A once-in-a-generation talent, Robin Williams could make anyone anywhere laugh. He also had the capacity to break our hearts—you may well up just thinking of his fatherly presence in Good Will Hunting (which earned him his only Academy Award out of four nominations), or the inspiring teacher he played in Dead Poets Society.

To the people who knew him best, though, what stood out was Williams’s infinite generosity—the genuine attention he paid to everyone in his orbit. On the 10-year anniversary of his untimely passing, we asked more than 20 of his costars, collaborators, and friends for their favorite memories of this kind, playful, and uniquely intelligent artist: an explosively energetic performer, an openhanded friend, a quiet man, a serious actor. Many of them started with their earliest recollections of the phenomenon that was Robin Williams.

Christine Baranski (The Birdcage costar): I would pass him in the Juilliard halls. I remember one of my classmates saying, “Have you seen this kid? He performs in front of The Metropolitan Museum. He’s absolutely extraordinary.” That was Robin Williams, mid-’70s.

Ben Stiller (Night at the Museum franchise costar): I was with my parents at the Improv Comedy Club in LA. A kid in this grown-up place, at the height of Mork & Mindy. He whispered in my ear, “Stay close to your mother. You’ll be safe.” I was of course freaking out. Working with him years later was a childhood dream come true.

Billy Crystal (friend, Comic Relief collaborator, Fathers’ Day costar): First time I met Robin was in San Francisco at a benefit for the Boarding House, a nightclub run by David Allen we both loved working for. An all-star group came to help him stay afloat: Steve Martin, Joan Baez, Martin Mull. He closed the show and was simply spectacular. Like a meteor was released in the room. An explosion.

Sarah Michelle Gellar (The Crazy Ones costar): Kindness was my first impression. He never felt like his job was done until he made everyone feel comfortable and happy.

Gale Hansen (Dead Poets Society costar): I first met him for the cast reading. Robin was watching everyone to see who we were. After the reading, he whispered in my ear, “We have a lot in common.” I looked at him, thinking, We have nothing in common. I’m nobody. He says, “You studied with Sandy Meisner. I studied with John Houseman at Juilliard.” It dawned on me: He was opening himself up in a unique place for every kid. We were intimidated; he took the anxiety out of the relationship.

Bobcat Goldthwait (friend, World’s Greatest Dad director): He would come to my shows in San Francisco. We bonded because they had a VHS—the Motown special with Michael Jackson moonwalking. We just sat there and watched it. That was the first time we started having real conversations. I wasn’t really interested in him entertaining me; probably why we became friends.

Al Pacino (Insomnia costar): I knew him through work only, and he was one of the most thoughtful and pleasant people I have ever met in that context. He is hypersensitive, which is part of his gift, and surprisingly mild-mannered. He kept it pretty close to the vest.

Jeff Bridges (The Fisher King costar): My first impression of Robin was what a serious cat he was. His humor was a tool he had in his gig bag that he could use. And he used it brilliantly.

Sally Field (Mrs. Doubtfire costar): I never shared this story before. I was in the camper outside of the courtroom where we were shooting the divorce scene. My father had a stroke a couple of years before, and was in a nursing facility. I got a phone call from the doctor saying my father had passed, a massive stroke. He asked if I wanted them to put him on the resuscitator. I said “No, he did not want that. Just let him go. And please lean down and say, ‘Sally says goodbye.’” I was of course beside myself. I came on the set trying with all my might to act. I wasn’t crying. Robin came over, pulled me out of the set, and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“I don’t know, just thought [I’d ask] that.”

“No, I’m not, Robin. My father just passed.”

“Oh my God, we need to get you out here right now.”

And he made it happen—they shot around me the rest of the day. I could go back to my house, call my brother, and make arrangements. It’s a side of Robin that people rarely knew: He was very sensitive and intuitive.

Mara Wilson (Mrs. Doubtfire costar): People are always surprised when I tell them that Robin could be very quiet. When I was nine, we did a table read of What Dreams May Come, shortly after my mother had died. He came up to me and very gently asked how I was, and how my family was, but didn’t bring up anything that could have been painful. He was just very sweet.

