Honestly, if you grew up in the 1970s, Paul Williams was basically the air you breathed. He was the diminutive guy with the feathered hair and the oversized glasses who seemed to be on every single channel at once. One night he was trade-marking "The Rainbow Connection" with Kermit the Frog, and the next he was trading quips with Johnny Carson or playing a villain in Phantom of the Paradise.
Then, he just... stopped.
By the late '80s, the guy who wrote "We’ve Only Just Begun" had largely vanished from the cultural map. He didn't just fade; he became a ghost of the polyester era. This disappearance was so total that when filmmaker Stephen Kessler went looking for him decades later, he legitimately thought Williams was dead. Most people did. That’s the wild premise behind the 2012 documentary Paul Williams Still Alive, a film that starts as a hunt for a legend and turns into one of the most awkward, funniest, and deeply human portraits of recovery ever put on screen.
The Stalker and the Star
The movie isn't your typical "Behind the Music" special. Stephen Kessler, who directed Vegas Vacation, didn't want to just list facts. He wanted to find his childhood hero. He tracked Williams down to a hotel in Winnipeg, Canada, expecting to find a tragic, broken man living in a trailer.
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He didn't find that.
Instead, he found a sober, working, and remarkably content Paul Williams who was busy doing a fan convention for Phantom of the Paradise. The documentary immediately hits this weird, friction-filled energy. Kessler wants the "rise and fall" narrative. He wants the dirt. He wants the sadness of a forgotten star. But Williams? He wasn't interested in playing the victim for Kessler’s camera.
There are moments in the film where the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Williams is clearly annoyed. He ducks the camera. He tells Kessler to turn the lights off. At one point, they’re in a car, and you can see Williams just vibrating with the urge to tell this guy to get lost. It’s hilarious because it’s so uncomfortable. It feels less like a documentary and more like a "buddy comedy" where the two buddies actually kind of hate each other for the first forty-five minutes.
Poking the Bear: The Fight Over the Past
The core of Paul Williams Still Alive is this tug-of-war over memory. Kessler keeps trying to "poke the bear," asking about the drug-fueled years and the loss of fame. Williams, who had been sober since 1990, spent years working as a certified drug and alcohol counselor. He’d already done the work. He didn't feel the need to perform his trauma for a documentary.
But then, the VHS tapes happened.
Williams gave Kessler a box of old tapes from his private storage, half of them unlabelled. This is where the movie gets real. We see footage of Paul guest-hosting The Merv Griffin Show while absolutely out of his mind on cocaine. Watching the "present-day" Paul watch his younger self is devastating. He doesn't look at it with nostalgia. He looks at it with genuine, visceral disgust. He calls his younger self a "vapid, shallow little asshole."
It’s a rare moment of brutal honesty in a genre that usually loves to glamorize the "rock star lifestyle." Williams makes it clear: that guy wasn't special. He was just high and desperate for attention.
A Career That Redefined Soft Rock
To understand why the documentary matters, you have to remember just how high the peak was. We aren't just talking about a "one-hit wonder." Paul Williams was a songwriting machine.
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- The Carpenters: He gave them "Rainy Days and Mondays" and "We've Only Just Begun."
- Three Dog Night: He wrote "An Old Fashioned Love Song."
- The Muppets: He co-wrote the entire soundtrack for The Muppet Movie.
- Barbra Streisand: He won an Oscar for "Evergreen" from A Star Is Born.
He was the voice of a certain kind of 70s loneliness. His songs were always about the "sweet souls" who didn't quite fit in. Maybe that’s why his eventual comeback—not as a superstar, but as a healthy human being—feels so earned.
Why the Documentary Still Matters Today
Most celebrity docs are polished PR moves. This one is a mess, and that’s why it works. It captures the reality of what happens after the spotlight moves on. Williams eventually takes Kessler to the Philippines, where, oddly enough, he is still "Justin Bieber famous." Seeing him mobbed by fans in Manila while being a "nobody" in a New York deli creates this bizarre contrast.
It forces you to ask: What does it mean to be "alive"?
By the end of the film, the relationship shifts. Kessler stops being a stalker-fan and becomes a friend. Williams stops being a defensive subject and starts being a mentor. The movie ends not with a grand concert at Madison Square Garden, but with Paul Williams living a quiet, meaningful life as the President of ASCAP, protecting the rights of other songwriters.
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He didn’t need the fame back. He just needed to be okay.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans of the Doc
If you've watched the film or are planning to, here is how to dive deeper into the Paul Williams "Renaissance" that the documentary helped kickstart:
- Listen to "Touch" by Daft Punk: During the filming of the documentary, Paul mentioned he was working with the French duo. The result was "Touch" on Random Access Memories. It’s arguably one of the greatest things he’s ever done.
- Watch 'Phantom of the Paradise': If you only know him from the Muppets, this Brian De Palma cult classic will blow your mind. He plays the villainous Swan, and it’s a masterclass in creepy charisma.
- Check out his ASCAP work: Paul has become a massive advocate for music creators' rights in the digital age. His transformation from "70s party guy" to "DC lobbyist for artists" is a fascinating rabbit hole.
- Follow his recovery advocacy: He still speaks at recovery events. His perspective on "medicating anxiety" is often cited by clinicians as one of the most relatable descriptions of addiction.
The "ending" of the movie was "fucked up," according to Paul, because he didn't die or end up in the gutter. He stayed alive and got happy. In a world obsessed with tragic endings, that’s a pretty great way to ruin a movie.
To truly appreciate the arc of his career, start by listening to the 2013 Daft Punk collaboration "Touch"—it serves as the perfect musical bookend to the journey documented in the film.