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| Scene from "A Night at the Met" |
On Monday, August 11, 2014, the world was shocked to learn of the unfortunate passing of eccentric comedian Robin Williams. Over a career spanning 36 years, he was a massive presence whose unpredictability wasn't a detriment, but an asset. He never compromised his style and ended up making an enviably vast body of work that speaks differently to each generation. With an amazing reputation for being joyful, his death comes as a great loss. Since it is impossible to summarize the influence that he has made on me in a singular post, I have decided to split up my tribute into four parts released over the next few days. From how he influenced my childhood to my latter years, it will be a candid ode to why he meant a lot to me and will continue to for a long, long, long, long time.
Part III: The Stand-Up
As time progressed, I became interested with stand-up comedy. For the most part, I hit a lot of the familiar iconic beats of the 70's and 80's. Hearing George Carlin, Steve Martin, and especially Bob Newhart had an undefinable impact on how I developed my sense of humor. I had this coy sensibility that mixed a dry delivery with a smart understanding of language, timing, pop culture, and sincerity. To say the least, I am nowhere near being to the level of stand-up as in my mind. My blog is funnier than me, and I have to give that life, if you follow. Anyways, I had these formative albums that impacted not only the way I laughed, but how I thought of the world around me. Then, sometime in high school, I heard my first Robin Williams album. Having rented it from a library in Lakewood, CA, I didn't know what to expect. It was... mind blowing.
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While this entry will not be nearly as long as the others, this is specifically focusing on a few albums in his collection. Despite being a fan of his work, I have not heard Robin Williams' "Live 2002" or "Throbbing Python of Love" albums, so I don't have a basis to go off of them. Instead, it will be about "Reality... What A Concept," "A Night at the Met," and "Weapons of Self Destruction" exclusively. While I have not seen all of them via the HBO visual format, I will discuss them as such when applicable.
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I have known about Williams for a large portion of my life. I knew Aladdin and Good Morning Vietnam by this point. I had a fondness for him, though I had yet to full-out embrace him as well as I would later on in life. It was on a whim that my friend decided to stop by the library and pick up this DVD with him on the disc in a Hawaiian shirt. It was "A Night at the Met." Sounded simple enough and there's little doubt that it could be good. After all, he was funny in film, how bad could he be at stand-up?
In a time where I admired Bob Newhart's simplicity and humble approach to comedy, I wasn't fond of seeing agitprop comedians doing back flips on stage and overwhelming the crowd. I wanted narrations and actual substance. It could be why Sam Kinison or Emo Phillips never appealed to me. They were more rooted in a specific delivery style. However, maybe it benefited that Williams had already been introduced into my life. What followed was something shocking, foul, dated, but most of all, this whirlwind of energy unlike anything else I have ever seen. To preface, "A Night at the Met" remains one of my favorite stand-up albums in hindsight.
Maybe it could be that he was classically trained at Julliard. However, you'd never see Patti LuPone on stage doing jokes about getting high sandwiched between jokes about Ronald Reagan being Walt Disney's last wish as an animatronic robot. Williams' jokes are insanely intricate that to piece it all together on paper would look uninspired. Yes, his work tends to be very dated and many references lost to time. However, there was something to the delivery that remains unsurpassed. Even imitators (I found out that there's one called Michael Clayton, which is hilarious because of that movie) cannot quite possibly piece together what it is that makes his brand of humor interesting.
The easy way to attack him was to say that he talked literally fast and dirty. He didn't shy from self-deprecating jokes about sex and bowel movements. They were always there, even in his farewell "Weapons of Self Destruction." It could be the biggest turnoff of his brand, but consider the fact that a man who has played everything in his life from a friendly Genie to a psychopathic photo booth worker, his humor definitely couldn't be pinned to one thing. Even then, what is striking is that all of these jokes were smashed between more poignant commentaries and deeper meanings. When he insulted Reagan, he had an informed political subtext with it. When he discussed drugs, he spoke from personal experience. There were effeminate portrayals in between, but he still brought something unique. He was highbrow in the lowbrow while making a series of jokes that would hit and miss, but would at least appeal to someone different.
However, there was one thing that nobody could imitate no matter how hard they tried. They could plagiarize his work word-for-word, but it wouldn't sound as authentic because of one thing.
