You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.
Robin Williams has died.
The hows and whys are still being sussed out, but when losing one of the world’s true geniuses, it’s debatable whether the hows and whys even matter in the least. Robin Williams — husband, father of three, comedian, activist, writer and Academy Award-winning actor — is no longer amongst the living. To dwell on the morbid details seems like a complete and utter waste of time and good energy. Our Captain is gone. Fare thee well, Mr. Keating, your fearful trip is done.
Much like the grisly particulars, it’d be easy to focus on the worst of Williams’ filmography, but you cannot reach the peak of cultural ubiquity without stumbling a few times whilst climbing said mountain. For every Patch Adams, Hook or Flubber, there is a World’s Greatest Dad, Fisher King or One Hour Photo; pictures that helped redefine the very definition of the word ‘range’. Wiliams’ talents seemed limitless at times, and that isn’t even counting his sweaty, manic stage presence in the 70s — a non-stop barrage of energy and endless possibility that comprised the stand-up’s singular act.
There will be many tears and much celebration in the coming days, and for good reason. Williams was one of the greats; indisputably a titan in every artistic arena he entered. For me, there is only one way I’d like to imagine him exiting this world, and it’s set to the sounds of Queen and David Bowie. We’ll miss you, Mr. Williams, but are also beyond grateful that you chose to let us into your weird little world.