That Ryan Reynolds' Tribute to John Candy is Breaking My Heart into Pieces

I know Pat posted this a little while ago. I don’t care. I’m not about to let a moment like this pass without commenting. Because as is the case with all tragic losses, I can’t believe it’s been 25 years since John Candy passed, all too soon.

I’ve said before that the rarest celebrity death is the one that truly saddens me. Not just because the death rate for all humans is still holding steady at 100 percent. But because  the vast majority of the time the celebrity in question is either someone you loved who had a great run (Don Rickles, living to the age of 90), someone you loved but who deserves some responsibility for their own death (Chris Farley) or someone you just never cared about (practically everyone else).

John Candy was that rare exception. Say what you will about his weight problem, but it’s not like he’d spent the last five years of his life doing one long, continuous rail of coke. Nor was he one of those human deployed air bags you see on My 600-lb Life who can’t get out of bed and slowly kill themselves one GrubHub-delivered Pu Pu Platter at a time. He was a big fella. But not big enough to deserve to die at the age of 43.

In fact, if life was fair, he would’ve had the longevity of a sea turtle, just for the sheer pleasure he gave to the world. In a hundred roles. From his work on SCTV, which consisted of the best collection of talent in the history of sketch comedy. And was aired from 12:30-2 am on Friday nights in pre-DVR days so nobody ever saw it. Rick Moranis, Catherine O’Hara, Martin Short, Eugene Levy, Dave Thomas, Joe Flaherty and Andrea Martin. All of whom worked in Candy’s literal and figurative shadow. (See, because he was both talented and a big guy.)

But while no one saw those, everyone has seen his movie roles, which still stand the test of time. With his bit parts in landmark comedies – Oxburger in Stripes, the park security guard in National Lampoon’s Vacation, the cop in The Blue Brothers, Barf in Spaceballs – he managed to steal every one of them. With his starring roles in lesser comedies  such as Uncle Buck, Summer Rental, Who’s Harry Crumb? and Cool Runnings, he took movies that probably would’ve sucked with anyone else in the lead and carried them on his ample back.

And of course he was never better than he was as a co-star in Planes, Trains and Automoblies. That Candy delivers one of the funniest comedy performances in the history of movies is not up for debate. But what really makes it unforgettable is the way he does pathos. I heard not long ago that in real life, John Candy was a sad clown. Which I had never heard before, but it makes sense by the way he’s able to crack your heart into a million pieces at the end of PTA:

And Ryan Reynolds captured his whole range in under two minutes. That montage just of him saying goodbye at the end is video pepper spray to me, even though you’d think a quarter century would be enough time to get over it. Great job by Reynolds. RIP, still, John Candy.