Sattur John Candy finally gets the movie he deserves.

Navegantes The new documentary I Like Me doesn’t reflect a career so much as it resurrects a soul. Directed by Colin Hanks, it opens like a letter you forgot you wrote to yourself. Each frame comes dusted with warmth, from grainy SCTV clips to home footage that feels like laughter and Canadian winter.

Candy never looked like Hollywood, which made him perfect for it. He came at comedy from the inside out, not to impress but to include.

Watching him again reminds you of a time when humor had weight. When it came from kindness, not cruelty. When it carried the warmth of someone who knew what it meant to be overlooked and decided to pull everyone into the shot.

Hanks builds the story patiently. He stitches together family interviews, late-night appearances, and the kind of on-set scraps that say more than the sound bites.

You see Candy coaching young actors between takes. You see him fidget when praised. You see him look down, laugh, and change the subject. He wasn’t just funny. He was generous.

I Like Me It echoes a line from Planes, Trains and Automobiles, the 1987 gem that gave Candy his most human role. “I like me,” he says, through tears. “My wife likes me.”

In the documentary, the phrase becomes a wish fulfilled. The people around him liked him. Loved him. Still do.

Steve Martin, Catherine O’Hara, Eugene Levy, and Dan Aykroyd all appear, but they don’t steal the focus. They orbit him. They talk about a man who never lost his politeness, even when fame tried to sand it off.

Martin recalls how Candy would apologize for taking too much food at craft services. O’Hara remembers him slipping her his per diem when she was broke. These are the kinds of stories that don’t headline an obituary, but define a person.

Hanks resists the easy route of canonizing Candy. The film doesn’t flinch from his excess, his weight, his exhaustion.

But it refuses to frame them as failure. They become part of the portrait: a body carrying more heart than it could bear. When Candy died in 1994, at just 43, it felt like the air went out of the room. I Like Me fills it again.

Yet for all the brilliance of Hanks’ direction, it’s Candy’s humanity that steals the picture one last time.

He reminds us that kindness plays longer than punchlines, that laughter without venom never ages, that decency can be an art form.

Finally, John Candy gets to take the bow he earned.