Candyman (1992)
Dir. Bernard Rose
Some folks believe that if you look into a mirror and speak aloud the Candyman's name five times he'll come for you. But he won't bring you candy and a smile. He'll cut you from groin to gullet with a vicious and bloody metal hook where his hand used to be.
The beautiful and determined Helen (Virginia Madsen) is doing a thesis on urban myth and legend. For her, the Candyman story is impossible to ignore, offering a ticket to peer acceptance and wider recognition.
Helen doesn't believe the stories. She allows her rational mind to override the instinctual fears that keep us safe from things that exist in the dark. That's her first mistake.
It certainly has gruesome moments, but if you're expecting a visceral and gory horror experience from beginning to end then you'll be disappointed. The film walks the viewer through more subtle avenues of unease, using the very thing we came for, a story, as part of its makeup.
Urban myths quite often hold a grain of truth within them, but more often than not they're reflections of a collective fear given form. Cementing them into an aural history gives them the ability to be passed on and kept alive from one generation to the next. In a way they're no different than fairy tales, except we tend to grow out of believing in fairy tales. (We think we do, but walk through a dark woodland alone at midnight and you'll find out if that's true or not.) The Candyman film exists within that same borderless realm, pushing the transformation from what's thought to what's spoken one step further: the spoken becomes real and fears can kill.
To communicate the power of story effectively you need an equally powerful device. The film uses a dangerously seductive mood to achieve it. The combination of style, lighting, timing and music aren't always perfect but they get it right enough times to keep me coming back for more. Plus, the notion that it's possible to exist without the pain of existing is an alluring one.
Without Tony Todd in the titular role it would be much less iconic. His aura and terrifying voice are what make the personified reflection of human fears so memorable. If you catch a glimpse of him then you know you're not just up Shit Creek, you're knee-deep in it.
The beautiful and determined Helen (Virginia Madsen) is doing a thesis on urban myth and legend. For her, the Candyman story is impossible to ignore, offering a ticket to peer acceptance and wider recognition.
Helen doesn't believe the stories. She allows her rational mind to override the instinctual fears that keep us safe from things that exist in the dark. That's her first mistake.
It certainly has gruesome moments, but if you're expecting a visceral and gory horror experience from beginning to end then you'll be disappointed. The film walks the viewer through more subtle avenues of unease, using the very thing we came for, a story, as part of its makeup.
Urban myths quite often hold a grain of truth within them, but more often than not they're reflections of a collective fear given form. Cementing them into an aural history gives them the ability to be passed on and kept alive from one generation to the next. In a way they're no different than fairy tales, except we tend to grow out of believing in fairy tales. (We think we do, but walk through a dark woodland alone at midnight and you'll find out if that's true or not.) The Candyman film exists within that same borderless realm, pushing the transformation from what's thought to what's spoken one step further: the spoken becomes real and fears can kill.
To communicate the power of story effectively you need an equally powerful device. The film uses a dangerously seductive mood to achieve it. The combination of style, lighting, timing and music aren't always perfect but they get it right enough times to keep me coming back for more. Plus, the notion that it's possible to exist without the pain of existing is an alluring one.
Without Tony Todd in the titular role it would be much less iconic. His aura and terrifying voice are what make the personified reflection of human fears so memorable. If you catch a glimpse of him then you know you're not just up Shit Creek, you're knee-deep in it.
Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh (1995)
Dir. Bill Condon
The justification for the sequel's existence from a storytelling perspective seems to be that it offers an explanation for the use of a mirror in the summoning of Candyman, and sheds illumination on his name.
The pompous prick from the first film returns. He's published a book on the subject and the events that occurred after Helen's digging. By doing so he not only keeps the Candyman myth alive but makes it more widespread.
Unfortunately, it commits one of the worst sins that a horror film can commit: it's boring. Even the reused score cues fail to give crucial scenes the special kind of aura they lack.
Candyman: Day of the Dead (1999)
Dir. Turi Meyer
Candyman wants a family reunion and he's killing anyone who stands in the way of his incestuous needs. Part of the foundation of the character's mythos, that he must be invoked or invited by his victim, is ignored. If that wasn't bad enough, he has a new hook (why?) and he can hover now.
The lead actress looks like she was pinched from a Baywatch casting couch and then dropped into a teen horror film without any lessons on how to scream believably. It's mostly just tits and blood.
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