For all intents and purposes, Marc Maron this is a prickly damn guy. Having made a name for herself with her caustic, heart-wrenching speeches and long-running podcasts, WTF with Marc Maron. The multi-hyphenate Maron has long been a beacon of authenticity and accountability in a comedy world filled with jerks, self-righteous opportunists and fake anti-woke “defenders” of the craft.
Maron has published revealing books, appeared in films and television shows, and interviewed hundreds of guests on his podcast, which he has produced since 2009. Many interviews take place in his garage, called the Cat Ranch.
Director Stephen Feinartz and written by Julie Seabaugh, Are we good? follows Maron through his public period of grief and mourning after the loss of his partner, director Lynn Shelton, who died from a previously undiagnosed blood disorder. An artist in her own right, Shelton directed episodes SHINE and sitcom Maroonas well as one of Maron's comedy specials, while Maron starred in a number of films written and directed by Shelton. The film explores her impact on Maron and his years-long grieving process.
Are we good? begins with a funny montage of Maron and others talking about his moody and difficult attitude towards himself, and then suddenly takes us back to 2020, when Shelton passed away. It's a heartbreaking segment as we hear Maron's voice crack and cry as he talks about Shelton on the podcast before we suddenly cut to “ONE YEAR LATER” where Maron is on his hands and knees behind a theater before one of his shows, trying to fix a flat tire while cursing. The juxtapositions are intense and human, funny and real, and that's the norm throughout the film.
Feinartz tells two parallel stories. The first details Maron and Shelton's relationship, starting with their very first meeting in What the hell? (where they bonded over being “late bloomers”) and ultimately their life together, until her demise during pandemic lockdowns. Maron uses comedy to confront and cope with his grief, and his healing takes up much of the film's running time. Another story traces the trajectory of Maron's life and career: early attempts at comedy and fame, an addiction to drugs and alcohol that led to numerous relapses, his return to the stage, failed marriages and his eventual meeting with Shelton.
Unsurprisingly, the film is peppered with shots of Maron performing, reading hastily scribbled notes, and fighting on stage in front of an audience that laughs and listens with rapt, almost uncomfortable attention. He puts down critics with genuine rage, but then calls himself an asshole, fully aware of what he needs to project and defend. He berates himself for wanting to help people, but at the same time he just wants to laugh. In club basements and backstage before concerts, his anxiety is on full display; at one point he wonders why he's even doing this to himself.
Marc Maron's strength is that he is made of contradictions, a trait that is constantly emphasized in Are we good? The film shows Maron at his most vulnerable and prickly, and it's an explosive and interesting combination. At the very beginning, before he goes on stage, he looks at Feinartz behind the camera and says: “You will destroy me with this stupid film that I allow you to make, which I resist because you annoy me.”
However, there is no real tension or hostility here. Remember, Maron is a comedian, and he strikes me as a man who would not agree to be filmed in this way unless he expected some kind of intrusion, some kind of irritation. That's the kind of guy he is: he accepts the cameras, the audience, and Feinarz, even if he sometimes acts like he's not.
Throughout the film, Maron proves to be surprisingly open and non-antagonistic. There's no fighting energy between Maron and Feinarz, and the few times they seem to fight for the sake of compromise, it's never blatant or exaggerated for the sake of drama. At one point, Maron and Feinartz discuss the film, and Maron becomes disgusted at the thought of parts of his life being animated, which Feinartz apparently suggested.
This moment comes after Maron's animated breakup with Sam Kinison, a directorial choice that is not only unnecessary and corny, but heartless. It's getting too Hollywood, which is what Maron is not and what this documentary shouldn't be. Perhaps it was meant to be ironic, but that's not the end result. Feinarz doesn't try to be too clever, although in some early cuts the director tries hard to be “cinematic” – but fortunately this quickly dissipates.
