Candy Land is the truck stop prostitution story I never knew I needed.

In fact, this one didn’t even need a slasher plotline for me to like it, but if it didn’t…I might not have ever seen it. And giving the film a marketing angle is most likely the real reason why this story about lot lizards doubles as a horror.

How you feel about Candy Land will probably depend on how willing you are to accept a shoehorned religious-fanatic murder angle, because in many ways this plays like two different movies that just happen to converge.

If you strip away the horror, what’s left is an offbeat crime drama that reminded me of those edgy ‘90s indie films where every young director wrote a story about morally compromised misfits and outcasts. I miss that.

And this makes sense. After eyeballing his filmography, it’s clear director John Swab is most comfortable working in the crime genre. A lot of people discuss Candy Land as having a grindhouse vibe, but not enough for me to say Swab intended this to be a pure homage to exploitation films. There’s sex. There’s blood. It’s exploitative in the sense that all sex and blood in a film have an exploitative element, but it’s not excessive—especially considering the subject matter.

So I get why the film’s identity crisis might turn people off, especially if you’re expecting a more traditional slasher. Candy Land sits at a miserable 5.3 on IMDb as of this writing, so yeah, I’m kind of out on a limb here. I’ve recommended plenty of horror movies that live in the 6-range (the horror community’s a fickle bunch—dedicated, but with a lot of conflicting opinions). But the low 5s? Yikes. That makes this one of the least-liked films I’ve ever backed… though it’s still higher than Skinamarink. (Pity.)

However, I’m willing to go to bat for this film. I really like crime/horror hybrids and wish there were more of them, though they work best when the genres blend organically, like in The Green Room. In interviews, Swab has said that he wanted to explore characters living on the fringes and the underbelly of American life without judgment, and on this he succeeded. There’s a gritty realism to his depiction of the four young prostitutes—one of whom is male—the female hotel owner who pimps them out, and the compromised sheriff who turns a blind eye that reminds me of the era of indie crime and outcast films. (It’s also why I challenge other people’s grindhouse perception.)

Candy Land follows four sex workers—Sadie (Sam Quartin), Riley (Eden Brolin), Liv (Virginia Rand), and Levi (Owen Campbell)—who hustle at a rural truck stop under the supervision of their tough but caring madam, Nora (Guinevere Turner). At the start of the film, the body of a patron is discovered in the restroom. The sheriff (William Baldwin), a friend, is alerted and helps to keep things quiet to protect Nora’s operation, assuming the killing was a random, isolated act of violence caused by someone passing through.

Later, we learn that the group is occasionally harassed by a band of local religious zealots who loiter near the truck stop, shouting about damnation and sin. They’re mostly an easy-to-ignore nuisance until one night, on her own, a young woman named Remy (Olivia Luccardi) flees the sect and shows up at Nora’s door looking for refuge.

I really enjoyed the casting for this film. It’s hard to act a bit trashy while still being likable, but this group does a great job, particularly Quartin and Campbell. (Campbell was previously Zach in Super Dark Times.) Olivia Luccardi, whose gapped front teeth make her instantly recognizable, is good too as the innocent—but not really innocent—Remy. (I’ve seen her before in Channel Zero: Butcher’s Block.) And we even get a Baldwin brother to help me with my ‘90s nostalgia.

But mostly, I liked that glimpse into the life of a truck stop prostitute and its interesting depiction of both its regular, local patrons and potential dangers from those who are just passing by. Candy Land might be a film that has only one lunatic murderer, but potential threats are everywhere—and some of these subplots are the most entertaining parts of the film.

I’m sure some might question the way the film ends, but I enjoyed seeing how two characters, one a key figure to the horror plot and the other pivotal to the gritty crime story, wind up together to give us a finale where none of the characters can walk away happy.    

Swab may not make another horror film, but I am glad he directed this one. Candy Land is a fascinating horror/crime hybrid that is unique in its approach and subject matter. My hope is that this one will gain in reputation if it connects with the right audience. It deserves to be seen.