by Katherine Lavacca
Robin Williams, the man of many voices, had a profound effect on audiences throughout his career.
In particular his portrayal of the cross dressing, beloved Mrs. Doubtfire is something that can always lift my spirits when I’ve had a terrible week. I always felt that Williams was a man who let his characters’ spontaneity and light-hearted nature follow him off screen and into his daily life. Williams was a truly gifted man who inspired me with his extraordinary ability to persevere through his struggles with depression and still provide joy to people he had never met.
To commemorate this amazing man the Tampa Theatre gave a special free screening of The Dead Poet Society. I was immediately struck by the serene atmosphere of the theatre itself, it was almost like stepping into the 1920’s, when the theatre was first built. Not only was I able to remember Williams’ by watching what I feel is his best performance, I was also able to give a close friend, Jordan Walsh, the opportunity to see the movie for the first time. The movie has always had a special place in my heart since I first watched it in an American Literature class in high school, and it was a treat being able to share such a meaningful movie with someone who also cherished Williams’ films.
As John Keating, a freethinking professor at a prestigious boys’ school, Williams connected with audiences on a new level in the film The Dead Poet Society. The movie follows a group of young men who are in the process of being molded into societies finest doctors and lawyers, even if their own aspirations are different from their parents’. Everything is thrown on its head when professor Keating decides to give the boys access to something they’ve never had: the freedom to think for themselves.
Professor Keating drops major knowledge bombs for his students, which resound for audience members as advice they can learn to live by:
“Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ Don’t be resigned to that. Break out!”
Although we may never experience a new Robin Williams performance, there are still numerous lessons we can learn from his extraordinary performances, and his humble and truly inspirational life. As Williams once said, “You’re only given one little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.” Let his legacy live on and guide you to always keep that little spark of madness alive.
Katherine Lavacca can be reached at katherine.lavacca@theminaretonline.com
by Jack Whitaker
Like many others, I was disheveled when I discovered the great Robin Williams had died. Also like many others I found it appropriate to seek out a Williams’ film to watch and reminisce on simpler times. However, unlike many people I was graced with the opportunity to view one of them, The Dead Poet Society, at the beautiful Tampa Theatre…FOR FREE! It was an incredible opportunity made possible by an organization that truly cares about the Tampa film-lover’s community and their affection for Hollywood legends such as our beloved Williams.
I showed up to a line that stretched around the corner of the theatre. Rather than the usual emotion evoked by the sight of lines –rage– I found myself quite happy at the turnout. It was magical to sit around and listen to people whisper to their friends early memories of Robins as the Genie, Peter Pan, and of course, Jumanji’s Alan Parrish. I quickly equipped myself with a cold Yuengling, a bag of popcorn and a comfortable seat. As always at the Tampa Theatre, a member of the Central Florida Theatre Organ Society (CFTOS), an elderly fellow, played his jam for the last thirty minutes following up to the start of the film; he was on key that night as a packed house waited eagerly to see an old friend on the screen. Soon the film began and the crowd was showered with the beautiful advice of a man giving an incredibly deep and insightful view of life to a group of boys. His words touched me deeply, as I’m an english major and one who thinks himself a literary legend like the Ole’ Captain.
As the movie progressed people laughed, cried, and forgot about life for a couple of hours; such is the power of Williams. He will be missed for the rest of our days, but he will be remembered for his films. This is the message the theatre wished to convey to the viewers that night: that although Williams may be gone, his work has made him an immortal source of beauty, laughter, and enlightenment that we’ll treasure until the end of time.
Jack Whitaker can be reached at richard.whitaker@theminaretonline.com
by Doha Madani
There are few times in life where I would fully advocate going to a movie alone after your friends cancelled, but as I rushed down the street towards Tampa Theatre all I could think was about how much I love Robin Williams. My mother always told me people who sat alone at the movies were weird, but commemorating one of my favorite actors one last time seemed more than worth being a stereotype.
Despite being in Tampa for over ten years, this was my first experience at the Tampa Theatre and I was almost overwhelmed with the classic beauty of the old architecture. Unfortunately for the building, I forgot about the setting as soon as the lights dimmed and I heard the familiar voice that seemed to follow me through my childhood.
This was not my first time watching this particular film, but something about the experience felt new. Maybe I was clouded by nostalgia, but I was hanging on every word alongside what had to have been 200 other people. We laughed together, cried together, and scoffed at the drunken idiots in front of us getting up every few minutes together.
There was something odd about watching Robin Williams’ character mourn a boy’s suicide knowing the actions he took. It was enough to make me pull my knees to my chest in order to quell the ache in my heart. He was a teacher that had been a part of my life since before I could sing along to Aladdin, and now he is gone.
Part of me didn’t want to get up out of my seat as the credits rolled, as if it was going to be the last magic moment that Robin Williams would gift me with. No matter how many movies I watch, or how many actors make me smile, I have to think that there will never be a friend like Robin Williams.
Doha Madani can be reached at doha.madani@theminaretonline.com