The definition of a perfect Robin Williams character: “It’s out there”
Try and think of what constitutes an archetypal Robin Williams character, and you will find your mind wandering to one fairly specific place.
High-spirited, high-energy and without reproach, the majority of the comedic actor’s characters have a zest for life that can be equal parts impressive and annoying.
Williams had a rare versatility, which meant he could cast light on shadows and bring an intense darkness to joy. Bringing to life impossible characters like the Genie in Aladdin and a desperate father in Mrs Doubtfire who fumbles his way through everyday nanny duties, Williams delivered most prominently on the comedic circuit.
Buoyed by his early work as a stand-up comedian, Williams would rely on his wits during takes and often give several different takes of his lines, with his unique interpretation adding welcome colour to the scene. Whether it is the elongated delivery of “Good morning Vietnam” screeching through your bones, or the solemn simplicity of “It’s not your fault” highlighting his innate wisdom of a character’s unspoken complexities.
However, while many might know for him later performances in dramatic projects like Good Will Hunting and Dead Poets Society, the actor first honed his creative identity through one project that became the foundation of many of his later characters, laying the groundwork for a personal style that ran throughout the rest of his career.
Many great performers had humble beginnings on a stand-up stage or edge of a pavement, with many artists performing in the most bizarre and unofficial of places just to get their name out there and out on a good show. Phoebe Waller-Bridge famously had her career kicked off after a play in the Edinburgh Fringe, while filmmakers like Joanna Hogg worked as a writer on a British soap opera for many years before taking the plunge as a director.
Williams had a similar trajectory after beginning in the stand-up world, but it was his work in this realm that led him to book one of his most crucial jobs, with his role on Mork and Mindy being the catalyst for his entire career.
Mork and Mindy ran for four seasons during the ‘70s, following an alien called Mork who is sent to earth to study human behaviour, sparking up a friendship with a young journalist called Mindy. It was just as strange as it sounds, but Williams described the impact this had on his later characters and how the Mork is perhaps the titular example of the Williams archetype.
When discussing this, Williams said, “Something with spirit, a character who doesn’t drive people crazy. Mork was like that—Mork had total freedom, and yet people still found him sweet enough that they could tolerate the madness. It’s a fine line. There has to be a story that’s simple enough and strong enough to keep people going.”
Mork isn’t human, it should be noted. That fact alone gives you a somewhat brutal insight into both how cleverly constructed Williams’ characters could be and how detached he may have felt from his own humanity at times. This duality would not only be a strong theme for Williams’ professional career, often employing an ethereal detachment, but be a reflection of a personal life that would end with his tragic suicide.
Williams’ world was a unique one, and sadly not one that many of us could be familiar with.
