"Who do you think makes the hood? The city cuts off a community and waits for it to die. Then, they invite developers in and say, 'Hey, you artists, you young people, you white, preferably or only, please come to the hood, it's cheap.'"
--Anthony McCoy, Candyman
"Samuel Evans. Run down during the white housing riots of the '50s. William Bell, lynched in the '20s. But the first one, where it all began, was in the 1890s. It's the story Helen found. The story of Daniel Robitaille."
--William Burke, Candyman
The first Candyman is a masterpiece of horror and thematic storytelling, introducing a supernatural villain whose past was marked by racism and who had the unique goal of metaphysically existing as long as whispers and rumors about his presence continue. Its 2021 sequel of the same name, similar to the 2018 Halloween, ignores the other sequels released in between it and the original, but it does not match the first film's character development or honest exploration of subject matter that has haunted America for so long. Candyman himself is scarcely in the movie, which would not be a negative thing if the characters that are focused on were developed better. The performances are not the problem. It is the lack of storytelling depth, character development, and the philosophically hypocritical condemnation of racism and simultaneous approval of it (black and white characters are sometimes said to have certain psychological characteristics because of their skin color, which is demonstrably false through reason alone) that hinder this movie, and the relatively brief runtime does not help when so little of substance is done with the characters and plot.
Production Values
In spite of its severe lack of deep characterization and, more importantly, its inconsistent approach to the atrocity of racism, Candyman displays a cleverly constructed aesthetic as early as the opening title screens, where the shot of a city is tilted to the inverse of what would normally be seen as it shows buildings and the sky from below, at an angle sharp enough that it is as if it was being viewed inverted, through a mirror, and the words on the logos themselves before this are backwards to capitalize on this mirror reflection. That style and depth of integration between themes and imagery is for the most part lost afterward, with the characters suffering from a similar blandness or lack of exploration. Teyonah Parris (WandaVision) plays the girlfriend of main character Anthony McCoy with flashes of greater characterization here and there, but little to showcase outside of those moments, though Colman Domingo's fewer scenes as a secondary character named William Burke who tells Anthony more about the Candyman stories do reflect his grief and frustration. They give performances of desperation or passion when the story calls for it, but their characters are very much secondary, even with Burke. It is Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, who has established himself as an excellent actor with HBO's Watchmen alone, who has the lead role, and he is very competent indeed; it is just that his character, while still getting more attention and more development than most of the other characters, is still not revealed all that much beyond him enjoying and creating art, caring about racial injustices against African Americans, and becoming obsessed with Candyman. Other characters fare far worse overall, though one is involved in a fitting plot twist that was not telegraphed ahead of time.
Story
Some spoilers are below.
Many years after Helen Lyle investigated urban legends of Cabrini-Green for graduate school and became entangled with the "Candyman," a spirit who kills people who summon him and who might literally rely on his legend's popularity to exist, artist Anthony McCoy looks into Cabrini-Green to prepare for an art project. He creates an art piece about police brutality against a man who was later assumed to be the basis of the Candyman legend, having offered a child some candy before being swarmed and viciously attacked by police officers. Anthony says Candyman's name five times while looking at a window as a joke to frighten his girlfriend, only for a series of killings to follow that are all in some way related to Anthony's art and the legend it calls attention to. A bee sting on his right hand also leads to a progressively worse scarification of his body as he learns more about the long line of murdered African Americans who are related to the supposed story of the Candyman.
Intellectual Content
Gentrification, racism against black people, and the artistic expression of ideas and emotions are all tackled here, but with an unnecessarily brief runtime of around 90 minutes, the Candyman reboot needed more time to address them and more time to tell a stronger story. More significantly, it needed to handle them with with consistency and accuracy. Viewers see up close why the African Americans of Cabrini-Green might be terrified of both Candyman and the police, as well as how, sincerely or insincerely, the story of Candyman could become a secretive but thriving legend. Viewers see how easy it would be even today for those with power to wield it in an illicitly discriminatory manner if they wished. There is also attention brought to how there are some white people who might love what black people can do for them, but not the black people themselves. When Burke tells McCoy how white supremacists "love what we make, but not us," the story of Tony Todd's Candyman, an artist whose talents were appreciated by white people even if his humanity was not, is echoed anew.
Obviously, the concept behind Burke's statement would only apply to white people who are racist, but the 2021 Candyman makes the mistake of occasionally attributing certain nonphysical traits to black and white people, all while condemning some of the consequences of a society believing stereotypes! There are no personality traits or philosophical stances or talents a person has because they are black or white, and no one is stupid, haphazard, or impulsive because of the color of their skin, though this Candyman tries to pass off the actions or beliefs of some white characters as coming from their race; even the false stereotypes almost everyone will be forced to confront in cultural upbringing can be perfectly identified, disproven, and rejected for the logical impossibilities they are. Individuality, worldviews, and social pressures are the only reasons why anyone ever behaves in a certain way, and the color of anyone's skin cannot possibly have a damn thing to do with whether they choose to understand and live for truth.
Conclusion
Horror can be one of the best genres to hold up a mirror to human cruelty when handled correctly, as franchises like Saw reflect. Done right, horror directly faces the potential for desperation, arrogance, and vulnerability that lies within humanity, showing how various individuals might react to bleak circumstances. The 2021 Candyman reboot just does so little with this potential that apart from a handful of very excellent lines, it is a disjointed, vague, and at its worst outright hypocritical film that does not do its thematic subject matter or worldbuilding justice. As a slasher movie, it is not awful, just mediocre. As a film that addresses not only racism against black people in America, but also the dismissive treatment of the poor that can accompany it, it is somewhat bold in its periodic directness. The boldness is just not channeled how it needed to be. Uniquely stylized violence, deeply nuanced characters, and an accurate assessment of issues like racism are not to be found here.
Content:
1. Violence: Most killings occur where the camera does not show them up close or directly, but there are images of a throat that has been slit, the sawing off of a hand, and spurts of blood.
2, Profanity: "Shit," "fuck," and "bitch" are used.
No comments:
Post a Comment