Last Friday, fans flocked to the Fox Theatre in downtown Atlanta to watch Robin Williams perform, hoping that the comedian would begin where he left off after postponing his Weapons of Self-Destruction tour earlier this year. Williams canceled performances after undergoing an aortic valve replacement in March. While watching the vivacious 57-year-old perform with his characteristic high-energy mania for more than an hour and a half, it was difficult to believe he had endured such an intensive surgery.

As he ran on stage, dressed in all black save for his red sneakers, the audience burst into a standing ovation, a greeting to which Williams responded with a stern but comic, “Sit the f--k down.” Though his performances are often explicit, there is a certain class about Williams that makes his vulgarity work.
Many remember Williams’ comedic role in “Mrs. Doubtfire,” in which he portrays an elderly British nanny. This role was Williams at his comedic best, and at the Fox, this type of free-flowing, non-stop, hysterical humor was precisely what he delivered.

As front-row latecomers continued to arrive after Williams had begun his performance, he incorporated them into his act, poking fun at two women searching for their seat and one gentleman with a handful of drinks. Spotting the cocktails, Robin commented, “We’re going to have an interesting front row.”
Williams’ performance exuded an intimate, personable feel from the very start, with a consistent inclusion of the audience and regional jokes not simply about the South, but about Atlanta specifically.

With a packed venue in front of him and two large screens projecting the act behind him, the San Francisco resident touched on a wide array of subjects, including hybrid cars, his distaste for technology, what it was like to recover from alcoholism, politics, health-care reform, drugs and his recent surgery.
In a segment about technology, Williams performed a series of GPS-related jokes, the most memorable being his mocking of Atlanta’s abundance of Peachtree roadways and his suggestion for various talking GPS modules, such as one that ages with the driver.

Often alluding to his bouts as a recovering alcoholic, many of Williams’ jokes about alcoholism consisted of curt one-liners (“Being a functional alcoholic is like being a paraplegic lap-dancer. You can’t do it.”) weaved in among much longer acts.

Williams’ performance was full of drug references, including an extended re-enactment of Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Dock Ellis and his 1970s pitching of a “no-hitter” while on LSD.

In the spirit of the drug theme, Williams referred to his doctor as his “dealer” and playfully commented on a change of sentiment that went from “Drugs are bad” to his doctors insisting, “Robin, you need drugs to live.”

Throughout his action-packed performance, in which the energetic Williams could be likened to a cartoon character on ecstasy, the comedian paused only to take brief swigs from his water bottle. At the end of the show, Williams closed by paying homage to the late Walter Cronkite.

If his Atlanta performance is any indication of the spirit of his 2009 tour, there is indeed something subtly different, something nostalgic even, about this chapter of Williams’ stand-up comedy career.

With such a long history in the comedic world, Williams, who is perhaps one of the most talented humorists of our time, is always a treat to watch. His ability to recover from open-heart surgery whilst showing no signs of wear and tear, however, has added somewhat of a mystic quality to his performances. Thanks for the memories, Robin. We’re glad to have you back.

— Contact Surriya Ahmad.