After a life of spinning comic magic, Robin Williams made his last act a tragedy.
The manic comedian, who kept America laughing with his rapid-fire humor, and later won an Oscar for his serious acting, stunned his family, friends and millions of fans Monday by apparently committing suicide at his suburban San Francisco home. He was 63.
His body was found at the residence in Tiburon at 11:55 a.m., California time, by Marin County sheriff’s deputies. He was pronounced dead seven minutes later. He was last seen alive about 10 p.m. Sunday.
An autopsy will be performed Tuesday, but the Marin County Coroner said the cause of death appeared to be suicide by asphyxiation.
Williams had suffered manic depression throughout his life, stemming from bipolar disorder. His spokeswoman, Mara Buxbaum, said he had been “battling severe depression” in recent days.
For most of his adult life he struggled with drug and alcohol addiction, and had emerged from his latest rehab stint — what he had jokingly said was a “freshening up” — on July 1. Though he had reportedly looked gaunt and tired in recent weeks, his death came as a shock to everyone around him.
“This morning I lost my husband and my best friend, while the world lost one of its most beloved artists and beautiful human beings,” his wife, Susan Schneider, said in a statement. “I am utterly heartbroken.
“On behalf of Robin’s family, we are asking for privacy during our time of profound grief. As he is remembered, it is our hope that the focus will not be on Robin’s death, but on the countless moments of joy and laughter he gave to millions.”
Williams, a wonder of standup who did remarkably accurate impersonations, established himself as a serious actor with films like 1989’s “The Dead Poets Society” and 1997’s “Good Will Hunting.” The latter performance — as a shrink from a hard-knock background who uses therapy and empathy to get a breakthrough from a tormented young genius — earned him an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.
But he remained better known to some for comic and quasi-comic roles, starting with the 1970s sitcom “Mork and Mindy,” and continuing through his high-octane disc jockey in “Good Morning Vietnam” (1987) and his hilarious cross-dressing “Mrs. Doubtfire” (1993).
He also gave hundreds of classic interviews, in which he would go off on a whirlwind of free-association riffs and gags, often delivered at a startling speed and sometimes sounding as if he had no idea where the brakes might be. Once he started, the late Henny Youngman once said, “You just got out of his way.”
Williams had kept a lower profile in recent years. His return to television in the 2013 CBS sitcom “The Crazy Ones” ended when the show was canceled after one season, despite Williams’ plea for clemency. Planning had been under way for a sequel to “Mrs. Doubtfire.”
His last social media communication came two weeks ago, when he shared a photograph of himself with his daughter when she was a baby, to mark her 25th birthday. A man who was known as a passionate gamer, the legendary actor named his daughter Zelda.
“#tbt and Happy Birthday to Ms. Zelda Rae Williams! Quarter of a century old today but always my baby girl. Happy Birthday @zeldawilliams Love you!” Williams captioned the Instagram.
Zelda composed a touching tweet Monday that included a picture of a quote from “The Little Prince,” about a person living in a star and making it such that all the stars appear to be laughing when a loved one looks at the night sky.
“I love you. I miss you. I’ll try to keep looking up. Z,” read her caption.
Public reaction to his death was remarkably widespread.
“We’re all grieving terribly for Robin,” Sally Field, his “Mrs. Doubtfire” co-star, told the Daily News.
“I could not be more stunned by the loss of Robin Williams, mensch, great talent, acting partner, genuine soul,” Steve Martin tweeted.
“I am completely and totally devastated,” said Pam Dawber, who co-starred with Williams in “Mork and Mindy,” playing a human girl to his zany alien. “What more can be said?”
Bonnie Hunt, his co-star in 1995’s “Jumanji,” couldn’t believe that one possessed of such a special talent to uplift could have ever felt so down. “It is devastating to fathom, Robin losing hope,” Hunt said in a statement to The News. “I love him. He was a loyal friend and confidant, a special soul, so humble, so kind. He lifted me up on my most challenging days.”
Sarah Michelle Gellar, who recently co-starred with Williams in the CBS comedy “The Crazy Ones,” said in a statement to People that the comedian was the father she “always dreamed of having,” and to her children he was “Uncle Robin.”
“There are not enough adjectives to describe the light he was, to anyone that ever had the pleasure to meet him,” Gellar said. “I will miss him every day, but I know the memory of him will live on.”
Response went to the top.
President Obama, alluding to Williams’ many movie characters, called him “an airman, a doctor, a genie, a nanny, a president, a professor, a bangarang Peter Pan — and everything in between.
“But he was one of a kind.”
Born in Chicago, Williams called himself a shy youth who was enchanted by comedians like the late Jonathan Winters — who by coincidence also suffered from bipolar disorder.
He attended Juilliard School for the Performing Arts in the early 1970s, and by 1973 could frequently be found performing as a mime on the sidewalks of Manhattan. He left at the suggestion of his instructor John Houseman, who said he was wasting his time in class and should try his hand at standup comedy.
Williams moved to San Francisco, started working the clubs and established a local reputation. That led to a guest spot on the sitcom “Happy Days,” where he was supposed to play Mork for two episodes. Response was so strong that the character was parlayed into a spinoff, which ran until 1982 — and was one of the few sitcoms in TV history that left wide passages of the script open for the lead actor to improvise.
“Mork” gave Williams the leverage to try the movies, though there was considerable skepticism over whether he could transcend that popular character.
He did — in addition to his Academy Award triumph in 1997, he earned three Best Actor nominations, for “The Fisher King,” “Dead Poets Society” and “Good Morning, Vietnam.” He was nominated for eight Emmys, winning two for comedy specials: “Carol, Carl, Whoopi and Robin” in 1987 and “ABC Presents: A Royal Gala” in 1988. He won four Golden Globes, two Screen Actors Guild Awards and five Grammy Awards.
But it came with a price — addictions to both cocaine and alcohol. After he checked into an Oregon rehab facility in 2006, he admitted he’d relapsed following two decades of sobriety.
“You’re standing at a precipice and you look down; there’s a voice, and it’s a little quiet voice that goes, ‘Jump!’ ” Williams told ABC News in October of that year. “The same voice that goes, ‘Just one.’ … And the idea of just one for someone who has no tolerance for it, that’s not the possibility.”
In a 2013 interview with CBS 2, he used self-deprecating humor to address his demons. “I’ve done the research on playing an alcoholic,” Williams joked.
“Having sobriety now (for) like seven years,” Williams continued, “they have these things when you’re drinking called ‘blackouts.’ It’s not really blackouts; it’s like sleepwalking with activities — but it’s the idea of, you know, ‘Yeah, I’m more focused on the present,’ and that helps, especially when you’re doing a series.
“When I did ‘Mork and Mindy,’ it was just sort of a crazy ride, and I was on pretty much everything but skates. But now, to be here and doing this is to appreciate it and participating, saying: ‘What can I bring to it, and how can I help.’ “
He is survived by his wife, Susan, and three adult children from his previous marriages.
With Nancy Dillon
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