DISGRACELAND - Presenting Hollywoodland - Robin Williams: A Manic Mind at Breakneck Speed, an Addiction to Laughter, and the Devil’s Dandruff

Episode Date: July 19, 2025

Robin Williams’ manic mind moved at such a breakneck speed that cocaine had the opposite effect than it had on most other people: it slowed him down. Robin’s primary addiction, however, wasn’t cocaine. He was addicted to the dopamine rush of being on a stage, where he could let his mind run wild with free association, and be rewarded with uproarious laughter. He was addicted to proving himself as a dramatic actor, even if that meant attempting to trigger his own mental breakdown by running in place for hours. And when he died tragically at the age of 63, the cause of his death was surprisingly not what anyone suspected. It still isn’t. This episode contains themes that may be disturbing to some listeners, including suicide. If you're thinking about suicide or are worried about a friend or loved one, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. Subscribe to Hollywoodland wherever you get your podcasts. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Moderato from Stranger Things, Tanna Mongeau, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Sometimes a suspect is found guilty before a verdict is ever read in court. On the Wicked Words podcast, I talk with the writers who dig deep into the cases that changed history,

including Marsha Clark, who went from prosecuting one of the most famous murder cases to writing crime fiction. It doesn't matter that you didn't take part in the murder. If you were at the scene at all, you're guilty of murder. Every week, the real story is revealed. Join us every Monday for new episodes of Wicked Words. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, disgrace, and listeners, if you're listening to me, then you are in for a treat.

Right here, right now, we are presenting to you our Robin Williams episode of the Hollywoodland podcast. Hollywoodland is, of course, our podcast from the corner of Hollywood in true crime. Much like Disgraceland, yes, but different from Disgraceland. Hollywoodland features actors and actresses and directors, and Disgraceland features, of course, musicians. And most important, Hollywoodland is only available in the Hollywoodland podcast feed with the exception of this episode right here on Robin Williams. So if you want to hear more stories from Hollywood, you have to follow, subscribe for free, and listen in the Hollywoodland feed in your Spotify app or Apple podcast app or wherever you get your podcast. Because after this here, Robin Williams episode, there will be no more Hollywoodland episodes in the disgrace land feed.

And we have a ton of great stories on Hollywood legends. Marlon Brando, Bruce Lee, Sharon Stone, Drew Barrymore, Jack Nicholson. The list goes on and on and on. And all of those episodes, like I said, can be heard by searching Hollywoodland in your Spotify or Apple Podcast. apps or wherever you get your podcasts and following, subscribing for free, and listening along. So, you know, go do that. Until then, here's a taste of what you're missing with our Robin Williams episode of Hollywoodland. This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners.

Please check the show notes for more information. Hollywoodland is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Robin Williams are insane. His manic mind moved at such a breakneck speed that cocaine had the opposite effect than it had on most other people. It slowed him down. Speaking of cocaine, he did a line with John Belushi at the fame Chateau Marmau. On the very night, Juliet, Jake Blues died from shooting up a speedball. Robin's primary addiction, however, wasn't cocaine.

He was addicted to the company of women. He was addicted to the dopamine rush of being on a seat. stage, where he could let his mind run wild with free association and be rewarded with uproarious laughter. He was addicted to proving himself as a dramatic actor, even if that meant attempting to trigger his own mental breakdown by running in place for hours. And when he did die, tragically, at the age of 63, the cause of his death was surprisingly not what anyone suspected. It still isn't. and Robin Williams made great films.

Unlike that clip I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't a clip from a great film. That was a fair use sample from the Library of Congress of Arthur Collins performing Susie Woozy in 1902. I played you that clip because I can't afford the rights to a clip from Jonathan Leavenman's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. And why would I play you that specific slice

of Cowabunga reboot, Geez, could I afford it? Because that was the number one movie in America on August 11, 2014. And that was the day that Robin Williams' body was found at his home in California. A shocking death that revealed hidden secrets about his life. In this episode, a manic mind, cocaine, dopamine rushes, mental breakdowns, and Robin Williams. I'm Jake Brennan. and this is Hollywoodland.

