Candyman (2021 Review)
The Candyman Can ‘Cause He Mixes It with Blood…
The original 1992 Candyman was a pretty big deal when it first came out not just because of the social commentary regarding the systemic racism towards black communities in major cities, but also because it featured one of the biggest black horror icons of all time. Keeping both of those elements in mind, it’s no wonder that horror auteur Jordan Peele wanted to present his own perspective on The Legend of the Candyman. This is the first time that he chose not to direct his own script, though he stayed on as producer. Instead, he passed the honors off to sophomore feature director, Nia DaCosta. She displays an incredible eye for eerie, surreal visuals and brings an ethereal element to the newest tale of the hooked killer. However, the film expends too much effort ensuring that the audience really gets the social message behind it, and this detracts from the tension and horror. Well, at least when it comes to Candyman.
Don’t worry, Candyman isn’t a reboot of the original. It’s a new perspective set thirty years after the original. For those who haven’t seen the original, it is essentially about a black artist, Daniel Robitaille (Tony Todd), who was subjected to horrifying mob “justice” for daring to love a white woman. The sadists cut off the hand he used to paint with and shoved a hook in the stump. Then they covered him with honey from a local colony and let the bees sting him mercilessly. Finally, they lit the guy on fire. America, am I right? Long story short, he’s a vengeful spirit who can be summoned if you chant his name five times in a mirror. The catch is that once you call upon him, he’s going to kill you and probably a lot of other people. So, why chant his name at all? Well, because of the cornerstones of the horror genre: bad stuff happens to dumb people. Now, after decades with no appearances of Candyman, an artist struggling with painter’s block, Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), finds inspiration in the legend. Like any good horror movie character, he chants the name five times in a mirror and inspiration transforms into obsession as he becomes desperate to learn more about this urban boogeyman. Soon he finds the line between myth and reality blurring.
Peele’s take on the mythos turns Candyman into more than just Daniel Robitaille. He’s presented as a manifestation of the rage and suffering that the black community has experienced at the hands of mob “justice”. It’s a gut-wrenching concept that incorporates the racism that allows the police to get away with murdering people because, “they were black.” In this new take, the cops are a metaphorical swarm that foreshadows their accent with the “buzz” of sirens. This adds a new perspective to the relationship between Candyman and his bees. It also sickeningly allows the entity of Candyman to assume the forms of these victims when he appears because every community has their “Candyman”. The one new aspect of the myth that I couldn’t totally get behind was the presentation of the character as a sort of supernatural vigilante who targets those who oppress members of the black community. This isn’t because I sympathize with his victims (though there was a questionable murder or two), but because that negates the horror aspect. It cast Candyman in a totally different light because he’s killing characters the audience doesn’t like. They might as well be rooting for him.
Despite the lack of tension in Candyman, I was hypnotized by DaCosta’s vision. She takes a step back from the story and focuses on how the film can visually manifest the essence of its villain. This is primarily portrayed through her use of reflection, and not just from mirrors. There are shots in which the line between sky and horizon is blurred to the point where it’s impossible to tell if you’re looking up or down. The primary metaphor though is her use of sophisticated shadow puppet theater in the scenes that reveal Candyman’s past. It’s a refreshing way to recount events scores of audience members probably already know, but she makes the retelling so spellbinding that I’d love to watch her recreate the whole movie with shadow puppets. I’ll be interested to see what project DaCosta moves to next because I get the sense that she is a phenomenal director in the making.
Unquestionably, the best aspects of 2021’s Candyman are the depths it adds to the folklore behind the character. This version felt much more like a Clive Barker tale and offered up so much for audiences to reflect on after the credits rolled. However, there were some narrative bumps in the road. Yahya Abdul-Mateen II seems like the protagonist throughout the movie, but when his agency is stripped from him, it switches to his character’s girlfriend, Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris). She has a backstory equally as unsettling as Anthony’s, but the two almost seem in competition with one another as the focus shifts. Of course, this could be meant as a nod to the tragic love story at the core of the original Candyman and meant to lay the groundwork for an inevitable sequel. Both are clearly victims of both the legend and systemic racism, but the split focus undermined the tension for me.
Any horror fanatic will tell you that the true greats in the genre always have underlying social commentary to them. Candyman tackles one that is both painfully relevant and fits seamlessly into the lore of the characters. DaCosta’s vision captures the suffering at the core of the legend but leaves the audience uncertain about who the protagonist of the story is. Still, she shows tremendous potential with both her eye and voice when it comes to filmmaking, and I’m looking forward to seeing what she gives us next. Despite straying from the supernatural slasher genre, Candyman is a haunting, visually compelling, and thought-provoking film. It just wasn’t the kind of horror I was expecting and that made it a bit less enjoyable, but terrifying on a whole other level.