Bridges: When we lost a house during the [1994 Northridge] earthquake, he was my first friend to call: “Do you need anything? How are you money-wise?” Another example of his generosity: Robin had done Dead Poets Society with Peter Weir and acted as my agent, getting me the gig in Fearless.

Peter Weir (Dead Poets Society director): Robin held a small dinner in LA while I was casting Fearless, one guest being Jeff Bridges. Robin knew we’d get on, and we did. I wasn’t aware of Robin having set it up. If he did, I’ll be forever grateful.

Nathan Lane (The Birdcage costar): I performed this number that was eventually cut from the film: “Can That Boy Foxtrot!” from Follies. Robin had the day off, but came to the set because he wanted to be there for me. I remember [The Birdcage director] Mike Nichols saying, “I only want nice people on this movie, Nathan.” And Robin certainly was at the top of that list.

Barry Levinson (Good Morning Vietnam, Man of the Year, Toys director): A bunch of us went on vacation together. Quite a group: Billy Crystal, Steve Martin, and others. Sometimes during dinner he would start something in character. Then Billy Crystal would jump in. You can’t help but be amazed at how creative he is on the spot.

Terry Gilliam (The Fisher King director): There were nights when Robin went to a [comedy club] and put on a show for nothing, just to get that excess energy out of him. Jeff and I went to one—the audience had come to see some unknown comedian. Robin did a 45-minute show that was just breathtaking.

Gus Van Sant (Good Will Hunting director): During our practicing of elaborate camera moves when we weren’t rolling, Robin would do a voice of politician Janet Reno, and then Matt [Damon], just to keep up, would do Bugs Bunny. So an entire scene as Janet Reno or Nixon talking to Bugs Bunny. Film was expensive, and it was so silly that we didn’t roll. It was extremely funny. Matt told me then, “It’s funny to you, but it’s really hard for me. You try to keep up with Robin Williams.”

Matt Damon (Good Will Hunting costar): It’s a technique: Throw the scene away, make it ridiculous—like a palate cleanser. He kept every scene completely fresh.

Hansen: While my wife and I were in New York, we got a phone call from Marsha [Garces Williams, Robin’s second wife]: “We’re coming down your block. Robin’s going to drop in on a club spontaneously and perform.” The clubs said no, so he ended up doing his stand-up routine for a handful of friends in his hotel room. Christopher Reeve was there. I was like, “Why am I here?” Just overwhelmingly generous and inclusive.

Crystal: Our times together with Comic Relief were simply jazz. The speed of his comedy was breathtaking. I felt like a bull rider: Stay on for eight seconds and you win. Our times offstage were so important to us. We could talk about anything with no attempts at humor. Kids, parents, life’s ups and downs. Then we’d have late-night calls where we could go for an hour or two as different characters. [One time] I was watching Ronald Reagan’s funeral and the phone rang.

“Hi, Bill, it’s me, Ron. I just wanted you to know I’m in heaven and all is good.”

“Oh, Mr. President, what’s heaven like?”

“Well, it’s really hot here.”

“Wait, sir, if I may: If it’s really hot, you might not be in heaven. You might be in the ‘other place.’”

“Oh, that explains why I’m in a hot tub and Nixon’s balls are resting on the bridge of my nose.”

He was one of the best comedians on earth. But what made Williams a brilliant actor was how seriously he took his craft.

Goldthwait: The thing that would drive me crazy: People would think Robin would just ad-lib and go crazy. He was brilliant off-the-cuff, but he did work very hard. He saw himself as an actor first. He loved collaborating.

Baranski: He wasn’t like, “I’m going to come in and do my shtick.” He was a generous actor. The Birdcage dance might be one of my favorite scenes that I’ve ever been in on film.

Lane: Armand was a more internal performance for him, which I think really interested him as an actor. He has some beautiful, very quiet moments in the film. It’s the part of him that you knew when you were with him. He could be shy, but people expected his performing side.

