‘John Candy: I Like Me’ review: Colin Hanks doc pays warm tribute to Canadian comedy legend

Dir: Colin Hanks. US. 113mins

John Candy: I Like Me is an appealing, ultimately melancholy tribute to the late Canadian comic. Gathering friends and colleagues to remember Candy, who died in 1994 aged 43, Colin Hanks presents a bittersweet documentary about a funnyman who loved making people happy but couldn’t always do the same for himself. Although a somewhat conventional portrait, the film works best as a lament for a talented actor who struggled to reach his full potential before passing away far too young.

Hanks resists delving too deeply into any of Candy’s possible demons

Candy grew up in and around Toronto, which makes this a fitting opening-night selection for the Toronto Film Festival. Streaming on Prime Video from October 10, I Like Me contains interviews with such comedy luminaries as Tom Hanks, Steve Martin, Bill Murray and Catherine O’Hara, who speak with endless affection about the late star of hits like Splash and Planes, Trains & Automobiles. Ryan Reynolds serves as producer, adding to the documentary’s high-profile cachet, and Candy’s fans will enjoy this sentimental journey through his life and pictures.

Early in I Like Me, Murray jokingly confesses that it’s hard to find anything salacious or negative to say about Candy. The rest of the documentary backs up Murray’s claim, presenting us with a wealth of actors, childhood friends and family members who offer up only glowing comments. After the film opens with Candy’s 1994 death from a heart attack, the assorted talking heads then flesh out his Canadian upbringing and his stints at Second City and the cult sketch series SCTV before he made the jump to Hollywood. Haunted by the death of his father when he was only five, Candy later turned to food, smoking and substances to combat anxiety – although those around him mostly remember his sweet, nurturing demeanour.

Hanks, whose previous documentaries include All Things Must Pass: The Rise And Fall Of Tower Records, has manufactured a sturdy, straightforward package that combines new interviews, archival clips of Candy talking to the press and scenes from his work. With composer Tyler Strickland overly underlining the desired audience responses — sunny music when Candy is a rising star; mawkish melodies when Candy wrestles with poor health — Hanks’ enthusiastic, uncomplicated salute preaches to the converted while providing a brisk overview for those unfamiliar with Candy’s legacy.

Part of memorable films such as Stripe sand Home Alone, Candy was previously associated with the wave of exciting new Canadian comics of the late 1970s who helped define that era’s sketch humour, alongside the slicker, more popular American programme Saturday Night Live. O’Hara is joined by Eugene Levy, Martin Short and others who also sprang up at that time, which allows I Like Me to double as a mini-history of a regional comedic hotbed. Candy’s SCTV segments remain hilarious, more than holding their own with his well-known film scenes.

The documentary’s most poignant section concerns Candy’s lifelong battle with his weight — and the insensitive remarks journalists would make about his large frame. Candy’s pained expression as he tries to put on a happy face is heartbreaking. Candy’s widow Rosemary recalls how he would try to shed pounds, only to be told by Hollywood executives that his brand was to be heavy. Friends mention how Candy would stop seeing doctors who advised him to cut back on his bad habits because he didn’t want to heed their warnings.

Hanks resists delving too deeply into any of Candy’s possible demons. We hear a little about the lack of self-confidence that bedeviled him, even when he was a major star. The documentary links the roots of such issues — as well as his addictions — to the trauma of his dad’s passing, although we hear no nightmarish stories of unruly, drugged-out shenanigans or lecherous behaviour. (Indeed, Hanks’ talking heads sing the praises of Candy and his wife’s contented long-term marriage, a Hollywood rarity.)

I Like Me’s lack of darkness can leave the film’s later stretches feeling repetitive, with one famous person after another extolling Candy’s kindness and brilliance. (Perhaps not surprisingly, Candy’s wife and children are co-executive producers.) But it feels churlish to complain too loudly about the monotony of such fond reminiscences. More than 30 years later, so many of John Candy’s loved ones still have a hard time saying goodbye — and that in itself is a touching tribute.