John Candy: I Like Me

John Candy: I Like Me is a beautiful love letter to the comedian.

This carefully crafted documentary is more focused on telling a particularly curated story about Candy than any incisive or thought-provoking portrayal.

Friends, acquaintances and fans still get choked up when the subject of the late Canadian comic wonder John Candy comes up.

Is this moving-picture love letter overly sentimental, sloppy to a fault, and slightly more affectionate toward its posthumous subject than a basket of puppies high on laughing gas? Yes. Does that mean that, in its own way, it perfectly mirrors Candy’s own tendency to overdo it and still make you like him, really, really like him? Also yes.

John Candy: I Like Me, made with the cooperation of Candy’s children and his wife, feels like a tale told by friends, but friends who are less interested in promoting idolatry than in showing you why they loved the man.

There’s an amazing lineup of collaborators and stars, and it’s good to see Candy’s uniquely likable and buoyant screen personality, but the tone borders on the stultifyingly reverential.

It was made by a devoted fan who is less interested in depicting his subject as a three-dimensional human being than in reinforcing his reputation as a prodigious talent and kindhearted soul, who, in spite of a couple of demons, was still ultimately a great guy.

"John Candy: I Like Me" is a carefully crafted documentary that is a beautiful love letter to beloved comedian and an assessment of Candy’s childhood, life and legacy that provides ample cause for laughter while also provoking plenty of tears. You’re astonished to see how fully actualized and talented Candy was as a performer in his short time, but you’re also left with the heartbreak of all that was left unrealized by his untimely passing. John Candy was a grand man in every sense of the phrase. Larger than life yet profoundly humble, he carried with him a rare blend of humor, heart, and humanity that made audiences feel not just entertained, but embraced. He wasn’t simply a comedian who made people laugh; he was a presence that made them feel seen, understood, and cared for. Colin Hanks’ 2025 documentary, captures this essence with warmth and reverence, reminding us why Candy remains one of the most beloved figures in comedy and film. From his early days on Second City Television to his Hollywood breakout in Splash and later hits like Uncle Buck and Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Candy carved out a unique space in film comedy. He was not the suave leading man or the sardonic outsider. He was the everyman, fallible, kind-hearted, often bumbling, but always deeply human. That ability to be both funny and emotionally accessible made him instantly relatable. The documentary uses rare and never-before-seen footage, including outtakes, private home videos, and candid moments, to illuminate the man behind the roles. These are interwoven with commentary from friends, collaborators, and admirers, creating a mosaic of perspectives that celebrate not only his talent but his humanity. Candy’s life was also marked by private struggles. Losing his father at the age of five left a wound that never fully healed. His fear that he too would die young became a quiet obsession, intensified by the deaths of peers like John Belushi. Interviews and archival material reveal how those insecurities shaped his outlook, driving both his comedy and his anxieties. His battles with weight and health are not sensationalized here but presented as part of the complex man he was: someone beloved for his big heart yet quietly burdened by the pressures of fame and expectation. One of the documentary’s greatest strengths is its chorus of voices. Tom Hanks remembers his generosity on the set of Splash. Dan Aykroyd recounts their instant bond and creative synergy. Steve Martin, Eugene Levy, Martin Short, and Mel Brooks highlight Candy’s improvisational genius and his ability to steal a scene without stealing the spotlight. Conan O’Brien reflects on Candy’s influence on younger comedians, noting how his mix of zaniness and tenderness remains unmatched. Jennifer Candy, his daughter, provides touching personal insight, reminding viewers that while the world saw him as “Johnny Toronto,” she and her brother simply saw Dad. These intimate glimpses humanize the larger-than-life persona and underscore the legacy he left for both family and fans. Hanks approaches his subject with care and respect. The pacing is deliberate, allowing audiences to sit with both the joy of Candy’s performances and the sadness of his absence. He resists the temptation to frame Candy’s story as pure tragedy. Instead, he emphasizes the balance of humor and heart that defined him. In doing so, Hanks captures why Candy’s work endures: because it was never just about the joke, it was about connection. Candy had a special gift that cannot be taught, a mix of goofiness and grace, of absurd humor grounded in vulnerability. He could make you laugh until you cried and then, in the very next moment, make you cry for real. That delicate balance is something few comedians achieve, and to this day, no one has truly duplicated it. "John Candy: I Like Me" is a poignant reminder of that rare magic. Sweet, funny, and heartbreaking, this documentary is more than just a tribute. It is a meditation on love, loss, and legacy, a film that makes us laugh even as it leaves us with a lump in our throats. For those who grew up with Candy, it will feel like visiting an old friend. For those discovering him anew, it will be a revelation. "John Candy: I Like Me" reminds us that Candy’s genius was not only in his ability to entertain but in his ability to affirm the value of kindness and humanity. His laughter was big, his heart even bigger, and his legacy always remains indelible.

Paying tribute to a talented, beloved entertainer is undoubtedly a noble gesture, especially for someone widely regarded as a kind, gentle soul in an industry all too often known for its self-absorbed personalities and who, sadly, passed on while still in the prime of life. Such is the sincere intent behind this third documentary feature from director Colin Hanks, a warm, respectful homage to the late John Candy (1950-1994). The Canadian-born actor-comedian made quite a name for himself in the ʼ70s, ʼ80s and ʼ90s, first as a member of Toronto’s Second City comedy troupe, then as a regular on the edgy sketch comedy TV show SCTV and then as a colorful character actor in more than 30 films. But, as this release shows, Candy was more than just a well-known funnyman. He was also a writer, director, producer and businessman, as well as a devoted husband and father. This reputation made him widely regarded as one of the nicest people in show business, a man with a big heart who made it a practice to take care of others, no matter what their needs might be. These are the qualities that come through loud and clear in the film in the many interviews with those who knew and worked with him, including television colleagues Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Andrea Martin, Dave Thomas, Martin Short and Robin Duke, as well as his comedy and big screen peers Steve Martin, Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Macaulay Culkin, Tom Hanks, Mel Brooks, Don Lake and Chris Columbus, among others. They’re also apparent in the ample archive footage featuring conversations with Candy, backed by insights from his wife Rose, his children Chris and Jennifer, and an array of childhood friends and industry colleagues. And the picture’s numerous clips from his TV and movie work serve as welcome reminders of just how gifted he was as a performer, a thoroughly enjoyable trip down Memory Lane. However, in telling his story, the film has a tendency to become somewhat repetitive, depicting its subject with so much boundless reverence that it almost seems timid in telling a deeper and more complete story. In its defense, “I Like Me” doesn’t portray its protagonist with a whitewashed Pollyanna narrative, as evidenced by references to issues with his weight, ghosts from his past and unexpressed fears of not measuring up no matter how hard he tried, attributes that contributed to turning him into something of a people pleaser who had trouble turning down others while not always taking care of himself. But the overarching kid gloves approach employed here can be likened to the filmmaker walking on eggshells at times. Certain aspects of Candy’s story receive noticeable short shrift, such as his impressive dramatic turn in a cameo appearance in director Oliver Stone’s “JFK” (1991), a role that may well have provided moviegoers with an all-too-brief glimpse of greater acting abilities that never had a chance to further develop (a few clips from this release are included in the documentary but never really discussed). That kind of depth, regrettably, is lacking here and would have made for a better, fuller profile instead of repeatedly being told the same things over and over again. It’s a shame that this gentle giant of a man and gifted entertainer left us as young as he did, and it’s a safe bet that many of us probably would have liked to have known him and his range of capabilities better. However, when it comes to this biography, it often feels like we’re only getting part of the story, leaving us wanting for more that, unfortunately, we’ll never have the chance to savor and enjoy.

Talvez uma figura emblemática no seu país, mas quem se importa? E além de não focar nos feitos, fica um tom eterno de homenagem. Chato ao quadrado.