There has never been - nor will there ever again be - a film quite like Candy. This vulgar, scattershot, psychedelic sex satire is an utter failure, but boy what a fascinating failure!! It offers the chance to see a roster of talented stars working on such obfuscated material that their only get-out clause is to overact to epidemic levels. It also offers a chance to experience the sexual permissiveness and hallucinatory extravagance of 1960s society, in a film made just as the cinema was breaking away from the Production Code into a new and exciting era of relaxed censorship and franker morality.<br /><br />The film has no plot to speak of, but is more a series of highly exaggerated vignettes. Naive high-school beauty Candy Christian (Ewa Aulin) begins her odyssey of sexual misadventures at a poetry seminar given by the reviled but popular poet McPhisto (Richard Burton). Upon taking the drunken poet back to her house to dry his trousers - soaked with booze - the family's Mexican gardener Emmanuel (Ringo Starr) mistakenly believes that Candy is coming on to him, so he makes love to her on a pool table in the basement. Candy's father (John Astin) walks in on them and is so distraught that he arranges for his daughter to take a break in New York with her uncle (Astin again). Candy ends up on an Air Force jet where she is once again seduced, this time by a mad air force officer (Walter Matthau); later she is taken advantage of by a brilliant surgeon (James Coburn) who performs a dangerous operation on her injured father. During a post-operation party, Candy's father wanders off and the girl attempts to find him on the streets of New York. Here she gets into yet more sexual situations, first being raped by a weird hunchback thief (Charles Aznavour) and later rather indecently frisked by a horny cop (Joey Forman). Candy finally seeks refuge in the back of a truck, but it turns out to be the travelling home of sex-addicted guru Grindl (Marlon Brando)... and, yes, you've guessed it, he too takes advantage of the over-sexed yet ever-innocent girl.<br /><br />It is hard to be sure if there is any point to all this, though the lack of a meaningful narrative suggests that the film is trying to convey some kind of subtextual meaning. Perhaps the film is attempting to say that men are devious and conniving creatures who will try every dirty trick in the book to get into the pants of an attractive young girl? Or maybe it is saying that pretty young blondes who wear impossibly short skirts are capable of driving men of every age and occupation to experience their deepest desires? The original book was apparently a satire on pornographic clichés (I haven't read it, but I've read ABOUT it), but the film seems to be more concerned with titillation than out-and-out porn. Of the actors involved, Burton registers best as the self-indulgent poet. Matthau is quite funny too as the absurd air force officer. The biggest wastes are Coburn and Brando, the latter giving perhaps his laziest ever performance as the sex guru (though you can understand his agreeing to be in this.... a salary of $50,000 to rip off Aulin's clothes and romp around with her seems a pretty fair incentive!) Candy is a total mess of a movie, but you should still watch it if only to say you've had the dubious pleasure of experiencing its unique brand of vulgarity, chaos and extravagance.