Few people see the tears of a clown. Robin Williams, a talented and popular actor considered by many to be the world鈥檚 funniest man, died Monday of apparent suicide in his California home. His publicist said he had been battling severe depression.
What is it about the sudden death of a celebrity, particularly one as well liked as Williams, that stirs shock and grief? How can we grieve for someone we don鈥檛 even know?
Because we think we know the person. Williams鈥檚 public personality was bigger than life; he was gregarious and willing to interact with the public. When he came to Port Alberni in 2001 to film scenes from the crime thriller Insomnia, he endeared himself to the people of the area, walking among them, allowing his photo to be taken, always cracking jokes.
He said then that when he was clowning around in public, he was doing what came naturally to him.
Indeed, he had a natural and amazing talent for being funny. When he was starring in TV shows and movies, producers left him room in the script to ad lib, knowing his quick wit would only add to the work. Talk-show hosts knew that all they had to do was push one or two of his buttons, and he would launch into a comedic spiel that could apparently go on forever at the pace of a machine-gun firing.
His funniness was natural and uncontrived, but that was only part of his personality. He was more than a comedian. He acquitted himself well as a dramatic actor, earning acclaim from his peers and the public in such films as Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, The Fisher King and Good Morning, Vietnam.
His life was a kind of rollercoaster, and the public generally saw him at the top of the ride. People did not see 鈥� or chose not to see 鈥� the plunges into the darkness of depression.
The hints were there 鈥� Williams made no secret about his battles with drugs and alcohol, although he couldn鈥檛 resist jokes at his own expense. (鈥淩eality is just a crutch for people who can鈥檛 cope with drugs.鈥�)
People grieve for the Williams they thought they knew, but that was the public Williams. His humour was both a gift and a shield, and few were allowed past that shield to see his troubled side.
鈥淗e was always in character 鈥� you never saw the real Robin,鈥� said Jamie Masada, founder of the Hollywood comedy club the Laugh Factory. 鈥淚 knew him 35 years, and I never knew him.鈥�
About 3,500 people in sa国际传媒 die by suicide each year, and depression is a factor in many of those deaths. Yet we don鈥檛 hear about them 鈥� we grieve for the man who made us laugh.
Are there people among us whose happy makeup masks tears and pain? Can we do more, through understanding and an improved health-care system, to combat the crippling effects of depression and other types of mental illness? Can we do more to bring hope to those who struggle with darkness?
Robin Williams succumbed to that darkness, but as the grief fades, he will be remembered for his wit and antics, for the good times.
He will be remembered for occasionally using humour as social comment, bringing attention to society鈥檚 foibles and injustices.
Let鈥檚 remember, too, the importance of cherishing the moment, as expressed by one of Williams鈥檚 characters, the maverick teacher John Keating in Dead Poets Society:
鈥淐arpe. Hear it? Carpe. Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys.鈥�
