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 IV: The Television
Having been born in 1989, I was nowhere near being able to see Mork & Mindy when it was on. The series had been off the air for seven years. In fact, the strange thing is that with a series that held such a strong impact, it came from a very predictable way. I grew up with Robin Williams' movies and was well away of his manic persona. There wasn't much to discover in terms of why Mork from Ork was this amazing invention of Garry Marshall and the folks at Happy Days. The question was why did this series hold any impact on me beyond being a Williams fan and enjoying the absurdity of it all?
There is a deeper, more personal reason to this chapter. To start, it was simply because of perfect timing. I was in high school and had the ethics to watch a lot of TV in the evenings. Along with the daily doses of The Simpsons, I began to discover shows like The Green Hornet, Laverne and Shirley and Get Smart. They consumed my time and I became invested in the episodes. The day that I discovered the network channel KDOC was a big one. I watched hour-long blocks of Get Smart and that fulfilled my evening. Then one day, I turned on the TV at the same time as usual and... Maxwell Smart wasn't driving up in his car. It was an egg flying through the air.
What was this show? At first, it left me blindsided. I recognized Williams among the cast, but to say I had much enthusiasm for the series would be a lie. I wanted my Get Smart. I was at the ripe age where Mel Brooks was a savant and Steve Martin was a demigod. To see this series about some guy playing an alien with a bunch of nobodies baffled me. That was, until the first commercial break.
Cut to the following week. It had become my regular program of choice. I remember being infinitely amused by him bopping his head on the egg in the credits while saying "Shazbot!" I incorporated the handshake, the ear tugs, and phrase "Nanu nanu" into my lexicon. It wasn't that it connected me to another group of friends, it just gave me something fascinating to watch. As someone who is attracted to programming that is communal with internal logic, seeing this series tackle basic issues while having Williams as Mork doing his deus ex machina comedy that could be done because... he was an alien who wore the most gaudy thrift shop clothes that looked like he was directly out of Godspell. He did the voices and his affection to eggs was surreal.
Have I seen all of the episodes? I don't believe that I have. In the grand scheme of things, I discovered better 70's sitcoms such as Taxi and Soap. With exception to Taxi's Latka, no character even came close to the alienating genius of Mork. While he followed a series of conventions where he learned a lesson and gave monologues to his home leader Orson, he was unique in every episode. The topics were often banal, but he was the thriving force every time, and to see him in motion is like witnessing Aurora Borealis. It is mystical and when paired alongside other improve geniuses like his hero Jonathan Winters, the universe was so unpredictable and lively that everyone else seemed lazy. It was compensation at its best.
However, who can argue with results like this:
He was so full of life that he spun from stern to high strung in seconds while remaining convincing. In fact, the height of his physical comedy came in a scene in which he acts out a very physical scene that involves a lot of specific movements. For some reason, he is forced to rewind the entire act. He does so in the most uncanny way possible. While I have forgotten the specific episode that it is from, it remains one of the pinnacle moments of my TV watching habits. I have never forgotten it and hold it as the peak of his Mork & Mindy creativity. I am aware that the series went downhill towards the end and that the cheerleading episode has gotten a notorious reputation. However, to know that Williams' career didn't end there is phenomenal. He was a rapid torpedo that could confuse you if you weren't paying attention.
So let me finally establish why Mork & Mindy was an important show to me and why I have been very coy about talking about Williams' unfortunate end. As a lot of high schoolers continue to be, I was a sad, lonely kid. Sure, I had friends and the extracurricular kept me busy, but there was still that core dissatisfaction that comes with changing hormones. High school was rough. That's all that you need to know. While I connected with others on films and pop culture, I was already wanting to move onto more complicated manners. Let's just say that nobody I knew cared about Get Smart.
Basically, I had my bad days with the good. I always held comfort in knowing that at the end of the day, Mork & Mindy was there and that Williams would be creating this strange, wonderful universe for me to get lost in. I didn't understand it, but there was something comforting about an extroverted man with too much creative force. His out-of-place nature made it easier to relate. Speaking as someone who has been often improperly labeled "the funny one," it connected on a more subliminal level.
I found solace in this series and still will pop it on when syndication permits. Like many, there was a defining piece of pop culture that "save their lives." For some, it was a creative spark. For others, it was more literal depression. I advocate their statements because while I cannot claim to have had the darkest of minds, I have been sad and felt alone. Trying to navigate the world as a teenager is especially hard when you're shy and don't exactly have an outlet. To see this eccentric figure who bows at the end of every episode while talking to a disembodied voice meant something more profound. At times, it kept me going.
As a creative type, I can empathize with those suffering from depression. I'll admit to never being as low as some, but I still have those days of defeat and contemplating life decisions. Over the course of this four-part series, I have explained why I admire Williams' contributions to the world. He made everyone infinitely happy. For me, he was always that ways, but Mork & Mindy has a special place for me because of when I saw it. In a way, Williams seemed like infinite happiness and it made it exceptionally hard to even imagine him dying of depression.
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| With Louis C.K. in Louie |
For days, I have steered clear of discussing his death specifically because I just wanted to get everything out. I needed to discuss his infinite contributions to mankind and how it impacted me. He was too phenomenal for me to jump directly to the "Depression is real" argument, even if I have always accepted it. While I cannot claim to have ever met him nor be directly influenced by his involvement of Comedy Relief or his countless charities, his work inspired me and was a part of defining my current stance as a creative artist. Yes, there are some that I connect to more, but very few have been as relevant to me in different decades and mediums for the majority of my life. That is something phenomenal.
It is why I feel uncomfortable addressing his suicide notably because I have nothing to add. While it has come out that he was also in early stages of Parkinson Disease, the depression was hard to even reference. I watched Mork & Mindy specifically for him to cheer me up. He was my anti-depressant. Never could I assume that my anti-depressant would die from depression. It was illogical, and still makes the whole thing a little more unnerving. Unlike me, he did a lot and lived a fulfilled life, reaching millions of people and helping to make the world a better place.
Even in the later years, when my interest in him wasn't at his peak, I still had a reverence for him. I enjoyed his segment on Louie. I found some charm in what little I saw of The Crazy Ones. I even found myself getting emotional to Aladdin songs and laughing at the poignancy of "A Night at the Met." When I look back at his career, it doesn't just hit a nostalgic note. It hits something deeper regarding the human condition. Even on Mork & Mindy, he was preaching morals about the importance of being a good person. His movies were ripe with life-affirming quotes. As I end this entry, I want to simply say that among his juvenile jokes, creepy drama films, and schizophrenic voices, that he wasn't the eternal child. He was an eternal optimist who wanted to make the world a better place for everyone. While we didn't always agree, he was always trying, and that itself is something to behold. He was relevant because he cared too much about life and being present. I love his work because of that.
R.I.P.
Robin Williams
1951-2014
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