Candyman

I wanted to avoid the cliche review of comparing the reboot/requel to the original, because it doesn't satisfy me as a writer. It's obvious, and one should seek to avoid the obvious. But the exception to that is that sometimes, the obvious is the obvious because it works, and that's the case here. There is no way for me to adequately describe what works and what doesn't with Candyman 2021 without comparing it to Candyman 1992. I'm going to break it down into two sections: what works and what doesn't. Seems easy enough. What works: the acting, for starters, and this needs no comparison to the original. Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and Teyonah Parris anchor this movie, and the supporting cast works as well. Of course, Mateen is the star of the show here, and his evolution from frustrated artist to curious about the legend to obsession to regret is a sight to behold. Parris' role isn't as meaty -- she is the standard concerned but disbelieving significant other -- but she doesn't treat it like a simple role. Visually, the movie is stunning. It compares very well to the original as far as shot composition and direction goes. There are so many gorgeous shots that heighten what's going on in the scene, or otherwise just draw you into the world. Even simple things, like how when main character Anthony is in the projects near the former Cabrini Green, the camera feels like it's slightly below the normal eye level, compared to using eye level shots in other areas. Another area of the direction I loved was how sparingly the Candyman is seen. The best slasher and slasher-adjacent horror movies know when and how to highlight the monster, and when to keep them in the shadows. Part of Candyman's allure and premise is that he seems to exist out of the corner of one's eye, an ephemeral presence that strikes fear by their suggestion, not their presence. Nia DiCosta keeps Candyman hidden in shadows, shot from far away, seen in reflections, or only hinted at by way of other things happening on screen, for most of the movie. It makes when you do see him directly so much more impactful. Even the fact that some kills are obscured are done with great effect; there's a massacre in a bathroom where you don't see a single person die, but you see blood and you hear things, and it is more effective than just seeing him carve through people. This thing I love may be a bit controversial, but I love the expansion of the lore of Candyman. The one we're familiar with, Daniel Robitaille, is referenced as the original, but several others are mentioned, and this movie's Candyman is one of those someone else's. As Candyman is built on myth -- a racial reframing of the Bloody Mary urban legend -- it only makes sense that, as the years go by, the legend takes on new elements, the names of the players change. Urban legend has no canonicity or continuity; it is malleable, mutating as it passes from ear to ear and through the generations, and Candyman 2021 harnesses that. I also like how the perspective on the myth has shifted. The 1992 movie viewed the myth from the outside, a white woman looking in at it, which gave the myth this weird (perhaps condescendingly so) feeling of a foreign custom. C21 takes us into the myth from the African-American perspective. Candyman isn't just a tragic tale of forbidden love from America's racist ancestors; it is now a symbol of the racism felt throughout the generations. He is an unfortunate martyr and a symbol of reckoning, but he is also feared in the AA community. His anger knows no bounds; he is just as angry at the racist mob that made him who he is as he is angry at the members of the AA community that took no action to stop it. Candyman is a myth and a legacy nobody should be proud of. Unfortunately, this is where we have to transition to what doesn't work, and a lot of it comes back to the racial and political elements. I am not one of those people who decry when a horror movie (or any movie, for that matter) has a social or political message. That's been happening for a century. Go watch The Great Dictator from 1940 and get back to me about Hollywood is so "woke" now. And I'm not going to fault a movie for saying the quiet part loud, either. A movie doesn't always have to be subtle about its politics. Life isn't always subtle, why should art be any less? But if you're going to Make A Statement, the statement better have weight behind it, and that's where Candyman stumbles over itself. As much as the original starts to tread into whitesplaining the AA experience and treating the culture as needlessly exotic, it still handled its message with elegance and substance. The points the 1992 made of racial injustice and gentrification are valid, and moreover, they are seen and felt. The viewer can see how Cabrini-Green was built and then left to rot, and the people along with it, and how Candyman became a symbol of that systemic oppression to be both revered and feared. The 2021 version of Candyman talks about gentrification a lot; I heard one form or another of that word probably half a dozen times. It talks about systemic oppression and marginalization, and how the "good" AA's are expected to fit into neatly prescribed boxes if they want to help "clean up" the area. But Candyman 2021 NEVER SHOWS THIS. There is not one scene, not one illustration, not one example of any of this whatsoever. The impact of tearing down Cabrini-Green and replacing it with luxury apartments that are filled with white people and the "right kind" of AA people, how much harder it is to fit into this world and how much more work they have to constantly put in to prove they belong there, is never shown. We just hear about it, in passing, reducing the racial politics in the movie to a cinematic Twitter post. Candyman wants to have it both ways; it wants to use racial politics as a core around which to tell the story, but it doesn't want to put any meat on the bone, because that could be alienating to some people. The movie is afraid of itself and its very nature, and as a result, the racial elements, which should be the beating heart of the movie, feel hollow. As much as the movie is visually stunning, it isn't scary in the slightest, and that is especially true of the Candyman himself. Even in the laughably abysmal sequels, the character of Candyman has a gothic, romantic air to him, and it imbues the movie with that same feeling. When, in the original, he sees Helen in the parking garage and invites him to be his sacrifice, it is alluring and terrifying all at once. This Candyman has none of that. It is a bog-standard horror movie about a vengeful ghost, and the Candyman himself is little more than an apparition in the mirror. He never speaks. He doesn't toy with his victims. He has no presence when he does appear. He's just a guy in a trenchcoat with a hook for a hand. In the final sequence, the second of two large-scale massacres, Candyman is little more than Jason in a winter coat. And the final thing where doesn't stand up is in how the new additions detract from the movie. Candyman is said to be a recurring myth; a new one rises whenever a new heinous crime is perpetrated against the AA community. But a character seems to be chosen to become the new Candyman BEFORE anything bad happens to him (never mind the late this-guy's-been-in-on-it twist that makes no sense and only exists to facilitate the extremely rushed ending), so C21 seems unclear about the rules it invented. Just as bizarre is how it retcons the ending of the original movie. In it, Helen Lyle saves a baby from Candyman, but dies in the process inside a massive bonfire. The entire community sees it happen, and Helen becomes the new vengeful spirit. This last part is never acknowledged at all, which is irksome in and of itself. But somehow, despite literally dozens of witnesses, C21 says everybody thinks Helen stole the baby herself and was intending to sacrifice it until the people got it from her, and then she walked into the flames on her own. I know the nature of myth means distortions through the years, but given the number of witnesses, this just makes no sense. It seemingly exists only to facilitate another twist that adds a plot hole instead of intrigue. I don't want to say "it's the best Candyman movie since the original", because that is an extraordinarily low bar to clear. Candyman 2 was, at best, mediocre, and 3 was unwatchable dreck. All this had to do to be better was to be functional and it would accomplish its goal, and it does that, and more. I did enjoy it, despite devoting so many words to its problems. Its problems, though, are impossible to ignore, and prevent it from being the great movie it could and should be.