Am Dauber didn't have to turn around to know who was thrusting something long and hard against her ass. She knew her co-star would be right behind her, dressed in his bright red leotard a cane in his hand. He always knew when she was a little off and needed a perk me up. It worked. Ham couldn't help but laugh. This was a typical moment on the set of Mork and Mindy. Robin Williams had shown up late in bleary eyes. as usual. Then they immediately

get to work without missing a beat, only ever interrupting the rehearsal to pull some endearingly inappropriate prank like pretending to shove a cane up her ass. Pam had a sisterly affection for the hairy goofball so she didn't mind. They'd do what they always did.

Laugh, move on, work another scene. Then she'd go home for the night and get ready to do it all again the next day. But not Robin. Once they finish shooting, Robin slipped back into his trademark rainbow suspenders, strapped on a pair of roller skates, and cruised his way through the Paramount Studio lot with a dorky grin on his face.

He grabbed a ham sandwich as he skated past a craft food cart, spitting his way around frantic production assistants and set dressers, carrying tables across the way to yet another soundstage. Eventually, he made his way to L.A.'s sunset strip. He did a line of cocaine in the parking lot outside the comedy store, ordered a rum and coke at the bar as he watched Richard Pryor or Jonathan Winters or some no-name prankster try to coax a chuckle from the crowd. Then Robin Williams hopped on stage and grabbed the mic himself.

Most comedians had a tightly scripted 10-minute set, but Robin's style was always a bit more freewheeling. You couldn't even tell the difference between the jokes that he'd rehearsed and the ones he'd made up on the spot. Do you think God gets stoned? Just look at the platypus. As soon as he was done, Robin was off to see his buddy, Taylor and Gron at the Laugh Factory. Do another line, have another rum and coke, maybe flirt with the waitress, and then get back on the microphone.

I fucked the prostitute when I turned 21. I was so bad she gave me a refund. Cue the laugh track and the flood of endorphins. That's when Robin would see another old friend in the corner of the bar. Maybe this time it would be Jim Stahl from Happy Days. The two then would have another drink, maybe a quick bump. Okay, just one more and find another girl to flirt with. Sometimes you get to go out of your way to get into trouble.

It's called fun. And then it was off to the next stop at the night. Maybe this time it would be the Comedy Magic Club. That was all the way out in Hermosa Beach, but Robin's buddy was dating this model who lived around the corner, and her place was always packed with beautiful drugs and even more beautiful women. Besides, the night was young, and he didn't have to be on set for another eight hours.

And if he was still awake when the sun came up again, well, that's why there was cocaine. The devil's dandruff, Peruvian merchant powder, God's way of telling you you're making too much money. Ask anyone who knew Robin Williams and they'd tell you he was fast. Not just on his roller skates or the way he talked. His brain itself moved at breakneck speed. It had nothing to do with the cocaine. Hell, most folks said the drug slowed him down more than anything.

What would have been uppers for anyone else brought his manic mind back down to the level that most people called reaction. made it easier for him to relate to other people and focus on the conversation at hand instead of firing off another impulse in his supersonic synapses. Robin existed on a totally different wavelength from the rest of the world. It's what made him such a damn good performer, but it also made him lonely. He was always out of sync, functioning on a different frequency than everybody else. He'd been that way since he was a kid. He was an only child as far as he knew.

His cold, alcoholic father had a corporate job that meant the family moved around a lot, which made it harder for Robin to form new friendships. His mom was a socialite who used her wit to charm strangers, and maybe to deflect from her own loneliness. Humor was the fastest way to her affection, and that left an impression on young Robin, who spent the rest of his childhood inside of his own head. Making someone laugh was the only way he knew to make a genuine human connection.

And that's not to say that Robin couldn't be serious. After all, he'd attended the prestigious Juilliard school for acting. And although he did drop out once, he realized that the school's traditional approach couldn't do much for him. Later in life, Robin would be celebrated for his dramatic roles in films like Dead Poets Society, the Fisher King, and Goodwill Hunting. But his comedy was always a constant. More than women and more than alcohol and even more than cocaine,

Robin Williams was addicted to the dopamine rush of being on stage, saying whatever came into his mind and lighting the audience up in hysterics. It was the closest he could come to that ineffable something he was craving, but it still wasn't quite enough to sate his frantic mind. Maybe that's why most of Robin's friends were also comedians like Richard Pryor and John Belushi. They understood the craving and the thrill, the transcendent energy of feeding off the audience like a vampire. But Robin also envied them as artists, the way they turned their own vulnerabilities into weapons of hilarious delight. Robin always wanted to create that sort of confessional comedy, but he was afraid of what he'd find when he'd mind the depths of his own brain. During one of his many marathon LA comedy nights in the early 80s,

Robin ended up at John Belushi's bungalow at the Chateau Marmont on Sunset Boulevard. He got there around 2 a.m., just as Robert De Niro was leaving. Belushi was pretty out of it. He could barely form words. He strummed a boxing guitar. The sunken night, hippie chicks sitting next to him had a creepy smile. She kept fiddling with a syringe. It was a bad vibe.

