Candyman (2021)

CANDYMAN (2021)

Dir: Nia DaCosta

“Say his name.”

Brilliant reboot sequel that shows the myth of Candyman is as needed today as it was in 1992. Nia DaCosta updates the legend of Candyman in a direction that feels as if it originated in Bernard Rose’s 1992 film. While Clive Barker's short story is set in the UK on Spector Street, Bernard Rose learned of the high murder rate and terrible living conditions that were forced upon Chicago's low-income black population and knew the story gave itself more to Cabrini-Green than anywhere else. Rose was also influenced by the 1987 killing of Ruthie Mae McCoy who was shot dead by intruders who broke into her apartment by entering through her bathroom mirror. Once Rose chose the housing project in Chicago and gathered his research, he changed the Jaundiced villain of Barker's story to a black man suffering from a history of trauma. That trauma was created once Rose chose Tony Todd to portray his myth. Todd assisted in developing the backstory for Candyman that wasn't present in the short story. It was this backstory that provides Helen and Candyman a deeper connection that's rooted in ancestral trauma, and it birthed an origin story soaked in honey and slavery.

As the story of Helen is retold through generations, she is remembered as the villain once we get to Nia DaCosta's remake. The myth of Helen is one where a lunatic white woman kidnapped a black child from the projects as a sacrifice to Candyman. We know that it is Helen's ignorance at attempting to defraud the myth of Candyman that causes his return. He must return to re-ignite the belief in his own legend. A white woman coming in to discredit a story about a black man tortured by slave owners for falling in love sounds a lot like whitewashing history. Helen is punished but is also allowed to be a white savior at the end of the 1992 Candyman; that information is forgotten as the legend is passed down. The nineties had a lot of white saviors in films, DaCosta's film takes that away as one of the first layered details to connect this film to the original.

Cabrini-Green has changed a lot since 1992. They have torn down the red and white high rises as of 2011, promising to rebuild with more modern homes for the Chicago Housing Authority. Instead, the area is gentrified with mid-rise condo-plexes that no one can afford. What’s left is a cluster of 137 row houses just north of Chicago Avenue. These units sit next to another 450 that are fenced-off and rot away. The stretch of Division Street that once showcased the high-rises is now an open lot utilized for a City Farm. But all around that landmark, there's Xavier lofts, Parkside condos, @Properties, and Larrabee Place Apartments.

DaCosta's new characters inhabit this newly gentrified world of Cabrini-Green. When our protagonist, Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) hears the story of Helen and Candyman, he becomes obsessed. Much in the same way Helen became obsessed, but here, Anthony is a struggling artist who hasn't had a new painting in a few years. There is something about the story that he connects with and sends him down the rabbit-hole. While it may feel as if it has several of the same beats as Helen's Candyman story, it shifts quickly. Anthony produces a work for an art show that invites participants to "Say His Name." The installation includes a bathroom mirror, which when opened, shows violent artworks inside. This sparks others to say Candyman five times in the mirror, but this becomes a story happening in the background. We follow Anthony as he uncovers more about the origin of Candyman and what he can do to stop him, making us question if he even should stop him.

The wife and I were blown away. The film was a perfect mix of social commentary, reboot, sequel, fan service, and conversation engagement. I had a few qualms about the film, so when I ran to social media I wanted to see what other people had to say about the same issues I had. I figured everyone would be talking about how the rampant virus of Candyman killings were mostly shown as PG-13 or off-screen - especially when teens may or may have not been the victims (not spoiling). I figured horror hounds would be quick to sniff out a copped-out PG-13 scene in an R film. But to my surprise I find everyone bitching about there being too much commentary in the film, the film is too woke, there's too much BLM messaging, it's too forced on one opinion, and my jaw hasn't come from the floor since.

This is an effective horror film. It gets under your skin. It makes you think. It has a parable about the world around you. It digs into generational trauma. It has a message. But unfortunately, it did not kill teens on-screen. That's the only qualm I can see. The lack of gore in a horror film, that's an issue we can discuss, because all other points are moot. Every aspect of this film is effective. If you don't think it is, then go back to the original Candyman - it too is filled with message, social commentary, opinions, and it contains black representation in an era of horror cinema which usually had few and far between. If you have issues with the 'messages' contained in the film, there are many other films out there that represent you better.

It's upsetting when you must explain that horror as a genre was created to handle your fears. The genre is there to represent a parable for all things individuals may find terrifying. For a lot of people, it is terrifying to be pulled over by a police officer because proportionately the color of their skin is seen as an immediate threat, especially after 164 African Americans were killed by police officers during the production of this film. I never thought a review for this film would have to include anything about supporting the film's message. I enjoy the, “Say his name,” tagline because it is glaringly close to, “Say their names.” #SayTheirNames.