Gilda Radner in Love, Gilda (Magnolia Pictures)

Love, Gilda is an affectionate tribute to the brilliant, fuzzy-haired comedienne Gilda Radner, who was among the breakout stars of the original cast of Saturday Night Live and who died of ovarian cancer at 42 in 1989. It doesn’t white wash if not the sordid then certainly sad aspects of her life—the sexism of the male cast members of SNL or her battle with bulimia—but it certainly doesn’t dwell on them. This is a celebration of a performer whose persona suggested a certain naiveté that camouflaged a fierce comic mind. She stood apart from the more aggressively subversive comedy of the 1970s in that her sole agenda was to make people laugh and be loved. In that way, she was a throwback to the great comediennes of the ‘50s, such as Lucille Ball and Gracie Allen.

Using diaries, old photos, and reminisces from her family, filmmaker Lisa D’Apolito charts Radner’s Detroit childhood as an obese girl who was put on diet pills at age 10 by her fashion model–pretty mother and developed an unhealthy relationship with food. What comforted her was making people laugh, which she used to divert people from her perceived flaws, or as she described her comedy, “It’s hitting on the truth before the other guy thinks of it.” Performing was also an escape, as Radner states, “I could be prettier than I am. I could be someone else.” Creating joy from her sorrow and farming it out were her gifts. The director sets up a straightforward trajectory. She tracks Gilda’s rise; her success; and for a time, her seclusion; and then her sickness and death.

D’Apolito also gathers more recent members of SNL to read Radner’s diaries and reflect on her influence. Amy Poehler cops to the fact that everything she did is essentially second-rate Radner. Bill Hader and Melissa McCarthy also provide insights. We also hear early recordings of Radner’s pre-SNL career of her palling around with Martin Short and Paul Schaffer in Toronto and eventually Bill Murray and Harold Ramis in New York. Any student of comedy should come for this section alone.

Again, D’Apolito doesn’t face away from Gilda’s challenges and the darker aspects of her life, but like her subject, she refuses to dwell on them. As a result, the documentary feels like the person it is profiling: funny, courageous, loveable, and sweet.