WATCH! The Candy Land commercial that haunted me for years! (Updated for 2024!)

This is what Milton Bradley's Candy Land looked like in 1978.

The game board as it looked in '78.

It's funny how an utterly ephemeral piece of music will become firmly lodged in one's brain for decades. Take, for instance, the instrumental music in an early '80s ad for the Milton Bradley board game Candy Land. There was a particular 30-second spot for this product that I must have seen dozens of times while watching Popeye and Andy Panda cartoons as a kid. Obviously, Milton Bradley bought up a lot of advertising time on children's TV shows, and I was smack dab in the middle of the target demographic.

The commercial itself is typical of the era. In a sunshine-yellow suburban kitchen somewhere, a young brother (played by a pre-Christmas Story Peter Billingsley) and sister play the game with their mom, while a gentle-voiced male announcer explains how it all works.

But underneath the narration is a jaunty, repetitive little melody with a whistle-like sound. To this day, I remember that insidious little ditty by heart. I will likely never forget it. As for the narrator's spiel, I didn't commit every word of it to memory, but there are certain passages that stick out: "You'll discover the Gingerbread Plum Tree, a Rainbow Pass, and Gumdrop Mountain! But be careful of the Cherry Pit Falls, and don't get stuck in Molasses Swamp!" The way he weirdly emphasizes "Rainbow Pass," as if it's a major selling point, is rather memorable.

Incidentally, one thing I learned in the course of researching this article is that there is no "definitive" version of the classic game. The internet can't even decide whether it's called Candy Land or Candyland. Under either spelling, the game goes back to 1949. The gameboard itself and the box it comes in have been redesigned and revamped many times since then. What was once merely "Molasses Swamp," for instance, is now a sentient creature unappealingly named "Gloppy." Other characters, like "main antagonist" Lord Licorice, have been added to Candy Land since the days of my youth. (In my day, bad luck was the only antagonist in Candy Land.)

Through trial and error, I learned that the version of the game seen in the famous ad dates back to 1978. Most sources say the commercial first appeared in the early 1980s, possibly 1983.

The indelible Candy Land jingle played a minor yet arguably-significant role in my life. I can remember humming it over and over to annoy my older sister during a long car trip. She must have identified the song, too, because she said, "Mom, tell Joey to stop singing the Candy Land song!"

A few years later, when I joined the school band, a few of my fellow musicians-in-training and I would try to learn as many pop songs, TV and movie themes, and advertising jingles as possible on our respective instruments. Then as now, I played the euphonium—a little-understood and much-neglected instrument to which I was dutifully assigned after failing to make the grade on the cornet. 

Being relegated to the low brass section was moderately more fun if I could play a reasonable facsimile of '"Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin or "The Ballad of Jed Clampett." I remember it was a major victory (in my own mind) when I learned the familiar seven-note "Miss Gulch" theme from The Wizard of Oz. But there was this one kid, Marc Wojtowicz, who played the saxophone and had a dizzying range of tunes at his command. And one of them was—you guessed it—the Candy Land jingle. That may not impress you, but it impressed the hell out of me.

Anyway, here's the commercial. If the song takes up permanent residence in your subconscious, remember that I tried to warn you.

UPDATE FOR 2024: Reader Dan Mahoney informs me that the jingle used in the Candy Land commercial is actually a piece of stock music called "Whistling Robot" by British composer and organist Harold Smart (1921-1980). In more recent years, Harold's music has turned up on SpongeBob SquarePants and its various spinoffs. Thanks for setting the record straight, Dan!

Ed Wood Wednesdays: The Wood Promo Odyssey, Part Six by Greg Dziawer

Ed Wood's 1971 film Necromania saw a lot of bookings in Hawaii.

Of the sex films helmed by Ed Wood in the last dire decade of his life, it is perhaps 1971's Necromania that is best-remembered. That wasn't always so. In fact, it was not until 1987 when the film was first attributed to Ed. A partial version of the film finally re-emerged on home video in 1994 from Something Weird. Though the movie itself was incomplete, that tape featured an introduction from Basket Case director Frank Henenlotter, who discussed the film with Wood biographer Rudolph Grey. A DVD containing the complete hardcore and softcore versions was released by Fleshbot Films a decade later.

But Necromania had a surprisingly long life in theaters, too. Newspaper ads for theatrical showings of the film indicate it was still making the rounds as late as 1982. In the previous decade, in both hardcore and softcore variants, Necromania regularly played in fleapits across the country, then no doubt just another bit of anonymous sex to satisfy the punters. And at least through Ed's passing in December 1978, he never saw a dime of the profits.

This week, we're sharing a clutch of advertisements promoting theatrical showings of Necromania in Honolulu. Yes, while Necromania played in all of the places you might expect—from Hollywood to Cleveland to Rochester—it cropped up in Honolulu at multiple theaters in late October of both 1972 and 1974, just in time for Halloween. There, it was screened at venues alongside Hong Kong kung-fu flicks and Japanese sword epics. 

The world is my BarcaLounger. I shall not want.

Men love to recline in their BarcaLoungers. Women like to stand next to BarcaLoungers.

No joke here. No clever insights. No navel-gazing critiques. Just a man and his BarcaLounger. There is, I think, no greater achievement of Western Civilization in the 20th century than the luxuriously-padded reclining chair. A BarcaLounger or a La-Z-Boy is the finest chair a man could hope for in this lifetime, certainly far superior to any king's throne. Have you ever seen a throne, like the ones on Game of Thrones? Not comfy. Some thrones are made of gold and bedecked with jewels. But gold and jewels do not caress the nether regions. The opposite, really. So give me a BarcaLonger any day. In fact, let's just look at some more vintage recliner ads, eh?

