When Robin Williams lampooned his alma mater

By David Amos

SAN DIEGO — The tragic death of comedian Robin Williams on August 11 reminded me of a personal story to share with you.

You may know of my passion for humor. Not necessarily the kind that uses slapstick and shock, but humor that has a clever play on words, which provide the element of surprise with the unexpected or double meaning. Being a child of many languages, cultures and influences, I admire and at times create humor by seeing a word or a phrase which could be interpreted for its face value, as most people see them, or with a slight twist, create a meaning that escapes most others. Yes, even the lowly pun can be part of this harmless and entertaining madness.

But, Robin Williams carried his imitations, parodies, and references to pop and serious culture to levels I have never seen anyone else approach. His rapid fire delivery and laser-like focus defied what a normal brain can deliver in timing, considering the initial gag, its being spoken to the audience, the necessary pauses for proper comedic effect, and the gauging of the reactions from the audience as to where to go from that point. A complex process indeed, but Williams was the supreme master in implementing this difficult but valuable art form. It came so naturally to him!

What we see of his acting and comedic talents on television or film is proof enough of how popular and successful he was, starting with his hilarious Mork and Mindy, the television sitcom of many years ago. This was even more evident in his live comedy specials, many of them aired on cable, where he unleashed all his energy and inhibitions, and left us with a legacy in comedy which will possibly never be matched.

But one dimension of his enormous talent was manifested to my wife Lee and me about fifteen years ago, when we saw him perform live in a fairly intimate venue.

We were invited to a private party sponsored by the Alumni of the Juilliard School. Although we are not associated with this famous school of music and drama, we were there as guests of a real alumnus and Hollywood composer. There were around 80 people there, seated in ten tables in groups of eight. Among them were many well known film, entertainment, and classical music luminaries. Robin Williams, the guest of honor, was at the table next to us.

The dinner progressed correctly and politely. After we finished with the food, the President of Juilliard, Mr. Polisi, took the podium and gave us a report on the progress of the school, its ambitious future plans, and a brief and positive financial report.

Then, he tried to introduce the special guest, Robin Williams, who was a graduate of the Drama Division of Juilliard. Well, he tried. As soon as his introduction began, long before mentioning his name, Williams was already stalking the podium, at first from the floor, and then on the lectern behind Polisi, making faces, remarks, grabbing the microphone, and making a hilarious pest of himself. At one point, still in the introduction, Polisi buried his head and hands into the podium, knowing that he no longer controlled the situation, joined the rest of us in hysterical laughter, and quickly returned to his banquet seat.

Then, Robin really took over.

His 20 minute routine was not relying on material he may have used before, but was entirely based on Juilliard, and with remarks he heard while eating his dinner a few minutes before. It was a study on how a genius thinks and works. Someone who was sitting at his table told us later that during the food portion of the dinner, Williams was not saying much, but putting together his routine from the comments of others. He showed rapid eye movements, as his mind assembled the jokes and funny lines he was about to use.

What all of us experienced was a routine which made fun of aspiring students, the autocratic Russian teachers and their harsh manners, and the mostly old fogies in the audience. It was done with words, various accents, movements, and references to what was said earlier.

I, along with everyone in the room, was overwhelmed at the limitless talent and energy before us. I have never seen such a display of wit, energy, and lightning delivery of subjects he would never use on HBO or late night interviews. All of it made up on the spot, on the very subject the audience could joyfully relate, with classical music references, ethnic quirks, actors’ phobias, and anything you can imagine. He even made light of one of his movies that bombed, The Cadillac Man.

Of the many tributes that I have seen in the last 24 hours in television and print, two films have not been mentioned, but they did leave an impression on me, along with his more famous ones. One was Moscow on the Hudson, and the other Jakob the Liar, about a poor Jew in a ghetto, keeping a few friends optimistic in spite of the ever-present Nazi oppressors. In many of his movie roles, his serious acting talents were magnificently displayed, and won him awards, accolades, and respect among his peers.

May he rest in peace.

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Amos is conductor of the Tifereth Israel Community Orchestra (TICO) and has guest conducted professional orchestras around the world.  He may be contacted via david.amos@sdjewishworld.com