Comedy As a Survival Mechanism

Read Time:6 Minute, 47 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
André Is an Idiot
–

Genre: Documentary
Year Released: 2025, 2026
Runtime: 1h 28m
Director(s): Tony Benna
Where to Watch: coming to Chicago Area theaters beginning March 13, 2026

RAVING REVIEW: What does it mean to confront your own mortality when you can’t even come to terms with your day-to-day life? ANDRÉ IS AN IDIOT opens with that question hanging in the air, not as a philosophical exercise, but as a practical problem its subject insists on solving out loud. From the first moments, a scene that you’ll never forget, the film lets you see who André is. The film establishes its core narrative early on. This is a documentary about dying, but it is not interested in reverence, restraint, or distance. Instead, it’s about agency; specifically, what agency looks like when it’s slipping away and the only thing left to control is how you show up.

André Ricciardi is never presented as inspirational or noble in a traditional sense. He’s abrasive, funny, self-aware to the point of self-sabotage, and deeply allergic to sentimentality. The film’s title is not a provocation for the audience; it’s a thesis statement from André himself, a framing device that allows him to talk about regret without ever asking for pity. That framing is crucial because the documentary never pretends this story exists in a vacuum. His diagnosis was likely avoidable (multiple times over), his outcome irreversible, and the film refuses to lessen that contradiction. What it does instead is sit inside it, letting humor and discomfort coexist without smoothing either one out.

Director Tony Benna’s approach is restrained. The film is intimate, but not in the way that feels engineered for an emotional payoff. There’s no sense of a checklist of moments that must be captured to justify the subject’s importance. Instead, the camera stays present long enough for conversations to turn awkward, defensive, or devastating. That patience becomes one of the film’s defining strengths. It trusts that André’s personality, rather than the situation itself, is compelling enough to carry the story.

The balancing act is where ANDRÉ IS AN IDIOT either works for you or doesn’t, and it’s where the film earns most of its goodwill. The humor is often blunt, occasionally crude, and sometimes deliberately off-putting. That isn’t a miscalculation; it’s the point. André uses comedy the way some people use denial, not to avoid the truth, but to confront it without collapsing under the weight. The film understands that this coping mechanism isn’t comforting for everyone. There are moments where his jokes land on the people around him like a house falling from the sky, and the documentary doesn’t edit around that discomfort. Instead, it allows those reactions to exist, acknowledging that humor can be both a shield and a burden.

One of the more effective choices is how the film treats time. Rather than marching toward a single emotional crescendo, it moves in fragments: medical appointments, conversations with loved ones, reflective monologues, and stylized interludes that externalize André’s inner chaos. These shifts never feel like distractions; they feel like different moments attempting to describe the same fear. The stop motion animation interludes and imaginative flourishes could have felt indulgent in another context. Yet, here they function as a visual manifestation of a mind that refuses to sit quietly with its own mortality.

Where the documentary deepens its impact is in how it handles the people around André. His family and friends aren’t reduced to supportive archetypes. They carry their own exhaustion, frustration, and grief, and the film lets those emotions surface without turning them into counterarguments to André’s worldview. There’s a palpable sense that everyone involved is negotiating their own relationship to the inevitable, even when they’re standing in the same room. That shared apprehension gives the film its structure; this isn’t one man’s story so much as a shared experience with uneven power dynamics.

What ultimately distinguishes ANDRÉ IS AN IDIOT is its refusal to turn mortality into a lesson plan. While the film acknowledges the consequences of avoidance and denial, it never collapses into scolding. Instead, it treats regret as something to be examined, not resolved. André isn’t seeking redemption or absolution; he’s seeking recognition on his own terms. The film respects that goal without pretending it’s comfortable or even admirable.

By the time the documentary reaches its final stretch, it becomes clear that this isn’t a story about dying “the right way.” It’s about living honestly when there’s no longer any incentive to perform. The humor doesn’t disappear; it focuses in. The fear doesn’t evaporate; it settles into the background of every interaction. What remains is a portrait of someone refusing to shrink in the face of the inevitable, even when that refusal complicates the lives of everyone around him.

ANDRÉ IS AN IDIOT doesn’t ask you to admire its subject, and it doesn’t ask you to forgive him. It asks you to witness him. In doing so, it becomes less about the specifics of illness and more about the fragile, uncomfortable ways people try to assert meaning when time stops being theoretical. It’s funny, abrasive, uneven, and unexpectedly generous; a film that understands that honesty, when stripped of ceremony, can be the most unsettling thing of all.

I’ll put my cards on the table: I’ve already had two colonoscopies, and I’m not even 50 yet. Were they fun? Absolutely not. Were they the highlight of my year? Let’s not get carried away. But André’s whole argument, delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow, is that mild embarrassment beats the hell out of regret. No one wants to schedule this appointment. Everyone thinks they’ll deal with it later. And then later shows up at a terrible time. If you’re even remotely on the fence, resources like Fight Colorectal Cancer (fightcolorectalcancer.org) do a solid job of explaining when to get screened and why it matters, without scolding or doomsaying. It’s overwhelming until it isn’t, uncomfortable until it’s done, and then it’s just another thing you handled like a champ. André didn’t get that luxury, but he did leave behind a reminder that this is one of the rare medical annoyances that actually lives up to the promise. It can, and does, save lives, sometimes in the least cinematic way possible.

Please visit https://linktr.ee/overlyhonestr for more reviews.

You can follow me on Letterboxd, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube. My social media accounts can also be found on most platforms by searching for 'Overly Honest Reviews'.

I’m always happy to hear from my readers; please don't hesitate to say hello or send me any questions about movies.

[photo courtesy of JOINT VENTURE, A24, SANDBOX FILMS, SAFEHOUSE PICTURES]

DISCLAIMER:
At Overly Honest Movie Reviews, we value honesty and transparency. Occasionally, we receive complimentary items for review, including DVDs, Blu-rays, CDs, Vinyl Records, Books, and more. We assure you that these arrangements do not influence our reviews, as we are committed to providing unbiased and sincere evaluations. We aim to help you make informed entertainment choices regardless of our relationship with distributors or producers.

Amazon Affiliate Links:
Additionally, this site contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, we may receive a commission. This affiliate arrangement does not affect our commitment to honest reviews and helps support our site. We appreciate your trust and support as you navigate these links.