Not so good. The premise is simple enough, and it came pretty close to working in the novel by Terry Southern and Mason Hoffenberg: take Voltaire's Candide and set it in 60s America, with an innocent girl in place of the innocent young man, and, of course, make sex the central matter. The novel's Candy is led farther and farther into lovemaking because she embodies sympathy. This sympathy involves sensing the need men have for her without ever really understanding it, and so the joke is, apparently, that she has sex with various men because she misunderstands their lust for a deeper spiritual need—and this, the novelists suggest, is itself the essence of male sexuality: the wish for a compliant, innocent beauty. It's complicated satire, because at the same time it promotes and mocks arousal. Does the movie do this? No. The movie offers a series of comic bits, each featuring more or less great actors, encountering Candy: Richard Burton as the poet McPhisto, Ringo Starr as the Mexican gardener Emmanuel, James Coburn as the surgeon Dr. Krankheit, Walter Matthau as General Smight, Charles Aznavour as the hunchback, and Marlon Brando as the guru Grindl. Other parts: Anita Pallenberg, John Huston, John Astin, and Sugar Ray Robinson. The title part is played by Ewa Aulin, a young Swedish actress who's in over her head. She's pretty enough, but hardly subtle—more of a blank slate. The story, with a screenplay by Buck Henry, is mostly a picaresque sort of romp, with skits going on too long, so that the movie, despite its billing, is neither very sexy nor very funny. It's as if it were aiming for a sexier subject matter but a similar satirical approach as Dr. Strangelove, but it misses the mark nearly all the time.