotic clarity that lashed like an electric cable, that razzed and sparked with amoral, puckish wonder was in fact harvested madness. A refinement of an energy that could turn as easily to destruction as creativity."
And his thoughts on the tragedy of his suicide:
"Poor Robin Williams, briefly enduring that lonely moment of morbid certainty where it didn’t matter how funny he was or who loved him or how many lachrymose obituaries would be written ... He obviously dealt with a pain that was impossible to render and ultimately insurmountable, the sentimentality perhaps an accompaniment to his childlike brilliance ... Robin Williams could have tapped anyone in the western world on the shoulder and told them he felt down and they would have told him not to worry, that he was great, that they loved him. He must have known that. He must have known his wife and kids loved him, that his mates all thought he was great, that millions of strangers the world over held him in their hearts, a hilarious stranger that we could rely on to anarchically interrupt, the all-encompassing sadness of the world. Today Robin Williams is part of the sad narrative that we used to turn to him to disrupt."
And finally, this touching closing:
"What I might do is watch Mrs Doubtfire. Or Dead Poets Society or Good Will Hunting and I might be nice to people, mindful today how fragile we all are, how delicate we are, even when fizzing with divine madness that seems like it will never expire."
This is going to be sad for a while, guys, but Russell's plan at the end there just might help a little.
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