Robin stuck around long enough to do obligatory line and then he got the hell out of there. The next day, back on the set of Mork and Mindy, he couldn't stop thinking about the night before. Robin wasn't one to judge someone else's drug use, but the scene at Belushi's had been too weird to ignore. That girl, that needle. When Pam Daubert asked her she could talk to him during a break in that day's shoot, Robin could tell it was serious.

Pam had been sent by the show's producers to break the news. John Belushi was dead. Robin could easily guess why. Pam was sent to soften the blow. They didn't want Robin to get too upset. They also knew that Robin had been with Belushi during his final. final hours and they needed to cover their asses in case their star was an accessory to manslaughter. Robin stood there wide-eyed with his hands folded at his waist while Pam talked.

When he finally spoke, Robin just kept repeating, I was there last night, I was with him. I was there last night, I was with him. Pam tried to comfort her friend, but eventually something inside of her snapped. She placed her hands on Robin's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. If that ever happens to you, Pam said, I will find you and kill you first. Robin smiled cautiously. He reassured Pam that it would never happen to him. Swear to God, he hated lying to his friends.

There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist.

I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always,

can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him. in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance, like he's about to attack me, like,

making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yello-O. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts.

Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kimman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things.

Sanna-Majou, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcast. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened.

His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists, who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do. You know, you look back at it,

and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The Frog Prince was, pissed. You could see it in the deadness of his bulging plastic eyes. Fuck ABC. Fuck every single one of those corporate shitheads in their stupid fucking suits.

He ripped the web fingers off his hands and began to pound the green rubber head on his shoulders with his own fleshy fists. They don't have any fucking taste. Wouldn't know a good joke if they got their fucking dicks wet. Fuck! It was 1982. Robin Williams was playing the title role of the Frog Prince in the debut episode of Fairy Tale Theater. A new anthology series for the cable network showtime directed by Monty Python's Eric Idle. Robin didn't know what was worse, receiving the news that his sitcom, Mork and Mindy, had just been canceled, or the fact that he had to process that news while being stuck inside of a stupid fucking sweaty-ass frog costume. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who'd describe Robin Williams as short-tempered or difficult,

but press a little harder, and they'd admit that, yeah, they'd seen him have a random meltdown here and there. just maybe not while wearing a giant rubber frog suit. At the time of the frog prince fiasco, Robin was struggling to break into movies. Mork and Mindy was a steady paycheck, but Robin knew he was meant for something else. He just didn't know what or how to make it happen. His only other credit at that point

was a low-budget musical version of Popeye the Sailor Man. And even though auteur Robert Altman directed the picture and the legendary Harry Nilsse composed the music, The end result was so embarrassingly bad that it became a running gag in Robin's stand-up. Blow me down. Are you fucking kidding me? That line actually worked on a woman. Robin's wife Valerie had moved back up to Napa Valley in the meantime. She wanted to avoid the LA spotlight. She knew that Robin liked the adoration, but it just wasn't her scene.

For a while, the two of them only saw each other on the weekends or in between projects. But something changed that summer when Valerie told Robin she was, was pregnant. Robin had been trying to take it easy on the drugs after Belushi's death. The sudden realization that he was going to have a son made him finally get serious about sobriety and he quit booze and coke straight away. No 12 steps or therapy or feel-good programs. Just cold turkey. A few weeks later, his next movie outing, The World According to Garb, hit hit hit Theatres, and the John Irving book became an almost instant hit at the box office. things were finally looking up in more ways than one.

Later in life, in a letter to his son, Zach, Robin would write that his birth gave him a new sense of meaning and focused into his life. It also gave him plenty of new material. My God, it's a boy, and he's hung like a bear. Wait, no, that's the umbilical cord. Of course, there were some habits Robin still couldn't break. One was his addiction to the rush of stand-up comedy and the high that he got from the crowd.

