Candy
Director: Neil Armfield
Rated: MA
Released Thurs 25 May


'Candy's title may not be its strongest feature, in that it fails to accurately represent its rather depressing content. There are moments of idealism littered throughout the film, but if the title is alluding to these miserably temporary sections, then it can further be accused of sadism. But then, if this conclusion is drawn, we can see that the title does in fact represent the film, as the film itself is a little cruel. It treats its subjects with utter pitilessness, sending them backward to psychological disintegration.

The subjects in question are Candy (Abbie Cornish) and Dan (Heath Ledger), two artistic young Australians who we know from the start are lovers, and soon discover share affection for the use of illicit drugs. Dan is a full-fledged junkie, having been mentored in the art since 'way back' by associate professor of organic chemistry and veteran-addict friend, Casper (Geoffrey Rush). Candy is, then, the pupil, but she soon acquires an equally ferocious drug-attachment. Their partnership seems a unique spark in an alien, rather banal world from which the narcotics, augmented by painting and poetry, provide some form of escape. The film follows the hell bound progression of their substance dependence, which unfortunately also happens to be taking their love down with it.

The parts of the film that deal with the ever increasing addiction and its affects on the pair's relationship are appropriately gritty. For every moment of ecstasy and release the drugs provide, a disproportionately large quantity of dysfunction is allowed leeway in their relationship.

Interspersed are pockets of ideal, atmospheric, and drugless romance that, unlike the grinding realism of the rest of the film, show human reality at its most wispy and (indeed) unreal. This association of the ideal and the ultra-real is reminiscent of that such as in Terence Malick's 'The Thin Red Line', except that where his work was dealing with universal matters and had full rights to such abstraction and incongruity, director Neil Armfield's film, in its focus on specific, quasi-bohemian lovers, does not.

Fortunately by the second half this discrepancy disappears. Intense, affecting emotional drama takes over completely and the cast are allowed full space for expression of their exceptional skills. Both leads are excellent, especially Ledger, who masterfully fluctuates between shame and resignation for his social and self-irresponsibility.

Wil McGinley