Behind the laughter and the lovable on-screen persona, John Candy harbored deep, unseen struggles that haunted him until his untimely death. It’s a story that’s both heartbreaking and profoundly human—one that Colin Hanks felt compelled to tell in his documentary, John Candy: I Like Me (streaming now on Amazon Prime Video [https://amzn.to/46MVJsA]). But here’s where it gets controversial: while Candy was universally adored, his inner battles were far more complex than anyone realized. And this is the part most people miss: his demons weren’t the typical Hollywood vices of drugs or alcohol but something far more relatable—a crippling fear of mortality and anxiety that he hid behind his affable smile.
In a revealing episode of The Last Laugh podcast (https://pod.link/1456474041), Hanks dives into why he felt Candy’s story needed to be told. His personal connection to the comedy legend runs deep—not just through his father, Tom Hanks, but also through shared experiences of loss and anxiety. Hanks opens up about his emotional interview with Macaulay Culkin, who worked with Candy as a child, and shares the archival footage that left him stunned. But what’s truly striking is how Hanks, now a filmmaker, reflects on his own journey, including his first public response to the ‘nepo baby’ label that has dogged him.
‘I knew this documentary couldn’t just be a highlight reel of his movies,’ Hanks explains. ‘It had to uncover the man behind the laughter.’ And that’s exactly what he did, starting with a warning from Candy’s close friend Bill Murray: ‘I wish I had some more bad things to say about him.’ But the real story wasn’t about scandal—it was about vulnerability. Candy’s struggles with weight, for instance, were less about his own discomfort and more about the cruel, often offensive questions interviewers hurled at him. ‘It was heartbreaking,’ Hanks recalls. ‘The way he was treated in those early interviews was crushing.’
Here’s the bold truth: Candy’s on-screen charisma masked a man grappling with fears that many of us face but few discuss openly. His weight, once a topic of public ridicule, becomes a lens through which we see his resilience. But it’s his unseen battles—his anxiety and fear of death—that make his story so poignant. Hanks, who lost his mother at a young age, connects deeply with Candy’s own loss of his father at just five years old. ‘It’s something that doesn’t compute,’ Hanks admits, reflecting on the shared weight of outliving a parent.
And then there’s the ‘nepo baby’ debate. Hanks doesn’t shy away from it, but he challenges the tone of the conversation. ‘I’m 47 years old,’ he says with a hint of defiance. ‘Call me a baby to my face.’ It’s a moment that sparks debate: Does nepotism overshadow talent? Or is it a lazy critique of someone’s hard work? Hanks’ journey, from turning down roles like The Devil Wears Prada to his devastation over missing Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, shows that his path hasn’t been without its own struggles.
Candy’s legacy, meanwhile, raises another question: Why does comedy often get overlooked by institutions like the Academy? Hanks argues passionately that Candy’s performances were more than just funny—they were deeply human. ‘People don’t just remember him as a comedian,’ Hanks notes. ‘They say, ‘I love John Candy.’ That’s because he was a true actor.’
Here’s the thought-provoking question for you: Is comedy undervalued in the world of film? And if so, why? Candy’s story forces us to reconsider what makes a performance ‘important.’ As Hanks puts it, ‘Dying is easy, comedy is hard.’ But maybe, just maybe, it’s the hardest—and most impactful—art of all.
Listen to the full episode of The Last Laugh (https://pod.link/1456474041) on Apple Podcasts (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-last-laugh/id1456474041), Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/show/0LpQqaacXVa9ncyyBt3V3B), or your favorite podcast platform. New episodes drop every Wednesday—don’t miss out on this eye-opening conversation.
