Kael astutely summed up the essence of what attracted audiences to the Canadian funnyman. In more than forty movies, and four years on the cult comedy series SCTV, John Candy's characters were befuddled, lonely, irritating, charming, lecherous, anarchic, good-natured, bashful, clumsy, boring, washed-up, and dim-witted. But even when they were essentially unlikable, he still managed to make them sympathetic.

In 1972, friend Dan Aykroyd encouraged Candy, a journalism student, to try out for the newly-forming Toronto branch of the famed Chicago-based Second City improv troupe. Candy got the gig, and when the Toronto players transferred their stage revue to the small screen in 1976, he suddenly found himself with a TV series, SCTV.

Candy's characters were many: Johnny LaRue, the chain-smoking prima donna exercise show host; evil genius Dr. Tongue who would threateningly wave non-threatening objects at the camera in a low budget attempt to replicate 3-D horror movies; and, most memorably, Candy and Eugene Levy were The Schmenge Brothers, "world-renowned" Leutonian polka superstars, playing their signature songs, "Cabbage Rolls and Coffee," and a version of Michael Jackson's "Beat It" arranged for clarinet and accordion.

After winning two Emmys for writing in 1982 and 1983, Candy left SCTV, soon landing supporting parts in films like The Blues Brothers, Stripes, and Vacation. But it was in 1984's Splash, playing Tom Hanks' brother, that Candy really made his movie breakthrough. Speaking in vaguely Scandinavian-sounding gobbledegook, which he claimed to have learned from watching porno movies, Candy's Freddie Bauer was a lovable lech, constantly peeking up women's skirts.

Following Splash, he starred in a number of uneven comedies, leading one wag to remark, "John Candy has been in more turkeys than stuffing mix." However, the same critic added, "Yet everyone seems to love him." It was true. Candy mostly garnered "loved him, hated the movie" reviews.

Among his better roles were Wink Wilkinson, a wacky radio show host in the delightful musical comedy The Little Shop of Horrors, and Barf, a "mog" (half-man, half-dog) in Spaceballs, Mel Brooks' goofy Star Wars parody.

Then came John Hughes' Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. As blabbermouth shower ring salesman Del Griffith, Candy partnered with Steve Martin as a mismatched pair of stranded airline passengers struggling to get home for Thanksgiving, Candy's unabashed slob, Griffith, driving Martin's uptight businessman to distraction. Steve Martin adapted his own tremendous physical comedy gifts to appear more subtle alongside his co-star's gauche antics, allowing Candy to give a performance that was by turns pathetic, funny, and heartbreaking. It earned him the best notices of his career.

In 1991, Candy took on a new challenge by accepting a dramatic cameo as a shadowy, sleazy tipster in JFK, Oliver Stone's controversial rumination on the 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy. His well-received performance inspired Candy to think about moving in the direction of drama, but he before he had the opportunity, he was committed to more tepid comedies. One exception was Cool Runnings, the surprise 1993 hit in which he generously took billing below the unknowns playing the Jamaican Olympic bobsled team.

Candy had just made his directing debut on the TV movie Hostage for a Day when a shocking announcement came on March 4, 1994. Filming the comedy Wagons East in Durango, Mexico, the actor, 43, was found dead in his trailer after a massive heart attack.

Tributes that poured in from friends and colleagues painted a picture of a sweet-natured, modest, down-to-earth family man, a loving husband and devoted father. Candy was so popular in Canada that his memorial service was broadcast live on TV from Toronto's St. Basil's Cathedral.

Although it was his size that initially attracted notice, John Candy refused to be typecast as the jolly fat man. He took that stereotypical role, and turned it inside out, adding pathos, poignancy, and grace to his characters. Their vulnerability, sometimes hidden, sometimes painfully obvious, endeared him to moviegoers, thanks to Candy's consummate skills as an actor and comedian. As SCTV associate producer Carol Hemson noted after his death, "If you didn't like John Candy, it was your fault, not his."

-- Jane Garcia