Ralphie May looks tired. The longtime comedian and “Last Comic Standing” runner-up gained fame by weaponizing his struggle with his size with his matter-of-fact, blue-collar presentation style. He wasn’t known for being someone overtly serious with any of his material. After all, the comedian didn’t make his living grappling with the ups-and-downs of life in such a way that left you crushed. He made you laugh. But May looks positively exhausted through the new documentary “What’s Eating Ralphie May?” with the laughs growing lesser and lesser as reality begins to set in.
In what set out to be a much lighter, inspirational documentation of May’s life on the road as a major comic and ultimately-scrapped weight loss surgery, “What’s Eating Ralphie May?” turns into something much darker, much more sobering and, ultimately, tragic. May died in 2017 of cardiac arrest caused by hypertensive cardiovascular disease, with the documentary following him roughly two years or so before, as Lahna Turner, a fellow comedian and his wife, and those closest to him begin to realize May’s fight with obesity and destructive tendencies with his lifestyle habits could finally be catching up with him for good.
The film starts out in a pretty normal, behind-the-scenes aura. Filmmaker Cat Rhinehart follows May, Turner, their adorable kids, and May’s management team to various booked dates across the country and around their two homes in California and Tennessee. We’ve seen this type of footage before, always underscoring what makes our favorite comics tick.
Rhinehart highlights what made May such a jovial presence in so many lives. He hobnobs with fans before and after shows, signs merchandise and takes any photo asked of him with a friendly smile. Some folks on the famous side of the fence prefer to stay there, but May fashioned himself as a comic of the people. To him, it’s a job, and it was the audience who kept him employed. He was there to make them laugh. But the known struggle most all touring comedians have is spending time away from family. May, rather firmly, says the audience aren’t paying him for the laughs. They’re paying him to not be at home with those he loves. The laughs come for free.
The film’s devastation creeps in like a shadow, as Turner, as devoted a partner as someone could have, grapples with her husband’s dietary and sleeping habits, and the time he’s spending away from her and their children. As the course of the year we spend with May’s family unfolds, we learn he’s not well, and he’s not getting any better.
You have to applaud those involved for being so brazenly honest with the footage, but make no mistake: this is not a comfortable watch. You listen in on arguments, are a part of difficult confrontations, join in on unfortunate discoveries and ache with Turner and those closest to May as his health begins its inevitable decline. The hardest parts to watch might be the time we spend with May himself. He openly rectifies with his life to Rhinehart, and he nary looks happy unless he’s spending time with his family or is up on stage in front of his fans. He’s slowly dying before our eyes, and for 90 minutes, you share his pain with him.
To make matters worse, May files for divorce twice before his death as well, underscoring the toll the situation at hand takes on his and Turner’s marriage. Being in the front seat for the decline just about drains you emotionally, and to say this film is grim would be an understatement.
Few moments are as unsettling as when we see May in an interview with a Las Vegas morning show ahead of a year-long residency at Harrah’s, and he looks gravely ill. It’s followed by a celebratory moment of the comic walking the backstage halls of the Vegas Harrah’s and soaking in the career achievement of staging a residency in such a legendary town for performers. There are moments of beauty like this woven throughout, when life slows down just a bit and we get a glimpse of the world for those involved when it’s not being shattered. We need them to pace us for our inevitable conclusion.
Though ultimately numbing, the film shows fierce bravery in choosing to let this story be told. Turner leaves a pillar of strength, compassion and resolve, and Rhinehart shows an unflinching truthfulness and empathy in her presentation. It’s fitting strong women made this film possible, considering the sporadic moments of misogyny Turner faces in the comedy community and in May’s business dealings all while the film’s events play out.
“What’s Eating Ralphie May?” doesn’t let us look away from the disaster unfolding in front of our eyes, but it’s not without a distinct purpose. Addiction affects so many and comes in so many vessels. May’s demons ultimately got him in the end, but there’s edification in his descent. Sometimes, documentaries help us teach others to not make the same mistakes. This film is an act of love and courage, a scarred vision of self-destruction that never lets you look away. But soaking it all in is necessary. It honors the story shared and tries to give others hope that May’s ending stays contained. [A]
