The success of “Mork and Mindy” brings Williams his first brush with addiction, a disease which would haunt him for the rest of his life. “Cocaine is God’s way of telling you that you have too much money!” jokes Williams to David Letterman (whose whisker-filled visage highlights one of the talking heads segments). While filming his TV show and moonlighting at the L.A. comedy clubs, Williams blew through an immense amount of blow only to be scared straight by the sudden death of John Belushi a few hours after they last saw each other. This sequence is one of those times where “Robin Williams: Come Inside My Mind” frustratingly peers over the edge into the darkness yet dares not inspect it.
I’ve always been fascinated by the narrative that drives most stand-up comedian stories, the one that states that comedy comes from pain and that laughs are the equivalent of “Trainspotting”’s description of heroin—a massively addictive rush of endorphins. The latter certainly seems to be true for Williams, though unlike Richard Pryor for example, Williams’ childhood appeared to be normal. He tells us his father was a “very intense” man whose job at Ford kept him on the road and the family in perpetual motion as they moved from place to place. It was his mother who influenced him greatly, giving him her warped sense of humor and utter lack of shame while performing. Williams’ words about his absent due to work father get mirrored by the words of his eldest son, Zak Williams, one of the folks who contribute to the film’s emotional pull.
Williams’ good friends Billy Crystal and Bobcat Goldthwait also contribute to the film’s effect on one’s heartstrings. Goldthwait, whose brilliant documentary “Call Me Lucky” is a master class on how to upliftingly navigate and inspect trauma, talks about the symbolic, freeing nature of a scene in “World’s Greatest Dad,” the film he wrote and directed for Williams. Crystal plays us numerous phone messages he received and discusses an important one he sent when Williams was hospitalized. He also brings up the last time he spoke to his good friend, which Zenovich effectively uses as an arrow aimed straight at the viewer’s tear ducts, only to completely ruin the moment by going for the way too obvious cliché of showing that damn “carpe diem” clip from “Dead Poets Society.”
ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7s7vGnqmempWnwW%2BvzqZmq52mnrK4v46rppuhnmLEqrjLopimq12YvK6xjKKlrKGUmnquxYymoKecXWd9coQ%3D