There was a stream on conscious to his humor that made every syllable sound thought up at a moment's notice. It sounds ridiculous when you consider that he paced himself at an impressively fast pace. He was like the stand-up version of Jack Kerouac or James Joyce on speed. Even among the at times nauseating speed lied something else: he had countless voices. While his voice impersonation range helped to land him an abundance of animated films later on, his stand-up was something else. While it had long been established going back to his hero Jonathan Winters that comics could do voices, nobody did them faster or with more clarity. Just watch how quickly his riffing slows down and focuses on a singular voice. While his physicality would disappear with age, he always had the ability to make his stream of conscious speed through anything and everything that could be thought up. He was hit or miss at times, but he was still amazing in ways that nobody else was. Carlin was smarter. Martin was more absurd. Yet nobody could pack more humor and thought into five minutes than him.
Even then, there has to be more substance than this to make him a comedy wunderkind. A joke goes a long way, but with Williams spouting a lot of good by bad, there needed to be something more. That is where things get interesting. While Williams was always one to skewer the media landscape, he wasn't afraid to attack himself. In 1986, he was coming off of Mork & Mindy and had his own array of personal and drug problems. He had become a father. He wasn't afraid to talk about that at all. Also, this wasn't just any parenting comedy. This wasn't Bill Cosby's "Himself" level of wisdom. It was an entire show that lead to an impersonation of his child saying "Fuck it!"
One could expect a cocaine-addled comedian who needed to entertain at every second to not have the most stable of personal lives. It is all detailed here in glorious detail. However, it isn't seen as a humbling departure from the rest of his jokes. It flows through the veins, allowing the personal experiences to be tied to pop culture references and Williams going insane. It was all relative to the human condition. Even if the family material is arguably more crass than his cocaine riffs, there was a personal touch to them that made him something unique. It was his family and they were all going to get a joke told at a rapid pace.
"A Night at the Met" had a profound impact on me because it opened up the window of what comedy could be. While "Reality... What a Concept" introduced me to a rawer, less polished version of his work, I appreciated the spontaneity and the realization that no matter what, he was going to make you laugh. He could be insightful or downright crude, but he did it all. He was a shameless man who wanted the most out of comedy. His Julliard training helped to focus his manic persona, and made him this compelling force of insanity.
And in true fashion, I cannot quite talk about his work without discussing the one release that seems oddly named now. Even then, it isn't like it was an awful album. It was...
"Weapons of Self Destruction."
While it pales in comparison to "A Night at the Met," (which may just be because of the first exposure factor) there was something profound about the album. He hadn't changed at all. He was still mixing politics with pop culture, juvenile jokes, and personal anecdotes. It was an open letter from a later period of his life. He didn't have any riffs on cocaine to go off of. Still, it didn't stop him from talking about sex and solving the gasoline problem by sticking a hose up his rectum. Yes, it may be more off putting to see an old man say it all, but where the intelligence mattered, he still had a profound aspect. His riff on the Bush Administration was especially hard hitting and the choice to insult Sarah Palin worked out just fine. Maybe his stream of consciousness slowed down, but it wasn't by much. He was still pushing envelopes.
However, the real striking moment came early in the album when suddenly he talks about his heart condition. Again, where some would treat it as a humble experience, he chose to adapt to modern conversation. He references iPod-esque technology and putting a whistle in his scrotum. All of it is rather silly, but underneath these jokes were poignant commentaries on his heart surgery and how ridiculous operations have become. He clearly was passionate about it and wanted to share it with the world. It just involved a few jokes about blow jobs alongside it.
While the album likely seems more dated than even Carlin ranting on the same subjects, it unfortunately was a solid farewell release. It proved that he was able to adapt to modern era and appeal to audiences young and old (except for those who disliked foul language in this case). His riffs on technology and placement in life didn't make him sound like an experienced veteran upset with the modern generation. He was still living and wanting to connect in important ways. Yes, the moments do sound a little dated, but the delivery pattern kept everything moving. If nothing else, his humor worked because of how he diverted from joke to joke without letting the weak ones wear down the work.
Even then, there has to be more substance than this to make him a comedy wunderkind. A joke goes a long way, but with Williams spouting a lot of good by bad, there needed to be something more. That is where things get interesting. While Williams was always one to skewer the media landscape, he wasn't afraid to attack himself. In 1986, he was coming off of Mork & Mindy and had his own array of personal and drug problems. He had become a father. He wasn't afraid to talk about that at all. Also, this wasn't just any parenting comedy. This wasn't Bill Cosby's "Himself" level of wisdom. It was an entire show that lead to an impersonation of his child saying "Fuck it!"
