‘Candyman’ Review: Nia DaCosta’s Film Will Terrify a New Generation of Viewers
Starring: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Teyonah Parris, and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett
Written by: Jordan Peele, Win Rosenfeld, and Nia DaCosta
Directed by: Nia DaCosta
Nia DaCosta’s Candyman has been dubbed a “spiritual sequel” to the 1992 film of the same name. But it’s perhaps more appropriate to drop the word “spiritual” and just call it a sequel. This 2021 follow-up effort shakes things up in its approach to depicting the Candyman character. To avoid potential spoilers, I won’t say much more… but I will tell you that its storyline gives the film more room to establish its own mythology while paying respect to the Bernard Rose-helmed original.
Leading up to Candyman’s release, I had heard complaints that the new film looked like it was going to be “too political.” My counter is that the film is more socially conscious than political. There is nothing “political” about referencing the adverse impact gentrification has on communities of color. Anyone, regardless of which side of the political aisle they’re on, will find that plenty of research supports that claim.
Candyman also touches on the strained relationship people of color—especially Black people—have with the police. But again, these on-screen issues are founded in fact and backed with a plethora of evidence. I don’t believe that the flick is making a political statement so much as it’s showcasing real-life concerns that members of the Black community are faced with on a daily basis.
Also Read: Candyman Star Yahya Abdul-Mateen II Worked as an Architect Before Breaking Into Acting
This sequel clearly makes the point that Candyman was born from oppression. The character is an outgrowth of the way the Black community has been marginalized and dehumanized—a response to centuries of systemic racism.
DaCosta gives audiences a look at how terrifying and soul-crushing it would be to live in a reality where your life is not valued by the police, civil engineers, or even people you interact with in the workplace. But the scariest part is that a person of color cannot escape that reality when the film is over.
Seeing a white cop trying to manipulate and coerce Brianna’s story to make it fit his narrative filled me with frustration and rage. But that is all too often a reality that people of color face when dealing with the police. DaCosta does a commendable job of spotlighting aspects of the Black experience that white viewers can never fully grasp. Her film offers renewed hope that people who see it can continue the dialogue it sparks.
As a white man, I should also say not to take my interpretation of the film as the final word. There will be BIPOC weighing in who will be uniquely qualified to speak to Candyman’s themes and cultural resonance. I’m well aware that I can never understand what it means to be a person of color. But I am grateful to DaCosta for giving me pause to ask myself how I can be part of the solution.
Beyond the film’s astute social commentary, how does it stack up against the original?
The 1992 film had such a profound impact on me that I’ve never actually dared to say “Candyman” in front of a mirror. My rational brain recognizes that the story is a work of fiction, but on some subconscious level, I’m still afraid of it.
DaCosta managed to scare me in new and different ways. Some of her film’s success lies in its airtight screenplay, which she co-wrote with Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld. But DaCosta’s directorial prowess cannot be overstated. The way she intertwines jump scares and horrifying visuals with the film’s socially conscious narrative works brilliantly, and her approach to on-screen violence is especially impressive.
Candyman boasts some truly horrifying effects sequences, but the director often opts to use what we don’t see to terrify us. She understands that what we are likely to conjure in our imaginations is scarier than anything she could show. She often chooses, instead, to highlight the bloody aftermath of a scene, or play out the violence in silhouette.
DaCosta also makes some bold stylistic choices. Her use of shadow puppetry to convey the backstory of the Candyman legend, both creepy and surprising, renders the film reminiscent of a dark fairy tale. When she does show the Candyman, it’s usually in reflections and in fleeting glances. That she’s sparing in how and when she chooses to reveal the character adds an effective air of mystery.
That’s what a great work of art should do: It should get under your skin and stick with you. And like its predecessor, DaCosta’s sequel does just that. The results are frightening and are sure to keep me thinking in the days to come.
Candyman opens in theaters August 27, 2021, courtesy of Universal Pictures.
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Candyman
Summary
Nia DaCosta expands upon the Candyman mythology and combines jump scares, horrifying imagery, and social commentary in a way that is sure to delight and terrify a new generation of moviegoers.
Categorized:Reviews
