Crafting a documentary about a universally adored public figure is no simple feat. As Bill Murray wryly notes in the opening of “John Candy: I Like Me,” “I wish I had some more bad things to say about him.” He humorously adds, “I hope what you’re producing here turns up some people who have some dirt on him.”
Yet, the film delivers no such revelations. The harshest critiques leveled against Candy, who passed away in 1994, revolve around occasional testiness during anxiety attacks and perhaps a delay in heeding medical advice. “John Candy: I Like Me” (directed by Colin Hanks), a biographical tribute to the Canadian actor and comedian, explores his ascent to fame through “SCTV” and beloved films such as “Home Alone,” “Spaceballs,” and “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”—the very movie that inspired the documentary’s title.
The documentary meticulously chronicles every significant period of his life, drawing on extensive archival footage and heartfelt interviews. It features insights from his devoted family, including his widow and children, alongside childhood friends and a vast network of collaborators. Esteemed colleagues like Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Tom Hanks (the director’s father), Steve Martin, Catherine O’Hara, Conan O’Brien, Andrea Martin, Eugene Levy, Martin Short, and Macaulay Culkin, among many others, share their memories.
Structurally, the film largely adheres to the typical celebrity documentary format. Spanning nearly two hours, it occasionally loses pace, relying primarily on a chronological overview of Candy’s projects, offering little in terms of dramatic narrative progression beyond a simple “what happened next.” The film does touch upon how early childhood trauma—specifically, the death of his father at age five, a topic his family reportedly avoided—likely influenced his character and profound anxiety. Repeatedly, the documentary highlights Candy’s noticeable discomfort regarding his physical appearance and the uncomfortable questions posed by interviewers, subtly hinting at the deeper complexities beneath his famously cheerful demeanor.
Nonetheless, the core of this film is a portrait of a man who was not only talented, funny, and famous but also incredibly generous, deeply beloved, and genuinely loving. He embodied a rare quality, particularly in the comedic world: the belief that one could possess all these attributes without internal strife. This in itself makes the documentary a compelling watch, especially for his admirers.
Beyond the personal narrative, there’s another valuable aspect to such films. The documentary landscape has recently been saturated with similar celebrity profiles, often adhering to a predictable formula. While those about living stars can feel like extended promotional materials, and those about deceased figures tend toward gentle hagiography, “John Candy: I Like Me” serves as a powerful reminder of one crucial purpose for these productions: they offer a legitimate reason to unearth and meticulously assemble priceless archival footage into a coherent story. Much of this material would likely remain unseen by the public, or at least not consolidated in one accessible place. This act of preservation, for fans, the curious, and future generations, is a truly commendable endeavor.