Candyman (2021): Sweet and Sour

Speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. Candyman will appear if you speak of him, too, but only if you look in a mirror and repeat his name five times. Anthony's no murderer. He makes modern art for a living, the type of art that older people see and scoff at while art teachers pretend it holds some significant meaning. What he doesn't do is sign the dotted line under the sign here to be haunted by a folklore killer section, and yet, that's precisely what happens when Anthony determines to open his own investigation into a series of unexplained murders attributed to this Candyman. The killer is a local legend in Chicago, like Bigfoot if he had a hook for a hand, a penchant for sweets, and an uncanny tolerance of bees. And now, he's changing Anthony. Anthony's art becomes darker, more tormented as his rabbit hole leads him closer to some gruesome answers that he may not even want to know. After all, some answers are better left unknown, just like some names are better left unspoken.

Some opening credits are better left unused, as well, because Candyman has a lot and I mean a lot of them. The camerawork playing in the background of these credits is dizzying and unusual, but as someone who never complains about opening credits like a CinemaSins fan would, it still happens to be too much in the case of Candyman. Neither are the pursuits of this film entirely waterproof. I'm all for a story trying to be controversial or forward-thinking, but I was left unimpressed by this movie's need to constantly remind me that it was released in 2021 at the height of the very short reign of cinematic political correctness. Its occasionally overt liberalism is both distracting and performative, and I'd have been a happier camper if its pursuits were anything more than mere lip service.

Still, the aftertaste of this movie is a satisfying one. The rules its killer is forced to play by are inspired, and while I understand perfectly that Candyman is a reboot, a man who murders you if you look in a mirror and recite his name five times remains an unusual premise. The visuals of this movie are also refreshingly grungy for a story set in the inner city, reminding me more of Ryan Coogler's Sinners than it does other hood films. The frame is dirty, clouded with personality that sets Candyman apart visually from other movies that may or may not be compared to it because of its visual distance from potential comparisons. Its method of dropping exposition with black cutouts against a white backdrop is also a bold artistic decision executed well, adding in some wonderful ways to this movie's emphasis on folklore. At its best, it really puts the urban in urban legend while meting out more than enough hook-handed carnage to keep you on your toes, even at its worst.

Cliches, hand hooks and all, Candyman is a solid reboot with some genuinely terrifying thrills, a handful of truly artistic moments, and a couple of bad habits that periodically took me out of the illusion in ways the movie could never completely brush aside. But aside from some periodically heavy-handed messaging, Candyman can be genuinely scary when it tries to be, enough to legitimately give me pause before saying his name into a real-world mirror five times. And while I understand that it's not an original movie, I wasn't aware that it was a reboot until I started watching it. Hence, the novelty of a ghostly killer who murders you if you look in a mirror and recite his name five times was not only new to me, but unusual in a general sense as well. Candyman summons up just enough thoughtfulness - more of it in some areas than others - and intelligently sheds just enough blood to keep its head above the water of mundanity. You know what? I'll say it. As far as reboots of classic franchises go, Candyman is perfectly acceptable.

Need I say his name four more times?

Candyman - 7/10

2 Peter 1:16-18