A couple of hours ago director Barry Levinson, who directed Robin Williams in Good Morning, Vietnam and Toys, posted this on the Variety site: “What makes [Robin’s] death so difficult to understand is the question ‘How can someone so funny be so sad?’ We can reflect on it, try to understand it, analyze it, but nothing will truly answer the question. [But I suspect that] the fragility of the man, his sensitivity, his deep feelings for life…all that allowed for him to carve his comedic sensibilities were the same feelings that took his life. He felt too much perhaps?
“There was always a kindness to Robin. An inquisitive man trying to understand the madness of mankind. But when the comedy motors were off, you could sense the vulnerability of the man. There was always a sense that he could easily be hurt. And if he were hurt, how quickly could he heal? A bleeder in a world of sharp edges. There was an innocence to his thoughtful intelligence. If there were an endangered species list for mankind, he would have been first on that list. He was perhaps too delicate for this difficult world. We lost one of a kind. We all lost a friend.”
This morning I made the mistake of watching CNN and a little bit of Today (which is really sickening — it’s largely aimed at stupid girls who worship the Kardashians), and if I hear one more clip of Williams yelling “guuuhhhd morning, Vietnam!” it’ll be too soon.
And honestly? Williams’ home in Tiburon doesn’t look like the kind of place that a super-loaded movie star who lived at the top of the mountain for 25 years and who was “Robin Williams” for over 35 years…he didn’t live in a place befitting his legend and presumed aesthetic station. I’ve been around and know what the homes of the Gods look like. They always have that special aura. They either look old-world and pre-war-ish or else dramatically handsome or, if they’re hip-hop artists, kinda show-offy. (You should see Barry Levinson’s place in Ross.) And often under the shade of big trees with all kinds of nifty landscaping and tall Spanish walls and impressive backyard views and all the X-factor trimmings. You take one look and you go, “Yeah, of course…somebody fairly loaded but also with a fair amount of taste lives here.”
Williams’ ranch pad [below] is large and sprawling but is basically looks like a cookie-cutter suburban tract home. No security walls to speak of, no big lawn, no pond, no sense of style…just the home of a regular successful guy. The suburbs are full of homes like this, but stars don’t live in them. I know what kind of homes they usually live in. Trust me — they don’t look like this. This could be the home of a real-estate queen or a contractor who builds shopping malls or some dude who owns a car dealership. I’m guessing that Williams used to to live in a movie-star home or two but he had to cut back. This is the fallback place that he bought after saying, “Well, it’s okay…what the hell, there’s plenty of room.”