He'd find any excuse to leave Valerie behind with the baby in Napa and head to L.A. to indulge in another one of those infamous all-night comedy marathons. He even learned to enjoy them without the help of mind-altering substances. Which brings us to the other habit that Robin Williams couldn't break. Women. Robin had always messed around. In the past, Valerie would either give him her blessing or at least forgive him. She knew her husband was a star. She couldn't help the fact that women threw themselves at him.

Besides, he was out on the road a lot all by himself. But after Zach was born, it got harder for her to go along with it. She resented the fact that she was stuck at home with a baby while her husband was off gallivanting with some hot young thing. And Robin wasn't dumb. He knew it was getting to her. He tried to keep it in his pants for a while, but then another opportunity would present itself.

And as Valerie once said, you'd have to be a saint to resist. And Robin was certainly no saint. God gave men a penis and a brain, and only enough blood to use one at a time. Robin met Michelle Tash Carter at the improv in 1984, where she was working as a cocktail waitress. The 21-year-old had spent her teenage years touring the country as a musician, and now she was looking for her big break in L.A.

Robin's career wasn't quite in a spot where he could help her out with that, but he could still take her home. Again, this wasn't Robin's first affair, and again, Val insisted she was fine with it. At first, on the surface anyway. It's not like Robin had any investment in Michelle. They had no emotional relationship. They were just fucking, casually and regularly.

For about two years, while Robin and Val drifted further and further apart. And by the time Robin called things off with Michelle, his marriage was already dead in the water. And then Michelle told Robin, she was also pregnant with his child and that he had given herpes. A woman would never make something as deadly as a nuke. She'd invent something worse, like a bomb that makes you feel. really bad for a while. It turned out Michelle was not telling the truth, instead just trying to extort

Robin for his money. When he refused to give it to her lies, she sued him for $6 million for personal injury, fraud, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. At this point, Robin and Valerie were just starting their formal divorce process. Michelle Carter wasn't the reason for the split, but the added stress didn't make it any easier. Robin was already ashamed. he had let his marriage fall apart. And now he also lived in constant fear that Michelle's baseless claims would create a PR nightmare

that would skewer his career. Beloved comedian settles Herpes lawsuit and 48 point font on the front page. More than anything, he was terrified of what it might do to three-year-old Zach. Robin couldn't bear the thought of disappointing his son, especially after the

estrangement he had felt from his own father, who Robin had just reconnected with, after learning that the elder Williams was dying of cancer. While all of this was happening, the divorce, the cancer, the affair, the lawsuit, Robin also began a new relationship with Marcia Grace, who had been Zach's nanny, and later Robin's personal assistant. Things with Valerie were over and done before anything happened with Marcia, but the

press still spun it into a bigger, uglier drama than it actually was. And of course, this all exploded publicly right as Robin's dramatic acting career. was finally taking off. It was like the ups and downs he'd experienced in the 80s had also helped him tap into the darkness he'd been carrying around for his entire life. Nowhere was this more apparent than on the set of the Fisher King,

the 1991 film directed by Terry Gilliam, another former Monty Python member. Robin was cast in the role of Perry, a man dealing with homelessness and severe mental illness who thinks he's on a quest to find the Holy Grail. Robin beat himself up on set most days, either because he was worried about disappointing fans who liked him for his comedy or because he didn't think that he was going dark enough. He was filming a scene on the treadmill, running in place so that Gilliam could get some close-ups during what became a terrifying hallucination sequence.

It was late at night, but Robin kept running. He'd scream in agony, gripping at his heart with sweat pouring down his face as he tried to trigger his own breakdown. Gilliam said he got the shot he needed. Robin flipped. No, it's not real yet. He was heaving, short of death, feet still pounding on the mat as he screamed. I can go deeper, I can feel more, show more. Gileum reminded Robin that it's acting.

