It's hard to fully grasp the legacy of John Candy without talking about it on a personal level. The Canadian comedy legend passed when I was just 7 years old. I hardly had an understanding of his magnitude at the time. But I did know him, because I knew he made me laugh, and his smiling face in any poster brought with it a sense of comfort. Not matter the film, you could always count on his bits to be funny.

In the years since, Candy's influence has remained a major factor in my life. For the longest time, I couldn't put a finger on why I felt such a kinship to a man 35 years my senior, from another country halfway around the world.

It was watching Planes, Trains, and Automobiles that it hit me. Candy meant so much to me because he was genuine. I believed him in any role he played. When he sat in that husk of a car on a cold night, kicking himself for driving away someone he genuinely liked, I could see myself sitting next to him. The older I get, the more I realize just how much of the things I find funny come from Candy's work.

John Candy: I Like Me is more a of a celebration than it is a documentary, but that doesn't diminish its worth one bit. Instead, its immediacy allows for deeper introspection because it doesn't pretend to be anything that it isn't. It begins with a eulogy for Candy, spoken at his funeral, and the rest of the film continues with that tone. We know he's gone in physical form, but his spirit remains as vibrant as the memories his friends and fans hold in their hearts.

Director Colin Hanks and producer Ryan Reynolds have pooled their considerable resources and contact lists to gather a feast of Candy's friends, colleagues, and family to speak on camera. Each one brings with them stories, anecdotes, and even heartbreaking reminders of what a complex and conflicted man Candy was beyond the confines of his films.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. He was, after all, human like the rest of us. Yet there's something about hearing it direct from his kids, siblings, and wife. It would feel intrusive if the film wasn't so gentle in its approach. Even with a gaudy soundtrack that is painfully overbearing, Hanks keeps the melodrama to a minimum.

For fans, I Like Me is more of a trip down memory lane than a discovery of new, previously unheard of stories. You won't suddenly discover that Candy was a monster or that he owned a private island where he hunted men for sport. In the beginning, Bill Murray jests that it would be a lot easier if there were something bad to say about him. At least that would spice things up.

I'm sure there would be, if we dug really hard and petty enough. But what good would that do? Who would that film help?

Instead, we get something comforting that is as honest and true as it needs to be. In the process, we get a chance to laugh and revisit old favorites.

It's a chance to say: John Candy? I like him too.