Directed by Lawrence Kasdan

The new Netflix documentary about Martin Short doesn’t really reveal some shocking hidden side of him. There aren’t many earth-shattering revelations here.

Instead, the documentary mostly reinforces something a lot of people already suspected:

Martin Short might genuinely be one of the warmest and most beloved entertainers of the last fifty years.

And after watching it, it’s pretty easy to understand why.

Short is kind of an odd duck as a performer. His comedy is big, theatrical, absurd, deeply committed, and often completely unconcerned with whether he looks ridiculous. In fact, making himself look ridiculous often seems to be the entire point.

And somehow, that total lack of vanity is what makes him so compelling.

There are performers where you either instantly connect with their energy or never really do. Martin Short feels different. Even if he doesn’t immediately click for you, eventually the sheer level of commitment wins you over.

And nobody commits to a bit quite like Martin Short.

The documentary does a nice job tracing that evolution through places like Second City, SCTV, and Saturday Night Live. Even if you already know most of the stories, there’s still something enjoyable about seeing the old footage and hearing people reflect on that era of comedy.

It almost accidentally becomes a history of modern sketch comedy through Martin Short’s perspective.

One thing the documentary captures particularly well is how much people seem to genuinely love being around him.

There are endless stories about celebrities drifting through his home, relaxing around him, telling stories, laughing, and just existing comfortably in his orbit. The atmosphere sounds less like traditional celebrity culture and more like some strange combination of summer camp and private island retreat.

People don’t just seem entertained by Martin Short.

They seem safe around him.

And I think that’s part of what ultimately gives the documentary its emotional weight.

Because underneath all the absurdity and theatricality is someone who has experienced enormous loss and tragedy throughout his life. The documentary doesn’t exploit those moments, but it also doesn’t avoid them either.

What’s remarkable is that none of those experiences seem to have hardened him.

If anything, Martin Short somehow comes across even warmer, more affectionate, and more open because of them. There’s a grace to the way he talks about grief and friendship that feels very genuine.

A lesser documentary probably would have tried to turn all of that into some grand explanation for his comedy.

This one mostly just lets it exist alongside the humor.

And that feels right.

Not every documentary needs to completely redefine how you see its subject. Sometimes it’s enough to spend an hour or so understanding why someone has remained beloved for so long.

This documentary does that really well.

By the end, I didn’t necessarily feel like I had discovered some hidden side of Martin Short.

I just liked him even more than I already did.

Verdict: Really Into This