With Robin Williams at the cusp of what would become a very successful film career, A Night at the Met served as a kind of standup swan song for him. He had already made a considerable impression on the public, both as the lovable alien Mork and through his frenetically paced standup routines, but cocaine addiction threatened to derail his skyrocketing career -- the fuel for his fire was serving to burn him out as well. Cleansed of that addiction, A Night at the Met found Williams full of the same energy and maniacal pace that endeared him to his audience in the first place -- only, this time, the fuel was strictly internal. Overcoming addiction left Williams with a smorgasbord of hilarious and poignant material at his disposal and his wry and intelligent musings on the dangers of overindulgence held extra weight, because he had been there. Ruminations on drugs, relationships, and the Reagan administration were observationally dead-on and served up with a side of Williams' trademark, telling sentimentality. The sentimental and the hilarious reached a crescendo when the subject matter turned to the birth of his son. Among the pregnancy and pee jokes, Williams injected serious concerns for the future with a glimmer of hope that all might not be as dismal as it seemed. Hilarious, poignant, outrageous, and heartwarming, A Night at the Met came at a unique time -- capturing Robin Williams at both his career and personal best.
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