Tuesday, August 12, 2014

On Robin Williams

Richard Cory
By Edwin Arlington Robinson 

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was richyes, richer than a king
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head
The news today is full of stories and attributes on Robin Williams, who killed himself yesterday.  Apparently he was battling depression and had a history of addictions, which probably were part and parcel of each other.

The last time a celebrity was noted here upon that person's death, which is probably the only time a celebrity has been noted here due to death, was when Richard Seymour Hoffman died due to a drug overdose, and my entry at that time wasn't really sympathetic.  I tend not to credit too much the stories of pressure and angst associated with the performing arts, as I don't think they compare to those born by the unknown and average, who often have tremendous burdens.  In other words, I don't worry too much about the fame and its burdens that the famous have, as I don't think it's quite the same as being a blue collar worker in Detroit worrying about his job and his family.

But I do feel different about Williams, who seemed a fragile character in some ways, and a real one in other ways.

I wasn't an early fan of Williams, but I did start liking his work about the time he appeared in Good Morning Vietnam, and his performance in Good Will Hunting, ironically as a psychologist, was brilliant.  Perhaps that role, more than any other, showed his vulnerability and tapped into a completely non comedic serious role.  Unfortunately Williams could portray the deeply insightful but troubled psychologist in that movie, but apparently take no  comfort from it.

I don't know what it was that was so deeply troubling to Williams, and frankly for those very seriously disturbed, nobody really can.  But I note what was noted so long ago by the poem Richard Corey, set out above.  I don't want to be seen to be excusing his suicide, but it can be the case that a person who seemingly has everything, does not feel that way himself. And for those oppressed with the often heavy, but ordinary burdens of everyday life, things are often much better than they might appear.

2 comments:

Jenny Bennett said...

From quotes in the NY Times article on the subject, I gathered that he had reached a point of spiritual and moral fatigue. He had fought off his addictions and then succumbed to them again, more than once. He couldn't picture anything new that he had to offer as a performer. This sort of wear and tear can gradually, insidiously, destroy a person's soul. It leads to despair. This is not by any means to say that a celebrity's problems deserve more attention than, say, the troubles of a jobless person in taking care of his/her family, but there is a certain element of self-destruction that can be uniquely painful in these sorts of situations.

Pat, Marcus & Alexis said...

Excellent entry Jenny.

One thing that is so difficult for people to appreciate is that the individual mindset for a person like Williams, who apparently suffered from organic (as opposed to situational) depression is nearly impossible for an outsider to appreciate.

Most of us have had "the blues" at some point, but its situational. We lose a job, we break up with a girlfriend, a loved one dies, and we feel sad. We tend to think of that as depression, but it really is not. Some also suffer from a longterm, situational depression, which can be tough indeed. So, for example, you're stuck in northern Iraq, or you have regret your decision to be a wasp herder, or whatever. But that's different also.

When most people, therefore, look at the person suffering from organic depression, which is something that's internal to their makeup, we feel that "man, they've got it made". They might, but that doesn't mean that the deep despair isn't with them all the time.

We are fortunate that this condition is treatable, and for most it can be addressed. But that requires effective treatment, part of which is just getting those folks in to be treated, which many of them do not have done.