Who Is Martin Mull? premieres October 7 on Netflix.
By Elazar Abrahams
This October, Netflix is releasing four comedy documentaries about singular performers and institutions that helped shape the way we laugh. They are not formally connected, but together they make for a surprisingly cohesive month of comedy history. The first, Who Is Martin Mull?, is also the best of the bunch.
Martin Mull was one of those actors I had seen everywhere without really knowing anything about him. My personal favorite role is still Gene Parmesan on Arrested Development, but I had no idea how storied his career was before he became a signature that guy in movies and television. At the height of his fame, Mull was not just popping up in other people’s projects. He was a major comedy star, performing for packed audiences and operating in the same strange, musical, alternative-comedy world as Steve Martin.
The old clips are the real joy here. They are hilarious, and the documentary gives them enough room to breathe. Mull comes across as someone who genuinely wanted to make people laugh, but the bigger surprise is that comedy and acting were never quite his deepest ambition. His great love was painting, and he used entertainment as a way to support himself as an artist. That would already be an unusual story if he were merely a painter on the side. But Mull’s paintings are legitimately gorgeous. He was a serious, gifted painter who happened to also be excellent at music, comedy, and acting.
That restless creativity is what makes the film more than a career retrospective. Mull was a small-town kid who kept trying on new identities, not because he lacked a sense of self, but because he was talented enough to keep following his curiosity. His work with Fred Willard on Fernwood 2 Night, a wonderfully strange parody talk show, feels especially important in retrospect. It was a precursor to the kind of comedy talk-show satire that later became much more common, and Mull’s deadpan confidence is incredible to watch.
There is also a sad tinge running through the documentary. Mull died after his interviews were filmed, and director Bob Saget (a comedy legend in his own right), who began the project, also died before it was completed by co-director Neil Berkeley. Fred Willard, another major presence in the story, is gone too. Seeing all of them at work is a gift, but it also gives the film an unexpected feeling of absence. This is a portrait of a comedy world that has already disappeared.
Most importantly, Who Is Martin Mull? is actually funny. It taught me a lot about someone I thought I already knew, while giving me a pile of old comedy clips I was happy to watch all night. The film makes a persuasive case that Mull was not simply a beloved character actor. He was a genuine original, and a much bigger deal than many of us younger viewers understood.
I give Who Is Martin Mull? an A.
