Prior to becoming a sitcom star and one of the hottest stand-up comics in America, Robin Williams was an aspiring dramatic actor, trained at Juilliard, and to a significant degree Williams’ career over the past 35 years has been defined by his desire to be taken seriously as a thespian, and not just remembered as Mork from Ork, or that fast-talking comedian who makes jokes about his penis. Egged on by critics who complained that his early films like Popeye and The World According To Garp didn’t make the best use of his quick wit and ebullience, Williams has sought out projects that let him be “himself,” which has meant being both improvisatory and serious. The result—almost from the start—has been movies split between heavy-handed messages and incongruous silliness.
At the time of its release in late 1987, Good Morning, Vietnam was hailed as the perfect match of actor and role. Playing real-life Vietnam-era Armed Forces Radio disc jockey Adrian Cronauer, Williams was given license to riff, free-associating about politics and popular culture, not unlike one of his own concerts. But just as Williams’ shtick no longer seems as electrifying as it once did, so Good Morning, Vietnam becomes almost painful to watch whenever Williams is behind the microphone, tossing out slogans and names and impressions with little regard for whether they cohere into anything like a joke—let alone the kind of joke anyone would be telling in 1965. (Making matters worse, director Barry Levinson keeps cutting to soldiers in hysterics at Williams’ antics, which is the visual equivalent to a laugh track.) Mitch Markowitz’s script then takes a turn to the maudlin as Williams risks dishonorable discharge by getting involved in the lives of the locals and by delivering censored news reports about what’s really going on in Vietnam.
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