Candy
It’s always cool when you discover an older film starring one of your favorite actors that in all these years you had NEVER even heard of, and the only thing better than that is when you find an older film that has a virtual slew of big name stars in it and still it had managed to stay off your radar for such a long time. Sometimes there’s a reason for that though, as maybe the film had bombed severely upon its original release or one of its many stars had disowned it or just maybe, the nature of the film’s humor or message had gone over everybody’s heads back then and even now would remain difficult for the typical modern viewer to figure out. That brings us to this 1968 opus, based upon a so called “dirty book” written in the early 60s by Terry Southern (which itself was based on Voltaire’s classic novel Candide due to the similar first names of the main characters and its extremely chaotic, fast paced storyline), adapted into screenplay form by Buck (The Graduate) Henry, and directed by Frenchman Christian Marquand for whom this would be his final effort in that field before returning to a successful character acting career. Indeed, since much of the budget was put up by European producers, it resulted in several key roles in the cast (mostly female) being played by European stars that were little known on American shores, at times making for an awkward mix with the big Hollywood names, but it was what it was, as Henry’s dialogue heavy script also came to the point of being excessive but nonetheless still rewards the patient viewer who can manage to pay attention despite the fact that the film is essentially just a goofy sex comedy disguised as social satire. Best of all though, is the fact that the movie employed both The Byrds and Steppenwolf to produce and perform the guitar laden soundtrack which successfully gives the whole affair a distinctive 60s style vibe. For the key lead role of Candy herself, Swedish beauty queen Ewa Aulin was cast and despite being hampered by playing an American girl with a thick accent, the intention of having her character be a sultry, blue eyed, blonde teenage girl whom no man could resist was certainly fulfilled, with the added caveat being that along with her youth and beauty, Candy was also relatively clueless on an intelligence level as well, the type that literally wanders from place to place with no idea where she is going and even less aware of the devastating effect which her sexuality has on all the men who encounter her, literally being introduced in the opening scene (figuratively of course) as some kind of an otherworldly celestial being whose greatest powers are strictly in the physical sense of the word. Even more outlandish is the fact that this sweet, innocent, dim bulb girl seems to live in an alternate universe of Earth where intellectualism is rewarded, revered, and highly respected (maybe what would happen if the hippies took over everything?) and doctors and poets are treated as if they are rock stars and the only overriding, all purpose ointment for everybody regardless of their background is that of sexual desire. Along with Aulin, the movie is also anchored by John Astin in the dual roles of Candy’s Daddy (who is obviously attracted to her but yet always maintains a repression of his desires) and his twin brother Uncle Jack (who is also attracted to her but makes no attempt to hide it, always making lewd and suggestive remarks towards her) in her episodic quest where she manages to encounter all the so called “great men” of her time. First up to bat is the poet Mephisto (Richard Burton, given a truly spectacular entrance) whose exquisite poetry (and the way in which he recites it) makes young girls faint even as he has a constant wind machine always blowing his hair for dramatic effect. Burton thankfully seemed to know better than anybody else the intention of the material and thus comes off as being the funniest “guest star” in the film, even going so far as to do self parody of his known, notorious alcoholism (actually licking booze off the glass floor of his limo) and wearily giving instructions of how to order his latest poetry book noting that he “accepts cash and…money orders” in such a voice as if he were reciting Shakespeare plus having as his loyal sidekick none other than Sugar Ray Robinson (yes, THAT Sugar Ray who was the legendary boxer) before he gets an eyeful of Candy and pulls out every great artist bullshit trick in the book in order to get with her. Next up is Ringo Starr as Emmanuel, the simple minded (and thus the one who has most in common with Candy herself) Mexican gardener planning on being a priest (“Emmanuel is good boy!”) who nonetheless takes very little coaxing to mount on top of the lovely blonde girl, much to the chagrin of her straight laced family (and seeing the drummer of The Beatles as such an offensive stereotype is just as strange as advertised). Then she runs into Walter Matthau as an Army general commanding an always airborne unit who takes a little too much pride in his men’s regimented performance drills but still takes Candy into the cockpit to put some desperate, pathetic Walter Matthau type moves on the teenage girl and nearly causes his own plane to crash. From there we move on to the most successful neurosurgeon in the world played by James Coburn, whose surgeries are as hard to get tickets to as a Broadway show as he struts around the operating room making a much bigger event out of it than he should for the amphitheatre of adoring fans looking on. Coburn’s portion of the movie is also notable because he represents the first male figure to come off as being genuinely SINISTER in his intention, acting like a depraved enabler during his “post op afterparty” for whom his nurses all seem to worship him sexually while he brands them with his mark (that being his initials) before conducting a staged incident with the leering old head doctor (naturally played by John Huston) in order to get her alone so that he may “examine” her, but not before shooing off the disappointed older man (“But it’s been a long time since I examined anybody.”). Candy escapes this mess and wanders New York City aimlessly before encountering a dirty looking filmmaker (Enrico Maria Salerno, one of the European imports), complete with flies buzzing around him who (obviously) tries to get Candy to do a porno movie with him in a semi funny bit before she runs into a Hunchback Juggler (Charles Aznavour, a beloved performer in France and Canada but barely known in the USA) who is also a master thief in what is maybe the film’s only truly unfunny segment, depicting this character as being able to walk on walls and ceilings but with none of it having any real meaning or making any sense. Finally, she boards a large trailer in the back of a truck for there is still one more man remaining for her to get into his head: Marlon Brando as the (possibly false) Guru named Grindl who lives in the trailer of the constantly moving vehicle and thus has created his own oasis environment there, even as Brando (whose initial involvement got the rest of the film financed) himself declared this as being “the worst film I ever did”. Either way, Brando’s Guru (possibly meant to represent any man of Religion) seems to try harder than any of the others to string a line of bullshit in order to impress Candy into some quick easy sex, only to have his wig fall off and he himself run out of gas when he actually gets what he wanted in order for them to achieve “enlightenment”. The film ends with Candy in California, wandering aimlessly (as usual) before finding her ultimate fulfillment via a twist that some might find either incredibly relevatory or possibly just offensively hilarious or maybe even just plain stupid (or a copout). The movie certainly isn’t anything more than just a sex comedy though, so actually expecting more might be a bit much outside of its cynical (yet correct) assertion that all the money and education in this world will never change anything about the way a man feels below the waist when faced with a teen dream blonde sexpot who would appear to be available (hypocrisy be damned). But, given that and the cast involved, it’s very possible that this might truly be The Greatest Sex Comedy Ever Made…
9/10