groundbreaking in its time, and in an interview, he told presenter Michael Parkinson about Sellers’ performance in the film
Dr. Strangelove
, ‘It doesn’t get any better than that.’ Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, at the forefront of the early 1960s satire boom and another set of erudite and well-educated men, were also influences. Richard Pryor was yet another, although, like Robin, he was also to succumb to drink and drugs.
In fact, it is notable that, with the possible exceptions of Nichols and May, every single one of the artists Williamscited as early influences was not just extremely funny but very damaged indeed. Winters had had a couple of severe breakdowns and spent time in a psychiatric hospital. Peter Cook became an alcoholic. Dudley Moore struggled with depression. Peter Sellers was never capable of being himself: only happy when performing, he died of a heart attack aged just fifty-four, leaving behind a family full of tragedy and torment. Lenny Bruce was a drug addict, who died at the age of forty after taking an overdose. Richard Pryor, who also died relatively young (sixty-five) from a heart attack in December 2005, had drink and drug problems that, if anything, were worse than Robin’s own. It was becoming more than mere coincidence. Indeed, the majority of the best comedians are damaged – they make people laugh to hide their own pain.
And so began a career that was both the best and the worst path that Williams could have chosen. Such was his energy and exuberance that it simply had to find an outlet somewhere and how better than in making people laugh? He talked about personal issues, he told the presenter Michael Parkinson, because it was ‘cheaper than therapy’ – a highly pertinent observation, not least because he himself was to end up in therapy throughout a great chunk of his life. And in some ways, this was true. If there were personal issues that could make him weep in his private life (and there were – Robin was far more easily moved to tears than anyone realised back then), it must have seemed a blessed relief to take those self-same issues and make people laugh.
But at the same time, it was a manic existence and not one designed to calm down a man already teetering on the edge. It was unstable: performances take place at night and the performer, having given it his all, ends on a high. Where to go from there? To another high, at that stage, this one chemically induced. Williams later revealed that he never drank or took drugs before a performance but he certainly did so afterwards and often performed with a hangover. He only once performed when high on cocaine, which, he said, made him paranoid; it was not a happy combination.
Then there was the fact that he was out on the road, constantly being made aware of other rising talents and surrounded by all manner of temptation that would prove hard to resist. ‘It’s a brutal field, man,’ he is quoted as saying in Gerald Nachman’s excellent book,
Seriously Funny: The Rebel Comedians of the 1950s and 1960s.
‘They burn out. It takes its toll. Plus, the lifestyle – partying, drinking, drugs. If you’re on the road, it’s even more brutal. You gotta come back down to mellow your ass out, and then performing takes you back up. They flame out because it comes and goes. Suddenly they’re hot, and then somebody else is hot. Sometimes they get very bitter. Sometimes they just give up. Sometimes they have a revival thing and they come back again. Sometimes they snap. The pressure kicks in. You become obsessed and then you lose that focus that you need.’
Not everyone believed that Robin’s problems wereworse than anyone else’s though. It was, after all, the 1970s: practically everyone in show business was taking drugs. ‘Anyone who grew up in that time had those experiences,’ Chris Albrecht, CEO of Starz and a good friend of Robin’s told
Variety
. ‘Robin was not unique in that way. It was the 1970s.’ That is certainly
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