The TIFF Film Review: “John Candy – I Like Me“
By Ross
Although well known to me, or should I say, more accurately, known to me, John Candy was one of the greatest Canadian comedians who ever crossed the border. Getting his start on the Second City stage and eventually on the small screen, John Candy was one of a kind, beloved by all while remaining true to his roots and upbringing. Candy, as delivered into our laps by documentary director Colin Hanks, transitioned steadfastly and truthfully from an insecure comic that everyone adored to a big-screen movie star comedian, delivering good-natured and hilarious roles in over thirty films, which, as it turns out, matched his personality and his everyman mode.
Knocked out from a blown knee from the world of football in his teenage years, he went on to become one of the most beloved comedic actors in the history of film and television, but I didn’t really know his full story beyond the most basic of facts. Hanks does an impeccable job finding emotional depth in his unpacking as he celebrates Candy’s life and work through brilliantly curated archival materials and heartfelt testimonies from many who had the ultimate privilege to know and work with him. It begins with a dry, but heartfelt tribute to the man’s gentle nature by Bill Murray, who is almost annoyed with himself for not being able to find a bad thing to say about Candy, much like his The Great Outdoors co-star Dan Aykroyd and fellow Torontonian and SCTV teammate Catherine O’Hara.
Each and every person interviewed seems to have the same glowing praise of the man, with tributes and portrayals from the likes of Steve Martin, Tom Hanks, Martin Short, Eugene Levy, and Macaulay Culkin, who still remembers how kind Candy was to him as a child actor during production on Uncle Buck. That is beyond the fact that he was taken away from us all too soon, much like his own father.
John Candy: I Like Me is an undeniable, hypnotic unwrapping that begins and ends with touching eulogies and grainy visuals that hit home. The documentary almost descends into sentimentality, but somehow manages, like the comedian himself, to remain honest and ever-so vulnerable that it wisely avoids that descent. It shifts and catches itself just in time, bypassing maudlin to remain heartbreakingly authentic and true to the man. It’s quite the cleverly constructed joyride, revisiting Candy’s hilarious body of work, while never pretending that it was all smiles, joy, and strong box office. We are allowed to delight in the myriad of characters he created for SCTV, along with peeks inside the way he generously worked with his costars in his big-screen successes like Splash, Spaceballs, Home Alone, and Planes, Trains and Automobiles. And also how he worked himself to the bone trying to be there for everyone and everything that touches his open, caring heart.
It was from that John Hughes film, Planes, Trains and Automobile, that I Like Me found its title, and it couldn’t be more appropriate. Especially after hearing from all those people whose lives were so deeply connected to the comedian: his wife, his kids, his friends, his relatives, and his costars. Hanks’ portrait couldn’t have been more emotionally engaging or interesting, but the true beauty of the piece is way it navigates that complicated tightrope walk, unpacking Candy’s genius as an actor, improviser, creator, businessman, and, above all, a devoted father and partner. And even though the man who is the object of this flood of “good man” memories died three decades ago, this documentary delivers in true Candy fashion a heartfelt tribute worthy of all the parts of this funny and kind Canadian. Turns out, I like him too.
