Classic Film Review #32: Candyman
Upon its release, Nia DaCosta’s reimagining of the iconic Candyman (1992) was criticised for being too ‘on the nose’. I recall hearing a lot of discourse about how certain scenes didn’t resonate with viewers due to their lack of subtlety and being taken aback by this analysis. After all, surely a movie dealing with themes as intense as systemic racism deserves to do so without the need for it be hidden within the trappings of genre convention.
DaCosta’s take on Candyman is a work of art about artists and, subsequently, an interesting way to approach a horror movie. It has a level of self-awareness that permeates the story in a very interesting way. Here’s the thing: it’s not subtle. But is that such a bad thing? In an industry where critics often complain about a lack of subtlety, it’s almost refreshing to see a movie that uses that and flips it back on the critics themselves.
The character of Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) is a struggling artist whose work is mocked by others because of the way he presents ideas about race and discrimination. The other characters in the film claim that the ideas are presented with no subtlety or substance. Sound familiar? There’s even a scene where Anthony shows his Candyman piece to his partner (Teyonah Parris) and she instantly starts to talk about the lack of subtlety. However, when Anthony asks how it makes her feel, she responds differently. And this is where I realised that the lack of subtlety was completely intentional on the part of DaCosta. It's effective meta-commentary about how we perceive art and why we make it.
On top of all this, Candyman is also just a very effective horror movie. It’s not insanely scary, but it has a few great spooks in there. The most notable of these is the bathroom scene, which is horrifying in every way. The last 10-15 minutes are also incredibly effective and impactful, due in no small part to the fact that John Guleserian’s cinematography and Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe’s score are incredible. Everything is shot in an insanely unique way with perfect framing and lighting, and the music compliments this via its use of haunting string sounds and the end credit’s ghostly solo piano track.
If you were put off by Candyman upon its release, I implore you to go back and revisit it. It’s not as strong as something like Get Out, but the fact that it’s not afraid to push the boundaries is what makes it special.
