I was sad for his children. I thought he was a wacky dad and they would be better raised by others, but they loved him and kids should have living, loving parents.
I was sad at the waste of his life. He was talented, but I doubt he had joy or felt fulfilled- just a mansion full of stuff and drugs and the need for children. It seemed like he had become a glutton of childhood, he had to feed on the childness of a child - his own and any other child he met. He had to stuff himself with them, he was so hungry for childhood. I don't know if he was ever really a parent or if he knew how to be a parent or maybe, deep within, if he wanted to be a parent. To be a dad, one must be a man, and he seemed conflicted, wanting to be both adult and child. It seemed like his children were his toys or pets like his chimp.