Are we good? does not romanticize the loss of a partner. It doesn't turn loss into some kind of transcendental or cathartic experience, and it doesn't pretend to teach any lesson. There's no moral to it – that would be the Hollywood version. Here death is real. Documentaries about very acute grief can be very manipulative and, for the most part, Are we good? manages to avoid such missteps, except for some standout moments, such as Shelton playing ukulele while singing Leonard Cohen's “Hallelujah.” Its placement right after a very emotional Maron describes their life and relationship, and his devastation at seeing their happiness cut short seems particularly calculated. Although this is the only time the film manipulates to this extent, it immediately feels unconscionable.
However, the trust between Maron and Feinarz is undeniable and, in fact, important when making a film like this with a personality like Maron. At one point, when Maron is looking through some of Shelton's old things, he comes across a diary, the contents of which are blurred by Feinartz. Feinartz chooses not to use this subject and moment, which could have been exploited, and it illustrates a powerful sense of protection—from director to subject—at a very vulnerable and unexpected time. This emphasizes to the audience that we are privy to many things, but not this. This is just for Mark. This is true generosity and friendship.
Feinartz also includes footage shot by Maron himself using his most personal videos and Instagram Live posts, giving the film a public intimacy. Since all of this footage has been previously published and is readily available online, those who follow him on social media may find it repetitive; conversely, those who do not actively follow him will be shocked by his frankness and emotions.
The film is also filled with interviews with Maron's collaborators, friends and fellow comics, who talk about Maron and Shelton, their relationship, and her deep influence and influence on his life. Feinarts intersperses various clips from What the hell? interviews, including related chats, in which Maron lays out his philosophies on comedy, life and grief.
With Patton Oswalt, he discusses the loss of a partner and how to grieve as a comedian whose job is to find humor in pain, sadness and death. A powerful conversation with Andrew Garfield, in which the actor asks Maron how he's coping with Shelton's absence and what he does in that absence, leads to Maron breaking down. Because What the hell? has become such a big part of Maron's legacy, his inclusion in the film is vital, and these scenes and moments fit well with the context. When the sum of your failures and failures results in your greatest triumph, it is something to be celebrated. We should all be lucky.
Most importantly, his relationship with the cats—as observers and psychiatrists—gives the film an engaging and fun perspective. Maron treats both felines as friends and enemies, participants who are very interested but completely selfless. They are part of him, part of his personality and very existence. As he tells them off, it's clear that he doesn't care and they don't – perfect cinema. He blames himself and his temperament for their nervousness.
The film moves at a relaxed, almost languid pace that compensates for Maron's more angsty tendencies, even if themes constantly come and go: retirement, drinking and sobriety, alternative comedy, partners, relationships, feuds with other comics and podcasters (including ol' Joe Rogan), caffeine, packing for a tour, stalkers, exercise, success (or lack thereof), aging, his parents, his father's dementia and even Liquid Death are discussed, discontented and tormented. It's a bit tedious, and sometimes the film feels like it's trying to cover too many ground, but it shows the complexity of grief and mourning: it can be all-consuming, but it's not the only thing you have to deal with.
Maron's stand-up routines are usually brutally honest, and it comes across on screen. He constantly thinks about what it would be like to tell jokes in Shelton's absence – jokes about her, about their relationship and her illness, her life and death. Being on stage is hard, lonely and brave, and Maron should be commended for expressing his grief even when it hurts. As comedian Laurie Kilmartin says, we're often overwhelmed by grief, and laughing about it “makes the feeling feel helpful instead of just destructive.”
Towards the end, Maron describes his relationship with Shelton very simply and honestly. He calls himself moody, reluctant and wary and says Shelton will look down on this. He was impressed and in awe of her, and it melted his armor. This is what he remembers most.
Feinarz makes a very simple documentary about a complex topic. It doesn't offer anything groundbreaking in the film's presentation, but it does give fans a lot to think about – the power of Maron's candor and humility. He portrays powerful, universal emotions through a man who spent his career pushing people away while begging to be accepted. In this sense, he is like many of us.
At one point, Maron says that because of the pandemic, “every day is long now.” Sometimes they are the worst, sometimes they are the best. It's up to us to decide which one it will be.