One could expect a cocaine-addled comedian who needed to entertain at every second to not have the most stable of personal lives. It is all detailed here in glorious detail. However, it isn't seen as a humbling departure from the rest of his jokes. It flows through the veins, allowing the personal experiences to be tied to pop culture references and Williams going insane. It was all relative to the human condition. Even if the family material is arguably more crass than his cocaine riffs, there was a personal touch to them that made him something unique. It was his family and they were all going to get a joke told at a rapid pace.
"A Night at the Met" had a profound impact on me because it opened up the window of what comedy could be. While "Reality... What a Concept" introduced me to a rawer, less polished version of his work, I appreciated the spontaneity and the realization that no matter what, he was going to make you laugh. He could be insightful or downright crude, but he did it all. He was a shameless man who wanted the most out of comedy. His Julliard training helped to focus his manic persona, and made him this compelling force of insanity.
And in true fashion, I cannot quite talk about his work without discussing the one release that seems oddly named now. Even then, it isn't like it was an awful album. It was...
"Weapons of Self Destruction."
While it pales in comparison to "A Night at the Met," (which may just be because of the first exposure factor) there was something profound about the album. He hadn't changed at all. He was still mixing politics with pop culture, juvenile jokes, and personal anecdotes. It was an open letter from a later period of his life. He didn't have any riffs on cocaine to go off of. Still, it didn't stop him from talking about sex and solving the gasoline problem by sticking a hose up his rectum. Yes, it may be more off putting to see an old man say it all, but where the intelligence mattered, he still had a profound aspect. His riff on the Bush Administration was especially hard hitting and the choice to insult Sarah Palin worked out just fine. Maybe his stream of consciousness slowed down, but it wasn't by much. He was still pushing envelopes.
However, the real striking moment came early in the album when suddenly he talks about his heart condition. Again, where some would treat it as a humble experience, he chose to adapt to modern conversation. He references iPod-esque technology and putting a whistle in his scrotum. All of it is rather silly, but underneath these jokes were poignant commentaries on his heart surgery and how ridiculous operations have become. He clearly was passionate about it and wanted to share it with the world. It just involved a few jokes about blow jobs alongside it.
While the album likely seems more dated than even Carlin ranting on the same subjects, it unfortunately was a solid farewell release. It proved that he was able to adapt to modern era and appeal to audiences young and old (except for those who disliked foul language in this case). His riffs on technology and placement in life didn't make him sound like an experienced veteran upset with the modern generation. He was still living and wanting to connect in important ways. Yes, the moments do sound a little dated, but the delivery pattern kept everything moving. If nothing else, his humor worked because of how he diverted from joke to joke without letting the weak ones wear down the work.
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It is doubtful that I will be revisiting "Weapons of Self Destruction" as much as the other two. However, relistening to it for this piece did leave a lot of profound moments that clicked because I was alive during this era and unlike "A Night at the Met," knew close to all of the references. The only conflict here is that by this point, he was such an acquired taste and had inspired so many comics that it seems impossible to find him as interesting as he once was. It is the unfortunate side effect of age. However, to know that he was adapting and consistently pushing relevant buttons meant that he was doing what he always did. You have to admire someone who went out doing what they loved, let alone to end an album full of politics and heart surgery stories with a riff resulting in the track called "Porn." Yep, he was an entertainer until the final moments.
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Much like Carlin, I will have a life regret of not seeing him perform comedy. Then again, I always thought that he would be around forever. The stories of him performing at Los Angeles-based clubs like The Nerdmelt only make my lack of awareness more insulting. He did a lot that inspired a lot of people. I would go into all of his TV and other gigs, but those don't hold nearly as much relevance as simply focusing on his stand-up albums that are so unique and full of life in ways that force you to challenge him to a riffing contest. He could tell jokes more foul than you and maybe even beat you in the political field as well. He was unexpected, but he was well rounded simultaneously. I cannot comment on his work on The Comedy Relief or anything along those lines, but I can simply say that his albums spoke to me and while I don't have a lot to say, I suggest that you check them out to understand what I mean. As it stands, I have to hear "Live 2002" at some point now. He was powerful and so full of life in his jokes that the fact that it continually came through in his stand-up is a miracle.
Closing out the four-part section tomorrow is probably the most personal piece of the puzzle and the reason that I haven't addressed much of the realities yet. Yes, for a large reason that I will explain, his work on TV may have been my biggest, and most personal, gift from him.
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