Damon: We knew him as the funniest person in the world, and I remember us having that expectation. I’m sure he felt that [pressure] all the time. But I found him much more to be the Juilliard-trained actor: serious, quiet, reflective. We hadn’t even started rehearsals yet, and he recited that long monologue on the park bench, letter-perfect. He came completely prepared, but was also ready to throw it all out and go with a better idea. A really good lesson for me as a young actor about what the great people in this business do. He was working with live ammo. There is a scene where he grabs me by the neck. My neck was bleeding because he was so upset in that moment that his character lost control. He would then see my neck and apologize. I went, “No, no, no, please.”

Robert De Niro (Awakenings costar): When I was a kid, my nose was broken. Robin and I had a scene where we were [physically] struggling and his hand or elbow got loose and hit my nose. I went to see a doctor. What he actually did was break it back to the way it should have been. He realigned it. [Laughs.] But he felt terrible. I said, “No, no, no, you did something amazing.”

Julianne Moore (Nine Months costar): Robin was alive when he was performing. There is a tremendous sense of play to what he did. We could try anything, change anything. He brought a lot of joy with his process. That was something wonderful for me to see as an example early on in my career.

Gellar: Play, he used that word a lot. He would always start with the script. And then we would do the Robin take.

Chris Columbus (Mrs. Doubtfire, Nine Months, Bicentennial Man director): Robin and I made a deal. He said, “We’re going do two or three scripted takes, and then we are going to play.” The scene where he’s getting out of his Mrs. Doubtfire costume when the social worker arrives was brutally improvised. And the final scene in the restaurant. Sally Field, Pierce Brosnan, and the kids had no idea what Robin was going to say next.

Field: It was my task to simply respond to whatever he did, as a real person would. I completely loved that stay-on-your-toes feeling. You couldn’t really see what Mrs. Doubtfire was on the page. It became its own life form primarily because of him.

Hilary Swank (Insomnia costar): He had something vibrant bubbling underneath, like he was part of an inside joke. He would riff until Christopher Nolan would say, “Action!” Freeing himself in order to play, then snapping into his role. I was still so young and impressionable. I was soaking it up like a sponge. He always had that little twinkle in his eye that Dead Poets Society captured. Remember how he would come into those scenes and the boys would be like, “Wait, what?”? It was him in a nutshell.

Weir: What had stayed with me was his unpredictability and a certain twinkle in the eye, something mischievous, a touch of the leprechaun. If I’d been a student when a teacher combining those qualities took over the class, I’d be intrigued. He loved the fact that I’d hidden a half-day in the shoot where he could take the class—an improv, but in character. I suggested Charles Dickens’s The Pickwick Papers, which I’d loved at school. The cameras were poked through windows, lights discreetly placed, the crew out of sight. It was a fun afternoon. Some scenes made it into the film.

Josh Charles (Dead Poets Society costar): He took the work seriously. Of course, he could improv all over the place and have everyone in the palm of his hands on set. But I remember he seemed clearly intent on not doing too much of that. He took great care in being a part of the ensemble, even if that ensemble was mostly inexperienced 17-year-olds. I appreciated him taking that approach.

Bridges: I had this long monologue while his character was in a coma. I knew him as this comedian and thought he would be trying to make me laugh. But it was the exact opposite. I felt his support and camaraderie during that scene so brilliantly.

Gilliam: The Fisher King gave him a chance to reveal the breadth of his emotions and abilities—it’s the real Robin Williams on film. There’s a scene where he’s being chased by the knight. He gets stabbed by these punk kids. We did take after take, he wouldn’t stop. He kept saying, “There’s more, Terry.” After we finished the film, he called me up:

“How was I in the film? Did I do okay?”

“Robin, you were fucking brilliant, man.”

“No, no, no, Terry, tell me the truth.”

“Robin, it was magnificent. It was everything.”

