To read David Itzkoff's biography of Robin Williams is to feel like a veil has been lifted. For generations, certain things were taken for granted. Things as simple as the idea that he was always a success, starring in noteworthy movies and headlining comedy clubs are debunked here, reflecting a tragic reality for an artist who felt like he could do anything. His mind ran miles faster than anyone he met, his kindness and openness become shocking when you realize that he was often reserved privately. So much is contradictory about Williams' life, and that is some of the reason that his death in 2014 remains so shocking, ripping a hole in the space-time continuum. How could a man whose sole purpose was to make everyone else happy so crippled with sadness?
What Itzkoff proposes is that it's always been there. Even if he's never spoken about himself in any vulnerable way, his performances were reflective of a man keeping the demons at bay. He was shielding himself from ever being truly exposed, and he used humor to deflect any criticism. You can find it in everything from Mork & Mindy to even his major films like Mrs. Doubtfire and Good Will Hunting. Here was a man who reflected characters experiencing some regret and triumphing, as if he was trying to teach us all how to fight their own depression. It may be why he remained so revered, and why this biography is a definitive character study of a man whose otherwise still a mystery, never likely to be understood by anyone outside of his head.
The most immediate accomplishment of Itzkoff's "Robin" is how he approaches this topic. While it's a story that delves into every significant moment in his career, it feels like one that comes from even deeper compassion. He's asking the question about who this man was, and why he was so proverbially sad. Through rigorous research that found him even interviewing family, he comes close to understanding how it was always built into his life, starting as a lonely child who played with toy soldiers. He even explores his parents' life stories in brief, pages-long explorations of how his only relationship to his father was when Johnathan Winters was on The Tonight Show. There are small traces of why Robin was who he was in these details, feeling groundbreaking in subtle ways while suggesting ideas that could be indicative of his depression and addiction issues.
It's a thorough read with almost every major milestone in his career getting reverential treatment. What is especially impressive is how most of the book emphasizes a pre-1995 era, which would be considered his prime. It's also the one with a wild rollercoaster of momentum, going from Julliard graduate to underrated dramatic actor. Itzkoff talks to actors like Pam Dawber and Jeff Bridges looking for these small moments of humanity, finding a man who genuinely seemed like he cared for others. So long as Williams could, he would be there for you. The pain of "Robin" is that he was a man who understood pain so well that he wanted the world to not experience it. While he had stretches where he would play dark roles, there was this underlying optimism that he kept coming back to.
While this period is fascinating in all of the ways that a Hollywood tell-all is, it mostly feels set-up for Itzkoff's bigger heart. It's after the turn of the millennium when success became more abstract of a concept. He's won an Oscar and dominated the box office. What could possibly be left for him to achieve? It's the final stretch where the whole journey becomes most uncomfortable when he recognizes his mortality and the pressure to be his younger self begins to feel impossible. Before his misdiagnosed death by Parkinson's disease, there are moments where Itzkoff highlights the passing of Williams' friends and idols: Jonathan Winters, Richard Pryor, Christopher Reeves. Where these would read like simple passings in any other narrative, Itzkoff's obsession reflects what they symbolized to Williams, reflecting a vulnerability that he was profoundly uncomfortable with, once again feeling alone despite being the biggest star in the world.
Itzkoff is thorough about everything here. While the movie trivia is engrossing, it's the man himself that becomes the bigger focus in the final stretch, when it becomes this dark cloud. For people who know how the story ends, the discomfort will come earlier than the diagnosis. Otherwise, the gradual revelation is still haunting, finding an indomitable giant reveal his mortality, being possibly unable to be the same man that he once was. It's a sadness that Itzkoff goes into great detail and you can't help but hope that this time is different. What if Williams was properly diagnosed with Lewy body's disease? What if there was a cure and he would become a star? He'd broken free of depression several times before, so what made this time different?
At no point does the writer admit that he knows wholeheartedly who Williams is. And yet, it feels like he understood him better than any of us. It comes with an obsession that even ends with a sweet prologue involving an old interview. There are these small ways that Williams contradicts the idea of sadness, that he was always going to pull through. It's the type of read that reflects a once in a lifetime sensation in all of the highs and lows, making you reflect on your own nostalgia and finding a deeper appreciation for what he did. He had his rough periods, but he ultimately pulled through. It's the type of motivation that everyone deserved to think of him.
But why did Williams feel lonely? It's never outright said, but it can easily be picked up by anyone wanting to go on that journey. The cover, as simple as it is, even says something about how little of this is direct commentary from the man himself. This is all just an effort to appreciate him more. It's the type of narrative that feels complete, reflective of his entire life in ways both triumphant and sad. While it leaves you on a bit of a downbeat, there is still that optimism that can be found in those pages. There's an ambiguity that his death wasn't directly caused by one thing. Much like his life, it's difficult to ever know just what it was. Even if this answers 95% of the questions we had about him, there's still the 5% that will never be answered. It's all just speculation at this point, and you could do worse than take a few cues from Itzkoff about it.
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