Candyman (2021) Review

In 2018 Universal saw a surprising hit with the release of Halloween, a modern set sequel to the original 1978 film, which ignored the muddied continuity of the previous sequels. This idea of a “Legacy Sequel” paid off big, both financially and critically, with the film being the most successful sequel to date. Realizing the potential for this trend they’ve started, Universal is at it again, this time teaming up with modern horror auteur Jordan Peele to bring the Candyman series back to life with a new film of the same name out this weekend. Similar to Halloween, this Candyman ignores the other two sequels in the franchise and is instead a direct follow-up to the original 1992 horror classic.

Directed and co-written by Nia DaCosta, 2021’s Candyman follows Anthony, a painter played by Watchmen’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, as he becomes obsessed with the titular urban legend. Say his name five times in a mirror and the “Candyman” comes to kill you. Through this story and its ties to the Cabrini Green housing projects of Chicago’s North Side, Anthony finally finds the inspiration his art has been lacking. But the further he digs into the lore of the Candyman, the more the legend consumes him until the lines between the story, his art, and his life are blurred beyond repair. 

In preparation for this latest installment, I finally watched the original Candyman for the first time and was pretty surprised at what I saw. I knew the basic premise and had seen scenes of Tony Todd in his iconic costume, wielding his hook-hand and summoning bees, but knew next to nothing about the actual movie those images came from. What I didn’t expect was that this cornerstone of Black Horror would be so… White. The original Candyman was written and directed by White people, stars a White woman, and was produced for mass consumption by wide general audiences, which in 1992 meant… White people. The original is a good movie, with an incredible central performance from horror legend Tony Todd, but it mostly filters this story of a majority Black neighborhood through a White lens. The new Candyman is here to remedy this, and essentially reclaim the story for the people it’s about. Peele and DaCosta have been very vocal about the fact that this is the fourth Candyman movie, and yet, the first directed by a Person of Color. Watching the movie, you can feel the passion of the filmmakers as they finally tell this story authentically. 

This is definitely the Candyman for 2021. While the original film focuses on the conceptual idea of an urban legend, this latest installment is more concerned with why we need to tell those stories in the first place. The film deals with generational trauma and institutionalized racism with the same bitterly satirical tone we’ve come to expect from Peele and company. Although some of the commentary can feel a bit on the nose or exaggerated, for the most part this is an effective look into the legacies that create a scary story. 

I expect that audiences seeking horror thrills may leave Candyman somewhat disappointed. While this new Candyman is being marketed as a standard slasher movie, it honestly plays more as a psychological drama. Yes, there are a handful of violent kills, but the main point of the movie is to reflect on the cracks in our society and the mental descent of the film’s protagonist. Aside from one (excellent) scene in a high school bathroom, this isn’t the horror movie you might expect it to be. Additionally, franchise fans may be frustrated by the film’s severe lack of Tony Todd, whose role in the film is little more than a de-aged cameo. It’s an excellent moment, but I did walk away wanting more Tony Todd. 

This is a beautifully shot movie, with a script that is in equal parts hilarious and thought-provoking. The film features a truly stunning use of shadow puppetry that I have no doubt will become as iconic as the titular villain’s hook-hand. Anchored by incredible performances, particularly those of Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and a fantastically scenery-chewing Colman Domingo, 2021’s Candyman is a huge step above the deeply strange original franchise. It doesn’t always come together the way you have hoped or expected, but Nia DaCosta’s vision for the horrors of gentrification stays with you long after the credits roll.