Norm: The Tale of Norm Macdonald premieres October 16 on Netflix.
By Elazar Abrahams
Netflix’s October comedy documentary lineup continues with four films about performers and institutions that changed the language of comedy. The second entry, Norm: The Tale of Norm Macdonald, is an affectionate portrait of one of the funniest people who ever sat behind a desk on late-night television.
Directed by Judd Apatow, the documentary tells Norm Macdonald’s story largely through Norm’s own voice. It is built from interviews, archival footage, personal photos, rare home videos, and the talk-show appearances that introduced so many younger viewers to him in the first place. That structure feels exactly right. Norm was always performing a version of himself, and the film lets him narrate his life in the same slippery, hilarious way he approached almost everything else.
There is not necessarily a huge amount of new information here, which is the main reason I am giving this an A- instead of an A. But it barely matters. Norm Macdonald was so funny that you could watch hours of clips you have already seen and still be happy to have an excuse to watch them again. His delivery remains completely singular. Even when the documentary is simply replaying a familiar appearance, the timing, the pauses, and the commitment to a stupid idea still land.
The film does become more emotional as it moves toward the end of Norm’s life. He died of cancer during the COVID era, and the documentary treats his final years with real tenderness. Footage from his funeral is especially touching, as friends and fellow comedians line up to explain why he mattered so much to them. The admiration is nearly universal, but it never feels empty. These people are not just praising a legend. They are trying to explain what it felt like to be around someone whose mind worked in a completely different direction from everyone else’s.
The most interesting material involves the gap between Norm’s jokes and the man underneath them. So much of his personal mythology is deliberately unreliable. He told different versions of his childhood, his education, and his family relationships, and the documentary never pretends it can sort every story into fact and fiction. It also hints at questions about his sexuality and whether some of his jokes were connected to something more personal. Where does the bit stop and the real man begin? The film is smart enough to leave that question unresolved.
There is also an interesting section about the way Norm navigated the changing comedy culture around him, including the possibility of being swallowed up by cancel culture and somehow avoiding it. But the central pleasure remains simple: this is another chance to spend time with Norm Macdonald. The documentary may not completely reinvent our understanding of him, but it reminds us why there is still nobody quite like him.
I give Norm: The Tale of Norm Macdonald an A-.
