CANDY (1968)

Slowly, I am catching up on movies from the mid-to-late 60's that I heard about when I was growing up; since I was only 13 in 1969, I was really too young to have seen most of them when they were new (though my liberal-minded mother *did* take me to see BONNIE AND CLYDE when I was 12). That odd burst of idiosyncratic, psychedelic, sexy, and often impenetrable Hollywood movies didn't last long, but there is still a cultural aura about those films that makes them interesting to watch in the same way I find it fun to watch even the most routine pre-Code films of the early 30's, largely in order to get a idea of how popular culture was reflecting and affecting the times. This one is loosely based on Voltaire's "Candide," and may have been an influence on THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN (1970--reviewed 7/14/03) in that a central figure has a series of seemingly unrelated adventures which contribute to his or her education in the ways of the world.

In this film, Candy (Ewa Aulin), a young, blonde, and quite comely girl in her late teens, is thrust into the big bad world of older men who befriend and mistreat her. Her problems start with her befuddled father (John Astin) and her smoothly lecherous uncle (also played by Astin), and along the way she meets up with, among others, a lecherous poet (Richard Burton), a lecherous military man (Walter Matthau), a lecherous Mexican gardener (Ringo Starr, naturally!), and a lecherous guru (Marlon Brando). In all cases, she is used as an ego-boosting sex toy, though never in such a manner that you couldn't exactly call it rape. Aulin's empty-headed expression rarely changes, so we never know what she's thinking about her own debasement. I have no idea what to make of the opening and closing segments, which seem to imply that Aulin may just be a bundle of cosmic energy which has taken shape temporarily on Earth. I suspect we're not meant to think too hard about any of it. The stars are mostly wasted, with the exception of Richard Burton, who does a wonderfully funny turn as a hippie Dylan Thomas-type; no matter where he is, inside or out, a breeze is always blowing on his long hair and flowing cape. The best acting really comes from Astin in his dual role, but it's a singularly thankless role. There is some music by Steppenwolf, and a catchy closing theme done by the Byrds. The sets, costumes, and colors are more fun to pay attention to than the action of the film. Recommended only for die-hard fans of the period. [DVD]