It’s not going to be a revolutionary hot take to mention
that the original Candyman (1992) was a film steeped in racial
commentary, while not the first and certainly not the last horror film to tackle
the subject matter, it is one that is remembered fondly because of the subtext
but equally for the surreal tone it creates as well as the delectably sweet
performance from Tony Todd as the titular character. While the newest
instalment certainly understands the importance of the theming to Candyman,
there has been a large discussion of how well it represents the issues at hand.
Quite simply put as a white British man I have no grounds to discuss the
legitimacy of the film’s portrayal, there are better reviews out there to
handle that, I would at best be regurgitating a description second-hand of what
they have said.
What I can contribute to the conversation is the discussion
of the rest of the film, but let it be acknowledged that it is certainly going
to feel somewhat hollow and that’s not what I’m trying to get across. For
better or worse Candyman (2021) is a thematically complicated film that I
am not qualified to talk about.
“Complicated” might be the ideal word for this because there
are plenty of ways on which this film confuses, mostly due to its own
inconsistencies. A Film that is obsessed with following a strict ruleset for
Candyman just highlights when they break their own rules for the sake of the
plot. Candyman as a character, everytime his name is spoken 5 times he kills
the speakers, the film makes a specific point of having exclusively white
characters partake in this parlour trick, except for one scene where two young black
girls perform it and are killed, a very quick flashback scene that is meant to
give context yet only raises further questions than it answers and also
contradicts its own central thesis.
Candyman is not just a killer or a theme, it is also
a tone. It is the music of Phillip Glass, it’s the performance of Tony Todd
performing the words of Bernard Rose, words that at times were nonsensical yet
had a poetic rhythm to it you got sucked in anyway. There was a hypnotism to
the dirty world of Candyman. Nia DaCosta certainly has a rhythm with the camera,
yet makes such a polished world that keeps the titular character both far too
vague yet also far too defined at the same time. Everything has to function by
Candyman’s rules except when it doesn’t. Candyman is presented as mostly an
idea, which is fair enough, the power of Candyman comes from the fear in his
name, the legacy that persists, but at no point does he truly take control. Let
him lurk in the shadows, be a whisper in your ear, but once he does finally take
the spotlight it is only to contradict what came before in a bizarre
presentation of vigilante justice.
Fittingly to compare it to works of art, DaCosta’s Candyman
is an incredibly well detailed painting of a city skyline. You’re impressed by
the thorough and pretty presentation, yet it doesn’t seem any deeper. While the
original was more of an abstract piece that focused on creating an environment and
an emotion that developed a long conversation after the fact. True you could
say it’s unfair to compare it this much to the original, in fact arguably it’s
better that this film went in a different direction to make it more unique, but
years from now people will still be talking about the original Candyman
as they have been for the past 30 years, but it’s unlikely this film will receive
the same treatment.
-Danny