Levinson: The scene in Good Morning Vietnam where he’s teaching this class, I didn’t think it was working. I called a break, trying to figure out how I was going to get something that felt credible. [Then I saw] Robin on the far side of the building with the class—he was talking and they were very engaged, laughing. I said, “Why don’t we do this: They won’t know when we’re filming; we’ll do hand signals to the crew. And then you just start talking to them using what’s in the script, so we get the essence of the scene.” It all became alive. He was connecting to them on a personal level. That’s because of his interest in people in general.

Robin Williams had a knack for making his cast and crewmates feel valued. On a Robin Williams set, you could also generally count on seeing some off-the-cuff stand-up.

Lane: Our DP, Emmanuel Lubezki, would take some time to light scenes, and Robin’s performing side would come out during those hours. He would keep the energy of the scene alive. I could see how much Gene Hackman enjoyed Robin keeping everyone entertained and being brilliant. He made the crew feel like they were a part of it, and he knew them personally.

De Niro: No matter how serious the scene we were about to do was, his humor was always there. And it wasn’t a distraction at all. If anything, it made it even easier for me to get back into the scene. A blessing.

Pacino: It feels good, it’s safe and friendly. And in its own way, it frees you up and makes you feel like you can do anything.

Swank: He would walk up behind a person he didn’t know and start doing funny things. They would turn around, realize it was Robin Williams and be so beside themselves. He just made time for people.

Moore: He came toward you with a tremendous amount of vulnerability—he was interested in connecting with people. He needed to make you laugh. And he had that same energy in the makeup chair, six or seven in the morning, cracking jokes. And you were like, “How is this possible?”

Bridges: One day, it was about four o’clock in the morning. It was the Chinese restaurant scene [in The Fisher King] and we were all wiped out working nights. Robin stood up and jammed, busting everyone’s chops on the set. It energized the whole troops. That vibe that he created was a touchstone for all of us working with him.

Gilliam: He had a joke about every member of the crew. He knew their names, what was particular about them.

Columbus: San Francisco was his hometown, so he knew a lot of the crew members [on Mrs. Doubtfire]. By the end of the first week, he had learned everybody’s name, from the caterers to the production assistants. And if anyone had a quirk, he would remember and make a joke. It made everyone feel like he was their friend and put everyone in a fantastic mood.

Wilson: When we were filming the petting zoo scene [in Mrs. Doubtfire], he took off his hat, put some oats in it, and fed the pony I was riding. Then he turned to me with the slobber-covered hat: “Wanna wear it?” I must have made a disgusted face, because Chris called “Cut!” and everyone burst out laughing.

Van Sant: If he heard anyone laughing, he would respond with more humor, until finally the whole crew was watching him do stand-up.

Damon: He had a really good sense of when the crew was starting to get tired. Then he would just burst into impressions and we’d go back in with this new energy. It was such a privilege to be in that room—you knew you were seeing something that nobody else in the world was ever going to see.

Pacino: I never saw people in my entire life get so excited seeing someone in public as they did when they saw Robin. You could tell how his talent served their lives. It was deeply personal for them and him. Robin allowed that connection to take place. I loved him for it.

Crystal: He’d listen to anyone who approached him. And if someone laughed, that was throwing chum in the water. One time Garry Shandling, Robin, and I were having dinner in Hawaii. The service was slow, so I said, “Let’s go in the kitchen and see what’s happening.” We had a fun time with the crew and brought our food out, but Robin was nowhere to be found. I had to go back into the kitchen ’cause he was doing bits with the crew. We’d go out together for a walk in New York and he’d have a roll of $20 bills ready to give to any unfortunate souls we would come across.

Weir: [Early in the Dead Poets Society shoot], there was a mayoral function at a restaurant in Delaware. I was at a table with the boys when Robin appeared as our waiter, napkin draped over his arm as he announced the specials. “Can I recommend the hummingbird lips as a starter?”

Stiller: When he was around his fans, he would give them his full attention. Skyler Gisondo, playing my son in the third [Night at the Museum] movie, got me and Robin to help him ask his date to prom. Robin would go above and beyond to make people happy. He called everybody Boss. “Yes, Boss. You want me here, Boss?”

