Lorne Michaels grudgingly allows the camera to peek behind his gilded curtain and we’re the lucky recipients.

To say that Lorne Michaels is an enigma is an understatement. The creative genius behind Saturday Night Live is a reluctant celebrity who still insists on inserting himself into the spotlight. He’s a reticent star who fiercely guards his privacy, but also agreed to be the subject of Morgan Neville’s new, entertaining documentary, Lorne.

It’s painfully clear during the first few minutes of the film that Lorne disdains this whole, messy process. “Oh God,” he laughs self-consciously when he sees the camera, “why did I do this?” Not once, but three times he glares at the camera and turns heel while being filmed at the famed Studio 8H.

It’s obvious that he is one conflicted fellow. But Lorne has a distinct way of beguiling us with his standoffishness. What we’re hoping is to get a glimpse into his inner world while also finding out how the SNL sausage is made.

There’s enough sausage-making footage in Lorne to make us feel like giddy interlopers. We see the writers and cast members cramming into Lorne’s office to kick off the new show. We watch the struggles as Lorne and his producers decide which skits make it and which get trashed. We sit at the weekly table read with all that star power. Beloved cast members past and present gush about him, but not in an obligatory way. They love him like a father-figure but the fact is that they still don’t really know him. Here’s what we learn: his personal life is too sacred to bandy about like yesterday’s news at the water cooler. But if you’re lucky enough to be a chosen one, you’re rocketed into the Lornesphere and he’s there for you.

What Lorne is not is an emotional deep dive into the psyche of the man. There’s only so much of the kimono that he’s willing to open, and he keeps the best and most intimate parts of himself for his small, innermost circle (Paul Simon being one; Lorne lives next door). We catch a few intimate whiffs of the man – a bit about his upbringing in Toronto, the fact that his father died suddenly when he was 14, and Lorne himself waxes philosophical about how age makes one think of their childhood.

But that’s as close as we’re allowed. What we’re left with is still tantilizing enough: how his comedy was shaped through his Canadian variety show The Hart and Lorne Terrific Hour, what he learned through his gig as a writer on Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In, and Lily Tomlin speaks about giving him his first shot as producer on her Emmy award-winning network special, 1973’s Lily. It’s this fascinating trajectory that led him down the prophetic road to creating Saturday Night Live.

The interesting thing about Lorne is that he knows his place in history. He understands seismic shift in the zeitgeist he created on October 11, 1975 when the first Saturday Night aired with the Not Ready for Prime Time Players. Yet he’s not grandiose about his vaulted status as a genius who disrupted the comedic norms of the day. Rather he accepts his place with a satisfied shrug that says “Yeah, I did that.”

At 81 years of age, it’s time to seal Lorne’s legacy and this charming documentary is one vehicle to do just that.