I mean, here you have this nosy-ass, white grad student (Virginia Madsen) showing up in the Chicago projects, investigating an urban legend about this Black, bee-covered boogeyman (Tony Todd) who apparently only kills other Black people. (In the \u201890s, Black-on-Black crime was even rampant in horror movies.) She summons the somabitch by saying his name five times in the mirror. Not only does he go on a rampage \u2014 ol\u2019 boy castrates kids! \u2014 Candyman (who now has a baby hostage) also wants the white girl to be his main squeeze. The movie ends with \u2014 spoiler alert! \u2014 both Candyman and the white girl dying in a bonfire, with the white girl eventually seen as a heroine for saving both the baby and the hood. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
All throughout this obviously-directed-by-a-white-guy spectacle, I kept yelling \u201cGet the entire<\/em> fuck outta here!\u201d in my head. Adapted from a Clive Barker short story and allegedly inspired by a horrific 1987 murder<\/a> that John Malkovich tried to make into a movie<\/a>, I found Candyman<\/em> to be that most hideous and insidious of scary movies: one that insulted my intelligence and<\/em> my race. I wasn\u2019t the only one who felt that way; filmmakers Reginald Hudlin and Carl Franklin made it known they were both offended by the flick\u2019s existence<\/a>. Even Madsen admitted, \u201cI don’t think Spike Lee will like this film.” (It also beget two dumb-ass sequels, where white women once again had to take down this big, bad negro.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n I should\u2019ve known something was up when former Obama impersonator-turned-Get Out<\/em> director Jordan Peele, a man who\u2019s made it his mission to tell racially-charged spooky stories on the big and small screen, decided to produce a Candyman<\/em> movie. I thought it was gonna be yet another redonkulous remake of an old slasher favorite. But it appears he and director Nia DaCosta (Little Woods<\/em>) have joined forces to \u2014 as they used to say at the beginning of every Quantum Leap<\/em> episode \u2014 put right what once went wrong. They basically turn the goofy gorefest into the racial-injustice parable it should\u2019ve been in the first damn place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally hitting theaters after several pandemic-halted release dates, this Candyman<\/em> returns to the Cabrini-Green area in Chicago where the original was mostly based \u2013 now a gentrified, hipster haven. That\u2019s where we meet artist Anthony McCoy (Aquaman<\/a><\/em> nemesis Yahya-Abdul Mateen II) and his art gallery-director girlfriend Brianna (Chi-Raq<\/em> hellraiser Teyonah Parris). Struggling to find something to paint next, he hears the story of the white girl who was burned alive. This gets him in investigative mode, taking pictures inside the area\u2019s boarded-up row houses and interviewing a laundromat owner (Zola<\/a><\/em> psycho pimp Colman Domingo) who tells him about a candyman he saw as a kid, a slow-witted, one-armed man who gave candy to kids and got murdered by the police.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not only does this dumbass do the whole say-his-name thing, slowly turning him into a possessed fella with decaying skin brought on by a bee sting, McCoy incites other (mainly white) stupidos<\/em> to do it when he turns the practice into a reflective art piece, ensuring that the Candyman will invisibly but certainly bring the pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Both Peele and DaCosta (who co-wrote the script with producer Win Rosenfeld) make a big, ambitious swing with this sequel\/reboot\/whatever, addressing the myriad issues \u2014 gentrification, police brutality, mental illness, plain ol\u2019 systemic racism \u2014 that are currently destroying Black folk more than a mythical serial killer ever could. They also use Domingo\u2019s character to sound off on the various, real-life Chicagoans of color who\u2019ve been cruelly victimized and\/or wiped out throughout history. He later insinuates that Candyman is more than a pissed-off, 19th-century artist who was murdered for loving a white girl. He\u2019s a swarming, sinister ball of vengeful, Black rage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course, Candyman 2.0<\/em> has a small batch of Easter eggs, in-jokes (it\u2019s definitely not a coincidence that the first white guy who gets it is named Clive) and cameos from returning characters. There are also brief bits of humor, mostly involving the superstitious, fight-or-flight behavior Black people exhibit whenever something strange is afoot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n DaCosta actually does something that the original didn\u2019t bother to do: make Chicago look like the fascinating land of architecture \u2014 particularly residential architecture \u2014it\u2019s always been. Working with Love, Simon<\/em> cinematographer John Gulserian, she comes up with interior shots (often in corridors and hallways) that are both foreboding and visually impressive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As I mentioned before, a lot is crammed in its 91-minute time frame, with some flaws \u2014 exposition-dump scenes, over-the-top supporting characters (wait until you met Brianna\u2019s gay brother!), a bonkers, let\u2019s-wrap-it-up-quickly finale \u2014 sticking out. It\u2019s still far more clever, engaging and \u2014 dare I say it \u2014 Blacker than the offensive original. In fact, this Candyman<\/em> reminded me more of J.D.\u2019s Revenge<\/em>, the hilariously entertaining, Blaxploitation thriller (and one of my late mother\u2019s favorite films) where Cooley High<\/em>\u2019s Glynn Turman is a law student possessed by a murdered 1940s gangster looking for vengeance. Until someone makes a long-overdue redo of that one, this will suffice. “Candyman” is in theaters Friday.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/candyman2-1024x616.jpg\")
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