Columbus: He always called me Boss, which made me feel good because I was younger than him.

Gellar: That was his way of being respectful. He was so generous. We used to joke that his assistant would never give him cash because he just gave it away. So you’d be filming, he’d see a hot dog vendor and go, “Hey, Sarah, can you get me a hot dog?”

Baranski: He got me a book by Katharine Cornell, because she was born in Buffalo, as I was. Such a thoughtful gesture.

Goldthwait: Looking around this room, there’s so much crap that Robin bought for me. The weird clown over there, the scary baby behind me. If we were in a store, I just learned not to pick things up because it would already be at the counter. At the end of Sleeping Dogs Lie, he gets a special thanks because he had given me this really nice vintage Stratocaster, a collector’s item. I was like, “I sold it to pay for the post. You kind of financed the movie.”

Robin Williams intuitively knew how to connect with kids too.

Wilson: He used to make his hands talk and argue with each other: “I don’t like you! You smell like poop!” “Hey, there’s no toilet paper at my house!” Which is the funniest thing ever to a five-year-old. There’s actually a bit in “Friend Like Me” [from Aladdin] where The Genie’s hands do a little backup singing and scatting behind him. The animators must have gotten that idea from him—they looked and sounded exactly like the talking hands he’d use to make me laugh. I think he just got kids.

Gellar: He told my daughter to call him Uncle Robin. I’m sure he got asked every day to be The Genie. But he was happy to be The Genie for her, and that it made her smile.

Stiller: In the third [Night at the Museum], there’s a scene [in London] where the characters escape from the museum. [Director] Shawn [Levy] made my two kids be the ones who noticed the statues on the bus. Robin was doing everything possible off-camera, trying to crack them up in their first on-camera thing ever. We always talk about it—they had a private performance by Robin Williams.

Columbus: During Halloween, his house was the most visited house in San Francisco. He would wear some outrageous costume, stand outside, and hand out toothbrushes.

Though Williams died 10 years ago, to his friends and collaborators, he’s very much still alive.

Field: I keep thinking of him as “is.” He can’t have left; he can’t. He’s still here. I feel him.

Goldthwait: He’s the first person I would call when something good or bad happened. He never made me feel like my work or life was less important. I have a nice feeling about him lately—it’s not as sad. I don’t know what shifted. I see his smile, I see his laugh. I just got married, and my daughter showed up wearing one of his suits. It was so sweet because I had been Robin’s best man. And my wife, Pollyanna, was wearing this derby hat that Robin had given me. I just found a photo of him where he is listening to my friend Tom Kenny and laughing so hard. That’s a nice way to remember him.

Lane: I was doing a thing for the New Yorker Festival and they showed the scene at the bus stop, my favorite scene in the film. I totally broke down. I miss being with him, having dinner, and laughing. He knew a lot about many different things. If they could have studied the way his brain worked…

Damon: He wrote the last line in the movie. He did the first three or four takes the way it was scripted, and then he came out and read the letter: “Son of a bitch, he stole my line.” Gus was next to me. We clutched each other. Holy shit! That was one of the beautiful gifts of that beautiful brain.

Levinson: He had a brain that was alive and perceptive. What I miss the most is hanging around and talking about something he heard or read. His curiosity propelled him.

Gilliam: He was like an antenna, absorbing every noise in the universe. He was making beautiful quilts out of the most outrageous ideas. The world feels terribly lonely without Robin.

Weir: I miss those moments when he was suddenly seized with inspiration. His lava stream of words seemed of two types: satirical, often political; and the rarer type, purely imaginative. No message, just free-form. Those I treasured.

Crystal: I miss being able to talk with him, laugh with him, grow older with him.

Bridges: He had access to the humor of the cosmos and let it rip through him. And his compassion, the charitable events he did with Whoopi Goldberg and Billy Crystal… It’s like, we’re not gonna be here that long, so give us what you got, kid. He certainly did.