In a season that’s typically dominated by screams, Netflix really wants you to laugh. The streamer has programmed several original documentaries in October 2026 about hysterical and yet arguably underrated comedians, including films about Norm Macdonald and SCTV, which we’ll review later this month. The first to drop is about famous Chicagoan Martin Mull, a unique presence on the scene in the ‘70s and ‘80s, and a funny man who always insisted that he was actually a painter first and a comedian second.
“Who is Martin Mull?” is a tender, personal examination of a career shot through with poignancy because so many people involved in this production are no longer with us. Mull had an unusual comedy rhythm that often typecast him as snobby assholes, but one could always sense the Chicago everyman under the surface. This film brings it into the light.
“I’ve been very lucky in that almost everything I’ve done has been fun,” Mull says late in the film, capturing the tone of a career that seemed almost improvisational. He wanted to be a painter or a singer/songwriter, but he almost fell into comedy, reportedly riffing one night during a music show when the power went out and realizing he was pretty good at it. Mull doesn’t say much about his childhood, but the manner in which he avoids any discussion at all of his father, along with later accusations of abuse by other family members, makes it clear that it was rough. Mull’s mother was eternally supportive, even amassing a scrapbook of stories about him, but his dad sounds pretty worthless.
Much of this insight comes directly from Mull to the film’s original director, Bob Saget. As most people know, Saget died tragically in 2022, but he actually started working on this project back in 2018. Just seeing him and Mull speak warmly about each other has an emotional prickliness, given that this film’s subject also passed two years ago. And then Norman Lear and Fred Willard show up. It’s like looking at ghosts. “Who is Martin Mull?” reminds you how much comedy brilliance we’ve lost in just the last few years. Someone should protect Steve Martin.
Of course, Martin is a major part of “Who is Martin Mull?” Not only were they comedy contemporaries who toured together (including at least once on a bill that said “Steve Martin Mull”), they had similar deadpan styles, ones that weren’t afraid to avoid the typical punchline set-up for something that felt daring and unpredictable. Some of the footage here reveals Mull to be even more risk-taking with his sense of humor, knowing that he could hold a live audience in his spell enough to do something like “I want to get serious for a minute” … and then just sit and make serious faces for 60 seconds.
Directors Saget and Neil Berkeley, who took over after Saget died, even as it feels like much of the interview footage was completed before, wisely focus on these open conversations between old friends, often just rolling camera as Mull reminisces with collaborators like Martin, Willard, and Lear, who produced his breakout hit “Fernwood 2 Night.”
“Who is Martin Mull?” can feel a bit slight in the drama department—there weren’t many speed bumps other than Mull’s admitted battles with alcoholism and sense that he wanted to be taken more seriously as a painter—but the film makes up for a lack of tabloid material or deep insight about the form of comedy by just being so remarkably likable.
It also becomes unexpectedly moving, and not just because of the people in it who are gone. The final scenes of “Who is Martin Mull?” emphasize the love story that saved Mull’s life: His marriage to Wendy Haas from 1982 to his passing. Mull is emotional as he speaks (and even sings) about his love for her, and it’s tinged with the melancholy that comes from knowing you’re reaching your final act. He speaks about the show being over and the sets being put away as he sits alone on the stage, worried that he won’t have enough friends left to be pallbearers. But he’s almost happily inspired by what he’s accomplished and the life he’s led. It’s the way we all hope we feel at 80: sad to see the show end, but happy about what we did in our time on stage.
If Saget and Berkeley don’t answer the question in their title beyond “a devilishly funny and remarkably decent man,” the best thing about their film is how much it values the latter as much as the former.