It's not supposed to be real. He encouraged him to save his energy, but Robin wouldn't listen. He yelled at the crew for rushing him through the scene, even though he'd already been running in place for hours. These outbursts became more common as they kept filming. There were some nights when Robin's intensity legitimately terrified the crew. But he showed his silly side just as often, using his improv skills to scare away the vagrants

who'd wander onto set during late-night shoots in Central Park. He reveled in the scenes that had him running naked through the park proudly shaking his hairy ass at the New York City skyline. Another night, a pack of pigeons unleashed an onslaught of runny white shit onto him and his co-star Jeff Bridges right when they finished filming an emotional scene at 4 in the morning. Bridges said it was the only time

he saw Robin at a loss for words. After the movie came out, Robin sat for an interview with Playboy magazine. At the end of the conversation, the interviewer asked Robin if he had any fears of losing the balance between his public and his private life. He responded by comparing himself to Jersey Kaczynski in a claim to author who had just recently died by suicide,

after suffering a debilitating stroke. He just didn't want to become a vegetable. He didn't want to lose his sharpness, Robin said. If I felt like I was becoming not just dull but a rock, that I still couldn't spark, still fire off, or talk about things, I'd get afraid. Robin explained that he had to keep finding new ways to let his mind run wild, because that's what kept him stable.

He didn't mention the bird shit. We'll be right back after this world. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that, trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends...

Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed I will be his last target.

He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. And like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever.

And my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance. Like he's about to attack me. Like making karate noises.

And his entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going. And the air marshal is trying. trying to grab my arms and screaming. And I immediately know that I've been at sleepwalk. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban.

Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Madarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Marone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Remember when you'd walk into your local video rental place and there were always those two employees behind the counter arguing about movies?

Well, that's us. I'm Millie de Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast. Dear Movies I Love You from the Exactly Right Network. Can I say something about the Criterion Clause? Go ahead, dude. They're letting too many people in there. Okay, that's another film, Gripe I got two. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore.

It's probably a store that sells running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra pee and an E at the end. So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form. I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Tatum was. Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over, from hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The sudden knock on the door made Robin Williams jump so high he almost dropped his bottle.

It's hard to get that sour mash smell out of the carpet. Harder still to hide it from your friends. Who is it? It was men. Robin's long-time makeup artists. A new drugstore was opening up downtown. Min's heard they might cut a ribbon, blow up some balloons, might even be cake. Oh yeah? Wow, that sounds like a rollicking way to spend the day. Robin rolled his eyes and took another swing of Jack. If only there was literally anything else to do here in nowhere, Yukon territory.

They were there to work on an indie flick called The Big White. It was a smaller production than Robin and his team were used to. It was a lot colder and more desolate. it than they expected. We could always go outside and throw a cup of coffee up in the air, Robin said. We can see if it'll freeze before it hits the fucking ground. As he took another drink, he realized Min's was right. A pharmacy opening probably was the most exciting thing that was ever going to happen there.

Fine, he'd be right out. Robin opened the door to find Min's frowning. She looked them up and down, once, twice, and then again. She took a big cartoonish whiff of him and crossed her arms. What? Robin tried to play innocent, but he knew that she knew exactly what was going on. He reeked of whiskey. He was wasted.

He was eager to make some mistakes. The Big White seemed like a small commitment when Robin took the job in the spring of 2004. A few weeks in Yukon, and then another few in Skagway, Alaska, and then back to the Yukon before wrapping up in Winnipeg. Besides, he'd never acted in sub-zero temperatures before, so it sounded like a fun challenge. But the lonely tundra also gave him plenty of time to reflect on his failings. There were no comedy clubs out there, no laughing crowds to distract him from himself. Robin's mind had nowhere to hide, and he didn't like his own company. At a local grocery store, a nip of Jack Daniels caught his eye.

It had been almost 21 years since he'd gone cold turkey, so he figured he could handle it, just to take the edge off, right? Within a week, you could hear the bottles clinking everywhere he went. In the decade or so leading up to his relapse, Robin's career had been a roller coaster. Straight off the Fisher King, he starred in massive Hollywood hits like Hook and Jumangi. He had even more success with his voiceover work on Fern Gully and Aladdin, although he got into a bit of a pissing match with Disney over using his voice to sell shitty toys to children. As an alcoholic, you will violate your standards quicker than you can lower them. Robin had spent the 90s working to the bone,

filming projects back to back and releasing up to four films a year. And all those highs were met with even deeper lows. For every Mrs. Doubtfire, there was a flubber or a father's day, an absolute critical and financial disaster. Even Robin's most successful projects still put him in the crosshairs of the critics who said he was too silly or too saccharine or too sentimental or just to Robin Williams, phoning in some weird performance that was maybe entertaining on its own, but never quite connected to the rest of the movie.

