Nia DaCosta’s 2021 revival of the classic Candyman manages to unpack police brutality, gentrification, and economic inequality in a mere ninety-one minutes.
The story was first introduced to our screens in 1992, when Tony Todd starred as the vengeful man himself, with a hook for a hand and a swarm of deadly bees. Candyman is the violent ghost of Daniel Robitaille; a black artist from the 1800s that was brutally murdered by a mob after having an affair with a white girl. If you say his name five times whilst looking in the mirror, his spirit appears.
DaCosta’s version centres around Anthony Mccoy, an aspiring out-of-work artist. When he learns the tale of Candyman, it serves as artistic inspiration, and Anthony begins to investigate the urban legend. This, however, is when things take a turn for the worse. During the movie, we see Anthony dig up the hidden secrets of Cabrini’s past and in doing so reignite Candyman’s spirit.
Cleverly, DaCosta immediately presents the theme of economic inequality by addressing it in the setting alone. The film takes place in the gentrified Cabrini Green, Chicago. Previously labelled as ‘the ghetto’ and the home to a small community of low-income families, we are introduced to the new and improved Cabrini-Green at the very beginning of the film. The rundown housing complexes have been traded in for high rise apartments, and the old residents have been pushed to the outskirts. Indeed, the Cabrini-Green projects were paved over to make room for the sleek towers, and it seems the communities they held and the American economic apartheid they represented were buried with it.
The theme of story centres around the idea of saying Candyman’s name. DaCosta repeatedly employs the slogan ‘Say His Name’, that was commonly used to raise awareness about victims of police brutality and racial violence last year during BLMS resurgence. By having his victims ‘Say His Name’, DaCosta uses the myth as a tool for addressing performative activism. Sure, his victims call on him a few times, but they don’t expect to face him and are certainly not prepared to fight him. She suggests that simply keeping a memory alive is inadequate, it’s not enough to simply acknowledge racial demons. Too often, we tend to merely recognise racial injustices, but what do we do to actually confront them? Do we even want to tackle them? Candyman himself represents both the injustices faced black people and the repressed rage they’ve felt. It is particularly poignant for cinemas filled with 2021 audiences who have likely been very active on social media in the wake of George Floyds death. DaCosta directly asks the viewer what they have done, despite saying his name
The swarms of bees are also an innovative metaphor that must be mentioned. When Anthony is stung his wound starts to grow and rot until it consumes him whole. He morphs into a striking image of what racial violence does to a man and its capability to eat one up, ruining them from the inside.
Candyman is a brilliant film, riddled with metaphors and constantly addressing bigger issues, it is certainly worth a watch.
