John Candy Gives Nothing But Trouble a Double Dose of Camp

Many timeless characters spring to mind when invoking the singular John Candy: The affable Del from Planes, Trains And Automobiles, Uncle Buck, or even Barf from Spaceballs. But there is one performance that seems to escape the public consciousness. Though Dan Aykroyd‘s Nothing But Trouble debuted to a less-than-stellar reception in 1991, Candy’s double role in the horror-comedy as a bumbling cop and his silent sister — as well as the film’s wholly unique take on camp — make it worthy of a re-watch.

The Story Behind the Campy Horror-Comedy

The story of Nothing But Trouble starts in an unexpected place — a screening of Clive Barker’s Hellraiser. A producer on the film had broken a rib, and decided to go to a horror movie with Aykroyd and his brother to avoid laughing. It was no use: The audience cracked up at the theatric gore, and so was born the idea to make a horror-comedy. Aykroyd offered his idea, based on a true personal story: A couple of rich New York corporate-types (Demi Moore and Chevy Chase) and their billionaire acquaintances (Bertila Damas and Taylor Negron) would go on a joyride through a small town, after which they’d be caught — and tortured by — a power-mad judge (Aykroyd). He would base the film’s setting on the abandoned mining town of Centralia, Pennsylvania, under which a coal fire has burned since 1962.

The movie would be called Nothing But Trouble, and Aykroyd would later compare it to both Beetlejuice and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. If you think that sounds strange, you’re not alone: Audiences didn’t quite know what to make of the blend of comedy and gross-out horror, and the film garnered mostly negative reviews, making $1 million on a $40 million blank-check budget. But, years on, perhaps enough time has passed to re-evaluate its merits as a cult classic — namely due to a hammy double performance from Candy.

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Seeing Double

Since Anna Salunke played both the lead female and male roles in 1917’s Lanka Dahan, double casting has both confused and delighted audiences. Casting one person in two distinct roles creates a sense of playfulness in a movie. Just like a kid playing dress-up, we get to see two sides of an actor. Suddenly, the lines of the film’s reality are blurred. This is especially true for films who utilize double casting as a means of gender bending. Candy plays Officer Dennis Valkenheiser, a cop who works for his impossibly old grandfather, the town’s judge. It’s in this performance where we see the more classic Candy character — put out but still hopeful, Dennis attempts to pull over the speeding Chase and Moore. When they don’t comply, he takes them to a terrifying scrapyard complex, where they’re held hostage until judgment can be passed. In this house of horrors, they learn the judge likes to pass death sentences without a jury — at one point sending a group of troublemakers through “Mr. Bonestripper,” a deadly homemade roller coaster with its own theme song.

In this uniquely disturbing cacophony, the audience is introduced to the judge’s silent granddaughter, Eldona. (Also Candy). Eldona can’t talk, but she can make supremely funny facial expressions. Immediately sweet on Chase, she chews the scenery like a champ. Suddenly, reality is broken in more than one way: Candy sits across the dinner table from himself in drag, waiting for the inevitable — and the movie only gets stranger from there. As Dennis, Candy grounds the film with a familiar comedic delivery. As Eldona, he transcends it, delivering the most laughs of any character without even speaking. His movements are calculated and perfect — perhaps best on display in a scene where he prepares to marry Chase’s disgusted yuppie, Chris. The judge has promised Chris that marrying Eldona will guarantee his life, so we’re treated to a lingerie try-on scene set to Frankie Valli’s kitschy “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” It’s an unforgiving role, and Candy is giving us everything.

As Aykroyd’s judge says, if you marry Eldona, “You’ll never have car trouble!” By the time we get to the shotgun wedding, soundtracked by a cameo from Digital Underground (appearing with a young Tupac), Eldona is wearing an impossibly gaudy wedding dress. She looks like a cake topper, and when she kisses Chase, it’s pure enjoyable camp.

Cult Classic? Not Quite.

Candy’s take on drag is perhaps one of the reasons Nothing But Trouble has been previously compared to the immortal Rocky Horror Picture Show, another horror romp. Unlike Rocky Horror, however, Nothing but Trouble never became a cult classic. Why? It might just be too discordant. Though Eldona’s character possesses an improbable level of charisma, thanks to Candy, it’s not quite enough to break through the veneer of competing tones. Aykroyd is giving it his all as the ancient judge, but the body horror derived from his propensity to fall apart is quite disturbing, making it hard for the audience to find a foothold. Is this funny, or is it just terrifying?

Mr. Bonestripper spits the femurs of its victims onto a painted target. Two giant, mutant babies (one of them played by Aykroyd in another dual role) capture Moore in the junkyard. It’s a cacophony of strangeness, but perhaps this is, in and of itself, enjoyable. With a creeping sense of homogeneity in Hollywood, it’s almost amazing to see a film allowed to flop as hard as this one did. And though audiences in 1991 didn’t connect with its mishmash of kitsch and death, modern fans, more well-versed in camp, might find lots to enjoy. It doesn’t hurt that the film subverts audience expectations with nearly every turn. Though Chase is punished for speeding, for example, the judge lets the Digital Underground go after a similar offense. His reasoning? Chase is a banker, and they’re musicians. This logic captures the strange sensibilities of Nothing but Trouble. It manages to bake in everything from slapstick to horror, maintaining a wild, cartoonish energy straight up to its Looney-Tunes inspired final shot — and Candy, in rare form, is the cherry on top.