He finally won his first Oscar in 1998 for his role as a therapist in Goodwill Hunting. And 18 months later, he was a joke again, thanks to Bicentennial Man. By the time Robin got to Alaska, he had plenty of regrets to dwell on. So he crawled inside a bottle to quiet his thoughts. Then, six months later, his best best...

friend passed away. Robin had met Christopher Reeve in college, and their ascents into stardom had been almost parallel. Chris was even godfather to Robin's son, Zach. They both struggled with the balance of their personal and professional lives, except that Chris had literally been both Clark Kent and Superman. After a horse riding accident left Chris paralyzed, Robin renovated his friend's entire home to make sure everything was still accessible for Chris's new wheelchair. The news of Chris's death sent Robin spiraling further. Being a functioning alcoholic is kind of like being a paraplegic lap dancer. You can do it, just not as well as the others.

Things came to a head the next year at Thanksgiving. Imagine, a shit-faced Robin Williams with an uncooked turkey neck dangling out of his pants as he slurred his way through a monologue about his tender meat. Do you think God was high when he made dicks? And yeah, we'll just pull this part back and put a mushroom at the tip and bam, we're done. Oh, let's put some balls at the bottom. Balls are fun. Who doesn't like balls? It got so bad that Zach, now in college, had to carry his father up the stairs and wrestle him onto the bed. But Robin still hadn't found his rock bottom. Not even in 2006, I can. When he drunkenly dropped

hundreds of thousands of dollars at a charity auction. At one point, Robin stumbled up to the podium with a pair of designer sunglasses on to hide his bloodshot eyes and proudly proclaimed, I just bought a $40,000 Coke file. It was actually a diamond necklace from Armani. The paparazzi were there to document the night, so Robin thought the ruse was up. He was so clearly tanked that someone had to figure it out. But everyone else thought it was one big joke, and everyone adored Robin's wacky improv skills.

Everyone, that is, except his wife. Marsha Grace was mortified, until she saw how much money he'd spent on that private Whitecloth Sean concert. 80 grand. Then she was just pissed. A few weeks later, Robin sat naked in a hotel room with his pal Jack Daniels by his side. Fuck life, he said out loud. A little voice inside his head was sober enough to hear him. It spoke back.

Seriously? What the fuck? You know you got it pretty fucking good, right? You think maybe that bottle there might be influencing your thought process? Great. So let's save the suicide discussion for another day. Maybe after we start therapy. Not long after, Zach got the family together to stage an intervention.

Robin agreed to spend the summer of 2006 at a residential rehabilitation center in Oregon. He was still a little hesitant about the 12-step program. After all, he'd gone cold turkey once before he could do it again, right? But then he realized that was exactly the problem. He had never stopped to reflect on why he'd been abusing drugs and alcohol the first time around. Robin's time in Oregon brought him clarity and helped him find a new perspective on life. His new commitment to sobriety meant new beginnings. Zach had just moved to New York with his own fiancée and Robin was eager to get to know him as an adult instead of just as a son.

He was just as excited to see his daughter, Zelda, finish high school and moved to L.A. to start her own acting career. But his relationship with Marsha Grace never quite recovered. The betrayal of his relapse and the lies that came. along with it, had left a wound too deep to heal. But it wasn't just emotional wounds that Robin had to contend with, or the crazy shit he had done while he was high. It was something else, something inside of him, waiting to go out of sink. One final.

Robin Williams couldn't stay single for long. In 2011, he got married again, this time to a visual artist named Susan Schneider. Together they settled into a new home in the Bay Area. in a small town of 10,000 people. When he wasn't doing stand-up at the local community theater or nearby playhouse, he went to regular meetings for his 12-step program, even returned to Broadway for a stint. As Robin entered into his sixth decade of life,

he was finally feeling content and ready to enjoy things at a slower, steadier pace. But Robin's brain was always fast, and it slowed down even faster. In 2013, Robin took another team, gig on a show called The Crazy Ones. It was his first regular sitcom role since Mork and Mindy, and seemed like a nice, easy paycheck at the time.

But he had trouble keeping up his energy, and even more trouble hiding it. He thought maybe it was a lack of a live studio audience to feed off of. And then his body started aching in new and unexpected ways. And things got worse from there. At one point, the producers convinced his old Mark co-star Pam Dauber to come out of retirement. for a recurring role in the show, in the hopes that it might get Robin's spirits up. It didn't. After the show ended, Robin traveled to Vancouver to reprise his role as Teddy Roosevelt in the third night at the museum movie. Mins, his longtime makeup artist, went with him, as usual.

