‘SCTV: The Greatest Show You’ve Never Heard Of’ Netflix Review: A Warm, Bittersweet Celebration Of The Canadian Troupe Whose Influence Outlasted Its Audience

Netflix has become something of a home for comedy, both contemporary and classic, providing a space where the genre can be showcased and preserved. I’m not referring to classic movie comedies — perhaps because of rights issues, the platform unfortunately doesn’t have many films from Hollywood’s golden age — but rather to comedy shows, stand-up specials and, lately, a growing number of documentaries exploring the genre. SCTV: The Greatest Show You’ve Never Heard Of is the third consecutive comedy documentary to arrive on the platform, following the ones devoted to Norm Macdonald and Maria Bamford. All three set out to rescue comedians and comedy shows that may not have been particularly popular in their day but left a lasting mark on the genre: cult favorites whose work can still educate and inspire new generations.

Overshadowed by the fame of Saturday Night Live — the sketch comedy show that popularized the format and has been on the air for more than 50 years — SCTV (short for Second City Television) was something like its cooler, less famous cousin, «the one who hangs out on the sidelines watching everything while smoking,» as someone puts it. A Canadian offshoot of Second City, the Chicago-based improvisational theater, it emerged in the mid-’70s from a group of friends who decided to create a television show in Toronto with very little money and plenty of ideas. Over the years, it went through several changes and reinventions, shifting formats, running times and locations, and lasted nearly a decade before NBC finally canceled it in 1984, after two seasons on the network.

Nearly all the comedians who made up the original ensemble went on to become celebrities. Those still around reunite here to share their stories and anecdotes. Filmed in 2025, the gathering includes the great Catherine O’Hara — who would pass away in early 2026 — along with Eugene Levy, Joe Flaherty, Andrea Martin, Martin Short, Dave Thomas, Rick Moranis and others who took part in the various incarnations of this disruptive, original and inventive show. It was admired by many, but somehow always remained in the shadow of SNL. The initial differences between the two were considerable: one occupied NBC’s prime-time schedule, while the other aired on regional television in Ontario before eventually moving its production to Edmonton. Yet despite those disparities, SCTV‘s sketches and performers managed to reach far beyond their original audience and stand the test of time.

That legacy becomes especially clear when you hear other comedians and performers talk about their love for the show. Among its fans are Conan O’Brien, Tom Hanks, Kathryn Hahn, Bill Hader and Fred Armisen, to name a few. The filmmaker behind The Last Dance shows both the cast members and these admirers clips from the show’s various seasons, filming their reactions as they laugh, comment, analyze the material or recall the stories behind particular sketches. The back-and-forth between the archival footage, the anecdotes and the gentle, occasionally bittersweet present-day reunion makes for a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

Familiar characters such as Ed Grimley (Short) and the McKenzie brothers, Bob and Doug (Thomas and Moranis); Moranis’ impersonations (his Woody Allen is spot-on); Candy’s all-around charisma; O’Hara and Levy’s talent and versatility; and the fresh energy brought by Short, one of the last performers to join SCTV, are among the highlights of this documentary. It tells the story of a show that, while recognized and admired, has never received the kind of endless tributes and retrospectives lavished on SNL. The fact that many of the sketches are rarely seen — or, in my case, completely unfamiliar — gives the documentary an added bonus. It works as a tribute, certainly, but also as an introduction to a show that many viewers may be discovering for the first time.

Levy’s Perry Como parody, barely singing disco hits; Moranis impersonating the perpetually busy singer Michael McDonald; Martin’s deeply depressed chanteuse Connie Franklin; and O’Hara’s pop star Lola Heatherton are just some of the characters from that era who remain every bit as funny today as they surely were back then. The documentary doesn’t have a wealth of secrets or dark stories to reveal. There are a few internal tensions, particularly when the McKenzie brothers became so popular that the rest of the cast began to feel uncomfortable with the attention they were getting, as well as some disputes with SNL’s Lorne Michaels and, eventually, the show’s cancellation by NBC. But this is mostly a reunion, a celebration and an opportunity for us to spend some time with these comedy greats, who got their start on a little show that few people watched at the time but whose influence has endured.