Truth Is Scarier Than Fiction
As much as I adore horror, the genre, like most, doesn’t always have a lot to say. In a pool packed full of jump scares, tired storylines, and predictable twists, originality has become a rare commodity. Originality is so rare, there are only a few horror creators I can think of that consistently produce fresh content. While Jordan Peele has fallen victim to some of the genre’s pitfalls, he always has something to say. Although, it should be noted that Candyman was co-written by Peele, Rosenfeld, and DaCosta, and was directed by DaCosta. Gotta give credit where credit’s due.
Let’s get the hard part over with. Is 2021’s Candyman without its faults? No. It’s a bit predictable and, in my opinion, leans too heavily on empty gore for its scares, which serves to its detriment. But we all know how I feel about gore. It’s a cheap tactic that often detracts from a film’s ability to induce fear. Horror films often rely on gratuitous death scenes for scares—sadly, Candyman didn’t break this mold. Nearly every death in Candyman proved bland and predictable. They’re dotted throughout, as if to remind us we’re watching a horror film. But where these scenes really fall flat is in the character development. The film allows for little to no emotional investment in most of the characters who meet their demise. These are cardboard figures whose roles prove inconsequential, therefore their individual deaths mean nothing and induced no fear.
As scares go, Candyman offers nothing we haven’t already seen, and I’d argue even the scarediest of cats could watch this film without needing to keep their lights on at night. But I’d also argue that this isn’t where Candyman places much importance. Peele’s Get Out offered far more in terms of suspense. At times, it danced beautifully between outright terror and suggestion, and it, too, had something to say about race relations. But this is where Candyman shines far brighter.
On an unrelated note, the film looks great. As an author and painter, I truly appreciate the artistic approach the film takes with its storytelling. The art featured throughout is bold, serving the aesthetic of the film, and the paper-dolls used to illustrate past events adds a richness and authenticity to the lore surrounding Candyman himself. Artful thought was even put into seemingly unrelated aspects of the film. From wardrobe, to interior design, to exterior design, emphasis is placed on creating a beautifully cohesive world that, instead of sitting juxtaposed to the grit of Cabrini-Green, somehow melds with it, ebbing and flowing in an authentic fashion that speaks to our roots as humans, and the messy pieces of our pasts we carry with us into our shiny, bright futures.
As the acting and characters go, I’ve got no gripes. Obviously, disposable characters are placed throughout, and while not everyone delivered stellar performances, our main characters are served well by talented actors and actresses. Yahya Abdul-Mateen ll (who plays our protagonist, Anthony McCoy) delivered a solid performance. He traversed the extremes of his role with care, adding a stoic silence to the climactic scenes. Teyonah Parris offered a strong performance as Tianna Cartwright. I appreciate the bold choices her character made. Vanessa Williams, who played our protagonist’s mother, won me over with a simple handwave and a shush. Jordan Peele has made a wonderful habit of allowing time and space for small gestures that add to the realism of a character and his or her plight. Be it the simple nod of a head, the wave of a hand, or the blink of tear-filled eyes, Peele offers these little nuggets of gold that pull the viewer in with such masterfully executed subtlety.
Without giving too much away, Candyman’s bread & butter lies in its intent. It means to tell a deeper story. It’s not necessarily here for the spooks and scares. Sure, those are always fun, and I would’ve adored this film had it delivered on all fronts, but the takeaway spoke far louder than any good scare. Candyman is about real life, brutally honest horror. The kind too many face in this country every day. Candyman is about a society stricken with such a hideously cyclic disease that it continues to reinfect itself while being blind to its perpetuation of its own illness. Candyman is the representation and reincarnation of every act of horror committed against the innocent, and how we’re constantly allowed an out—the ability to choose differently, for the sake of our brothers and sisters, and for our own sake, as a people. And yet… We perpetuate this illness without seeing that, in the end, it will only lead to our own demise, individually and societally.
If we were to extract the social commentary on race relations from the film, Candyman’s a bit sloppy with its elements of traditional horror, leaving something to be desired. But when delving into the film’s true intent, its depth and truth must be acknowledged, lest we continue to turn away from yet another mirror placed squarely in our path.
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