And once again, she knew something was up. She found him in his hotel room, sobbing. The hell is wrong with me, Robin asked. Can't even remember my goddamn lines. Minz thought maybe he just needed that audience adrenaline, and that always cheered him up. She'd gotten him by the arm to try and pull him off the bed, which was far easier than she expected. He'd lost a lot of weight. She reminded him about a comedy club down the street, and they should go check it out. Robin looked at Min's with sunken eyes. His heart began racing faster, faster, faster still, a steady rhythm pounding in his ears,

a pulsing pain that started in his core and pushed up through the center of his skull. He clenched a hand against his chest as if he could stop his lungs from shriveling tighter inside of him. I can't mince, he said. Room seemed to shrink and then collapse all around him. The walls heaved in and out. He tried to breathe, but it was like someone was squeezing his throat shut. There was no way out, no way out of the room, no way out of his mind. Several weeks after Robin suffered a full-blown panic attack, a doctor diagnosed him with Parkinson's disease.

Robin probably had at least ten good years left in him if he did. things right. But Robin's relief was short-lived. He wasn't having any trouble with motor functions. Whatever was happening to him. It was in his mind. Robin went home to his wife, Susan, and suddenly started losing entire days as soon as they happened. I just want to reboot my brain, he told her. Some days, he'd call Zach ranting paranoid about how Susan's friends were all drug addicts out to steal his money and then forget the entire conversation. One night Robin saw fellow comedian Dana Carvey in the parking lot at the Bay Area Theater that had become his second home. Robin ran after him, pleading, tears streaming down his face.

I'm sorry about my dick, he said. How I call it Mr. Happy, that was your joke. I stole it from you all those years ago, and I just pretended like it never happened. I'm so sorry. Dana held Robin while he cried and gently tried to explain that, actually, that wasn't his dick joke. If Robin had stolen it, he must have gotten it from someone else. And this just made Robin even more careful.

confused. Over the course of that summer in 2014, Robin's friends and family became increasingly concerned about his behavior. They all tried in their own ways to gently intervene. On a Sunday night in August, he said goodnight to his wife, did some reading on his iPad, then went into the other room and hanged himself. After Robin's death by suicide, a medical autopsy revealed that nearly every single neuron in his brain had been ravaged by Louie bodies. These are the same degenerative proteins that caused Parkinson's, but Robin was actually suffering from a different disease, a cousin of Parkinson's, called Louie Body Dementia. Several doctors said he had the single worst case they'd ever seen. Instead of affecting Robin's motor skills, the Louie bodies

attacked his amygdala in his brain, rapidly destroying his ability to process memories, make decisions or regulate his emotions. By the time of his death, nearly half of the dopamine neurons in his brain had been destroyed. There's an old joke. Guy goes to a shrink, says he's depressed. Shrink tells him to go see a clown called Paliachi,

who's performing in town that night. That'll cheer him up. And then the guy says, but doctor, I am Paliachi. It's not uncommon to hear about depressed comedians, but that's not what happened with Robin Williams. Sure, he struggled with his mental health for other reasons throughout his life. Obviously, no one could know what was going through his head at the time of his death,

but the Louie Body dementia meant that he was literally losing his entire sense of pleasure or reward. By the time he died, Robin was physiologically incapable of being happy. Robin Williams' Blitzkrieg brain was his greatest gift to the world. It was also the thing that killed him. But like the man himself once said, Death is just nature's way of saying, your table's ready. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Hollywood Land.

The Woodland was created by years truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Follow, like, rate and review Hollywoodland wherever you get your podcast, and get in touch with us on social media at Double Elvis. If you like Hollywood Land, check out my other show, the award-winning Discrace Land, which looks at the world of music

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He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark.

When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. And my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yello. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary. Gaten Moderato from Stranger Things.

Tana Monsu. Camilla Marone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Movies can make you feel, make you dream. Sometimes they even make you appreciate architecture.

Is there anybody who's been hotter in a doorway than Elizabeth Taylor? That's the kind of analysis you'll find every week on Dear Movies I Love You, the new podcast from the Exactly Right Network. Every Tuesday, we break down the films we're crushing on, from blockbusters to deep cuts. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.