Candy Land (2022) A Rocky Rest Stop Promises Sweet Rewards

Our culture loves binaries. Many would argue we love them to the detriment of lived reality, but, in our storytelling, it’s hard to deny their lure. What better way to tempt us, the audience, than by pinning two diametrically opposed qualities together?

At first glance, Candy Land (2022) promises that old conflict. Set during Christmas of 1996, this psychological slasher pits the worlds of sex workers with a high-control religious sect. The sex workers, or “lot lizards” as the film calls them, work at a pit stop on Route 66 nicknamed “Candy Land.” However, their lives change with the arrival of Remy (played by Olivia Luccardi), a member of an apocalyptic cult. Seemingly banished from the only home she’s ever known, the lot lizards, especially Sadie (played by Sam Quartin) and Levi (played by Owen Campbell), decide to give her shelter. Remy’s arrival, nevertheless, also heralds some bloody, gruesome deaths…

At first, Candy Land struggles to get off the ground. The first third of the film needs to set up a lot of plot and setting. The pace juggles the development of the setting, the introduction of several important plot elements, numerous character introductions, and the first seeds of conflict in the film. The main story only really gets going after twenty-seven minutes of runtime.

Unlike other slashers, Candy Land focuses primarily on its characters and their worlds. In fact, this character work is where the film shines. The pounding heart of this film lies in our sex workers. Despite the griminess of their surroundings, the interactions between them scream love and easy camaraderie. Every single member shines as human and vibrant. Sam Quartin gives a lovely performance as the queer, uncertain Sadie. Riley (played by Eden Brolin) works as the sassy yet caring little troublemaker of the group. The film shows off the friends’ dynamics beautifully in the introduction when they troll Theo, the patriarch of the cult (played by Brad Carter).

My favorite, by far, was Owen Campbell’s Levi. Campbell works overtime to perfectly encapsulate a fun-loving and kind male sex worker who nevertheless must grapple with the shifting power dynamics of his work. His easy banter with the group and vulnerability at work make Levi feel completely realized. An early scene in a diner reveals Levi primarily goes into sex work “to party.” However, his carefree spirit does not banish his demons. We get this, particularly in Levi’s interactions with Rex (played by William Baldwin), the local Sheriff who isn’t afraid to use his power to coerce Levi into a physical relationship.

Speaking of coercion, Candy Land also excels in its writing. A lesser film would have painted our two groups, the cult, and the sex workers, in striking black and white. Wouldn’t it be obvious? Clearly, the frank, honest friends, free with their bodies and reliable in their loyalties, share no similarities with a dogmatic sect.

However, the film refuses to go easy on either side. Both groups live in liminalities, on the borders of respectability. At first glance, though, they appear as complete opposites. The lot lizards, for one, dress like normal people. By contrast, the members of Theo and Remy’s cult are wardrobed in full-body dress suits or pioneer dresses. Whereas the lot lizards are comfortably affectionate with one another in way the cult members never are.

The film delights in these contrasts. Friendly displays of ribbing and frank conversations about menstruation war with awkward conversations about cleansing, sickness, and sin. Sadie and Liv (played by Virginia Rand) engage in easy and loving intimacy. Yet cult members in conversation look down, away, or face the wall instead of each other. In one scene, Remy remains seated on the bed while Theo stands tall. Even when he attempts to crouch down to her level, the camera angle emphasizes his position of power. You, the audience member, never get to see the cult members as equals among each other (with one chilling exception at the very end of the film).

In spite of these disparities, the similarities between the two groups show, especially in the most powerful members among their numbers. While their morals differ, both group leaders, Theo and Nora the Madame (played by Guinevere Turner), aren’t afraid of manipulation or coercion. Their approaches differ, but ultimately, both leaders want the same thing: compliance.

Furthermore, the film refuses to downplay the miseries present in either life. The strict, unyielding control of the cult rings truest in Remy’s complete ignorance of the outside world. The drawbacks of sex work, however, are more explicitly shown (at least, at first). A fair warning: viewers who are sensitive to matters of sexual violence should probably steer clear of this one. Sex work can be incredibly dangerous, especially for this time period and in such an isolated setting. The film does not back down in showing these pitfalls. Nor does it soften the psychological blow of such abuse for our characters.

Finally, we come to the center of the film, Remy. Olivia Luccardi gives, by far, the best performance in the film. The micro-expressions on Luccardi’s face sell it. You see Remy grapple with despair, growing affection for our outcasts, and disgust with the corruption she’s been taught to hate. Luccardi nails every second of it. I believe in her vulnerability, her curiosity, and her religious devotion. Along with her performance, the film does an excellent job highlighting her isolation, even among friendly faces. Despite the thematic resonance of the story, Luccardi still displays excellent chemistry with her fellow cast members.

If you’re looking for a slasher that delves deeper into its characters’ lives, Candy Land is definitely for you. The movie dives deep into grime, darkness, and fear. But that doesn’t stop it from displaying the bright spots in the most unexpected places. It’s been a long time since I cared this deeply about characters in the slasher genre. If you want to experience that kind of sweetness, take a trip to Candy Land with me.