Robin Williams sheds his Disney persona in a stand-up show for adults only
Don't take the kids.
If you think one of Robin Williams' shows at the Paramount this weekend would make a nice family outing (if a bit pricey), then you're confusing Robin Williams the movie star with Robin Williams the stand-up comedian.
The rubber-faced, madcap funnyman has made a bunch of family-friendly movies ("Patch Adams," "Flubber," "Jumanji," "Mrs. Doubtfire," "Aladdin"), and first gained fame as the lovable alien Mork from Ork on "Happy Days" and then "Mork & Mindy." But in those roles he reined in his flair for sexual, profanity-laced comedy, which he was known for when he started out in San Francisco comedy clubs in the 1970s.
The raunchy Williams resurfaces occasionally on cable TV, most notably in the yearly "Comic Relief" benefits he co-hosts with Whoopi Goldberg and Billy Crystal. But most of the time when he appears on talk shows hyping his latest movie, he's a motormouth cut-up, occasionally making suggestive jokes, but never anything blatant.
Scratch Williams the clown and you find Williams the satyr, full of raucous sexual energy, and Williams the court jester, poking fun at politicians and current events. That's the personality, or personalities, that will be holding forth on the Paramount stage.
Williams' last stand-up tour was 16 years ago. His current 10-week, 27-city outing (which ends next weekend in Las Vegas) marks a turning point. Not only is he back doing adult comedy, his current and upcoming movie roles have him playing unlikable heavies, including murderers and psychopaths.
In theaters now is "Death to Smoochy," in which Williams plays the nasty, murderous host of a kiddie TV show. Coming May 24 is "Insomnia," with Williams playing a psychotic murder suspect tracked by cop Al Pacino in a small Alaskan town. In "One Hour Photo," which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January and opens nationwide in September, Williams plays a creepy photo-shop clerk who stalks a family.
The changes in Williams may have to do with his recent 50th birthday. That's a time to take stock of one's career and contemplate mortality. Perhaps Williams has decided that it's time to take chances, to stretch as an actor and, perhaps, to shock some of his complacent fans with ribald routines as a comic.
Politically, he's a lefty, hurling barbs at conservatives — which goes against his patrician upbringing. Williams, an only child, grew up in luxury in the suburbs of Detroit, where his father was an executive at the Ford Motor Co. His mother (who died late last year) was a former model. He has described his father as remote and frequently absent, and his mother as cheerful and self-involved. Growing up in big houses with no other children around, he invented imaginary friends and played various characters in his own fantasies.
The family moved to Marin County, Calif., where Williams went to high school. He studied drama for three years at The Juilliard School in Manhattan before returning to San Francisco and the comedy-club circuit.
From the beginning, he was known as a brilliant, manic stand-up comedian who would do anything for a laugh. He is a man of a million voices, from squeaky talking babies to blaring monsters. His comedy is physical, with lots of movement onstage. Much of what he does is improvisational. No comedian can riff spontaneously as well as Williams does.
He also does his homework. Expect him to open his shows here with lots of local topical references. Two video screens make it possible for everyone in the theater to get close-up looks at his mugging, including those sexually graphic jokes.
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