When John Candy collapsed in a hotel room in Durango, Mexico on March 4, 1994, the world lost more than a funny man—it lost someone who made strangers feel like family. Thirty-one years later, Colin Hanks’s documentary John Candy: I Like Me arrives on Prime Video as both a celebration and a quiet lament. It’s packed with laughter, tears, and outtakes from SCTV, Home Alone, and Planes, Trains and Automobiles. But beneath the nostalgia, something’s missing: the real John Candy.
The Legend We Remember
The documentary opens with Bill Murray, Candy’s longtime friend and co-star, saying: "I wish I had some bad things to say about him." That line hangs over the entire film. It’s not just a joke—it’s the central paradox. How do you tell the story of a man so universally loved, so effortlessly kind, that even his closest friends can’t find a flaw? The film leans into this, compiling home videos of Candy playing with his kids, candid shots of him hugging fans, and behind-the-scenes clips from Uncle Buck where he’s clearly improvising lines that make Catherine O’Hara dissolve into giggles.There’s a moment in the film where Candy, during the filming of JFK in 1991, has his script marked up with notes from his dialect coach. He underlines specific words, writes questions in the margins. It’s the same man who played the bumbling Del Griffith in Planes, Trains and Automobiles—but here, he’s studying. Practicing. Trying. That’s the John Candy most reviews overlook.
Behind the Laughter
The film doesn’t shy from his past. Candy was five when his father died. The documentary frames it not as a dramatic device, but as a quiet wound. His mother, a nurse, worked double shifts. He grew up quiet, observant, using humor to connect. It’s no accident that his characters always reached out—whether it was to a stranger on a train or a lonely kid in a suburban house. He knew what it felt like to be unseen.Archive footage from SCTV shows Candy in his early 20s, already a master of physical comedy. But there’s a seriousness in his eyes. He wasn’t just doing bits—he was building roles. The film includes a rare 1983 interview where he says, "I want to do something that lasts longer than a laugh." Most people didn’t hear it. They just saw the belly laugh.
What the Cameras Couldn’t Capture
Critics were divided. The Roger Ebert review called it "a perfectly acceptable bio-documentary," but noted it "rarely goes much deeper than portraying Candy as the actor with the heart of gold." Grant Sharples of Paste Magazine went further, calling it "a hagiography more than anything." And the AV Club described it as "blandly sweet remembrances."That’s because the film never fully answers the question: Who was John Candy when the cameras stopped rolling? Macaulay Culkin, who was just 10 when he starred with Candy in Home Alone, gives one of the most moving interviews. He talks about how Candy would sneak him candy between takes, how he never talked down to him. But then Culkin pauses. "He was always... present," he says. "But I don’t know if he was ever really there."
That’s the haunting truth. Candy guarded himself. He didn’t trust interviews. He avoided therapy. He didn’t write memoirs. Even in his final film, Wagons East, he was working through his own pain—filming in the desert heat, barely eating, pushing himself. He didn’t want to be a burden. So he became the guy everyone wanted to be around.
Why This Matters Now
In 2025, streaming platforms churn out celebrity documentaries like holiday specials. But John Candy: I Like Me feels different. It’s not trying to expose secrets. It’s trying to hold onto a feeling. And maybe that’s enough.For fans who grew up with Candy’s characters, this film is a gift. The outtakes from Home Alone where he accidentally knocks over a Christmas tree? The way he ad-libs "I’m not a morning person" in Planes, Trains and Automobiles? These aren’t just jokes—they’re artifacts of a rare kind of humanity. He made you feel safe.
But for those who want to understand the man behind the grin, the documentary leaves you wanting more. There’s no mention of his struggles with weight, his failed relationships, his quiet anxieties. The film doesn’t dig. It cherishes. And perhaps, in a world that’s quick to tear down icons, that’s its quiet rebellion.
What’s Next for Candy’s Legacy?
There’s talk of a restored, 3-hour cut of Uncle Buck being released next year. Rumors swirl that Candy’s personal journals—kept secret since his death—may be donated to a Canadian film archive. If they surface, they could change everything. For now, we’re left with what we have: laughter, tears, and a man who made us feel like we mattered.Frequently Asked Questions
Why does the documentary avoid deeper personal struggles?
The filmmakers chose to honor Candy’s private nature rather than exploit his pain. Despite access to home videos and interviews, they avoided speculation about his health, relationships, or inner turmoil. This reflects Candy’s own wishes—he rarely spoke publicly about his struggles, and those close to him say he’d have hated a "tell-all" approach. The result is a tribute, not an exposé.
How did John Candy’s early life shape his comedy?
After his father died when he was five, Candy became the family’s emotional anchor. He used humor to deflect attention from his grief and to connect with others. His characters often played the lovable, slightly awkward outsider—someone trying to belong. That wasn’t just acting; it was survival. His SCTV sketches, especially "The Sisters," reveal a deep understanding of loneliness masked by silliness.
What evidence shows John Candy took his acting seriously?
His marked-up script for JFK proves he was preparing for dramatic roles. He worked with a dialect coach, underlined specific lines for emotional emphasis, and reportedly rehearsed his scenes for hours. He turned down several comedy sequels in the early 90s, seeking more challenging parts. His final film, Wagons East, was a Western—far from his usual fare—suggesting he was aiming for artistic growth.
Why is Macaulay Culkin’s interview so powerful?
Culkin, who endured intense public scrutiny as a child star, saw in Candy a rare kind of stability. Candy treated him not as a prop or a paycheck, but as a person. In the documentary, Culkin says Candy was the only adult who never asked him about money or fame. That authenticity resonates now more than ever, especially as audiences reflect on child stars’ mental health and the industry’s exploitation.
Will there be more unreleased John Candy footage?
Yes. A 3-hour "lost" cut of Uncle Buck, featuring over 45 minutes of new material, is scheduled for release in late 2026. Additionally, Candy’s personal film reels—stored in a Toronto vault—may be digitized and made available through the Canadian Film Archive. These include home movies from his childhood, early stage performances, and unedited SCTV rehearsals, offering a rawer look at his evolution as a performer.
Is this documentary worth watching if you’re not a fan?
Absolutely. Even if you’ve never seen Summer Rental, the film’s emotional core—about kindness in a cynical world—is universal. It’s not just about a comedian. It’s about what happens when someone gives so much of themselves to others, they forget to take care of themselves. In 2025, that story feels more urgent than ever.