"Santa, it's been three days. Is everything all right at home?"

"Okay, Gretchen, you can sit in the special chair, too. When the men aren't using it."

"We need to talk about your drinking, Helen. It's awesome. Keep it up."

Would you believe Ted died 20 minutes ago? You would?

And now here's the building from 'Blade Runner' in a damned Twix commercial

The unmistakable Bradbury Building in a commercial for Twix.

This has been a weird week for me and candy commercials with ties to cult cinema. On Wednesday, I told you about a York Peppermint Pattie ad obviously modeled on Requiem for a Dream, and now I'm writing about a Twix ad filmed at one of the most prominent locations from Blade Runner. What can I say? The internet keeps making me sit through pop-up ads for candy, and this is the result. 

Specifically, a 2014 spot for Twix called "Factory Tour" was filmed at the historic Bradbury Building in downtown Los Angeles. If you've seen Los Angeles Plays Itself, you already know all about this place, but even if you haven't, you've likely seen it in a movie or TV show. Completed in 1893 and designed by Sumner Hunt and George Wyman, the Bradbury is the oldest architectural landmark in L.A. It has been a popular filming location for decades due to its distinctive look: plenty of oak, wrought-iron railings, geometric staircases, and a giant skylight. 

Though Ridley Scott used the hell out of it in Blade Runner, the Bradbury has stood in for any number of buildings in TV and film over the decades, giving off a vibe which is simultaneously elegant and seedy. And that's just how it looks in the otherwise-lighthearted Twix commercial, where it's supposed to be a candy factory. Note how the oppressive and foreboding atmosphere of the building completely dominates the 30-second commercial. The actors seem to know that they're in the belly of a pitiless and insatiable beast. Doesn't that just make you want to run out and buy some Twix bars?

The Clearblue commercial makes a great argument for mass sterilization

"Oh my god, I think I'm gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

In their infinite wisdom, the gods who run the internet have decided that I must sit through the Clearblue Advanced pregnancy test commercial several dozen times each day. Why, internet gods, why? What did I do to offend thee? Whenever I click on a video or article these days, I brace myself for that insipid music, that stilted acting, that dreary dialogue. Keep in mind, I have now seen this commercial more times than I've seen all my favorite movies put together. I should have it memorized by now,

There are a few different versions of this commercial floating around. The shortest edit mercifully cuts down the dialogue by a few lines, for example, but adds an uncomfortably long, text-only, oppressively silent disclaimer at the end explaining that this particular pregnancy test is not meant to take the place of a visit to a real doctor and that, if you use it, your child has a 40% higher chance of being born with either more or fewer fingers than what is considered "normal."

Either way, you get the basic plot here: two textbook "basic bitches" sit across a kitchen table, and one reveals to the other that she is two weeks pregnant, causing the other to squeal with delight. And how does the baby-mama-to-be know the number of weeks? With the Clearblue Advanced Pregnancy Test with Weeks Estimator™, of course! It seems pretty benign, and it only lasts 15 seconds. So why do I hate this ad so much? Let me count some of those ways.

This ad's color scheme: taste the rainbow.

• The music. I mentioned this before, but the background score is beyond wretched. There's no integrity to it whatsoever. I mean, just listen to it! It's this sappy, wussy, "la la la," frou frou frippery, the musical equivalent of low-fat yogurt with no fruit on the bottom. And I think part of the melody is swiped from the "Every kiss begins with Kay" jingle from Kay Jewelers. At least those ads have the decency to include Jane Seymour, a lady of character and taste, rather than these two colorless ninnies. And speaking of color...

• The overall production design. I know that Clearblue has "blue" in the name and that the company's business model is founded upon baby-making, but even so, the "baby blanket blue" color scheme in this ad is oppressive to my eyes. I mean, the clothes, the walls, the furnishings, and even the actresses' faces and arms have this pale, washed-out blue tint to them. This whole commercial looks like it got badly faded on laundry day. And, of course, the women in this world don't eat, so what do they do with their plates? Stick 'em on the wall, of course! Gah! What awful parallel universe is this? Because it certainly doesn't look like any place on Earth.

• The acting. I can't decide whether the acting in this commercial is subtly brilliant or not-so-subtly terrible. If these women are supposed to be actual friends who really do care about one another, then the acting on display here sucks eggs. But, on the other hand, if the subtext here is that these women secretly hate each other and can barely disguise their contempt for one another, the acting is pretty good. Because that's what comes across when Not Pregnant Lady covers her face to deliver the commercial's big line: "Oh my god! I think I'm gonna criiiiii-yeeeee!" On the outside, she's pretending to smile. On the inside, she's screaming, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" But I'm pretty sure these women are genuinely supposed to enjoy each other's company, so I'm going to say that the acting is lousy.

• The women themselves. One of my favorite hobbies is making snap judgments about people based on just fleeting first impressions and very little actual evidence. So, of course, that's what I did with the women in this commercial. I've judged them and found them guilty on a number of charges. Specifically, I have decided that these two ladies are the poster children for "basic bitchery" in the social media era. Their lives revolve around yoga, North Face jackets, UGG boots, pumpkin spice, and their own smartphones. And what do they do to relax? Well, they sip overpriced coffee from giant white mugs in a hermetically-sealed kitchen and natter on about the joys of getting knocked up. 

So there you have it, folks. I think the evidence is all there. The Clearblue Advanced pregnancy test commercial is a flagrant and unmistakable violation of the Geneva Convention. Its cast and crew should be soundly horsewhipped for a period of no less than 15 consecutive hours. Thank you.