Pulpit Pit Stop

Candy Land (John Swab, 2023)

Taking into account that we're in the period of the winter duldrums where the only movies on offer tend to be Oscar bait contenders and tax write-offs, it's a pleasant surprise to have a genuinely good film coming out during this traditionally sparse time.

John Swab's film, Candy Land is a successful blend of artsploitation and faux-grindhouse. Considering it was produced in 2021, rescued from festival limbo, and then finally made available this year, it's a welcome movie for this humble blogger. It's a blessing in disguise too, since its festive setting isn't another shameless alternative Christmas cash-in, but serves as a reflective period for its characters. Perhaps the least exploitative aspect of this film, in hindsight, since it's otherwise a winning example of capturing the mean-spirited and sleazy tone of genre cinema from a bygone era.

Set at a remote truck stop location, where a collective of sex workers eke out a miserable existance peddling their services, a dramatic curveball occurs when Remy (Olivia Luccardi), a young woman from a religious cult, is left abandoned at the truck stop. Lizard lot camaraderie takes poor Remy under its wing. From there we learn about this gang and witness the dangers of the profession that's as old as Methuselah.

What sets this simple film apart from most other grindhouse throwbacks is its no f@cks given over modern day sensibilites; which is altogether refreshing, in my opinion. It makes it a more sincere effort and an obvious stand-out from all the plethora of faux-exploitation films lacking authenticity and just apeing it aesthetically. Thus, Candy Land is a rare success in this department. Despite being conveniently set in the year 1996, the film has the raw punch of seventies genre cinema. It does not hold back. Some scenes are really brutal, while quiet moments are an obvious calm before the storm.

Of course, the film benefits greatly from its cast: Olivia Luccardi's lead performance is an obvious major highlight, but the supporting cast are also very effective; particularly Sam Quartin and Owen Campbell as part of Remy's adoptive family. William Baldwin is a strange casting choice as the thoroughly callous Sheriff Rex, but he's also good here. All in all, the performances are a core element providing this drama turned horror with a level of maturity that's sadly lacking in many of its peers.

Swab's direction is very competent and mature for a film with this subject matter. It's also beautifully shot at times, which is a surprise when you consider it's filmed in crummy motel rooms and public restrooms. There's also the additional factor that it makes the most of its refreshingly short run time by switching things up very early on and revealing the killer's identity. This might be detrimental to some, but the motives and actions of its killer are no less compelling to witness unfolding on screen. In summary, Candy Land is an enjoyable and brave throwback to a style of film that's been hard to replicate well in modern times and a fine one to get this year rolling.