Editorials
[We Love ’90s Horror] ‘Candyman’ is Arguably the Best ’90s Horror Film of Them All
The ‘90s often get a bad rap with horror fans. After the numerous successful slashers and creature effects films of ‘80s, the ‘90s offered a different variety of horror fare. Though there were plenty of hits, hidden gems, and misunderstood classics, the ‘90s usually don’t get the kind of love that other decades get when it comes to horror. It’s time to change that.
When considering which film to continue this new column with, there were two options: dig up some buried treasure or come out the gate swinging with a heavy hitter. In a way, Candyman fulfills both of those roles. For horror fans, this is an undeniable classic. However, it seems to have fallen by the wayside when it comes to more mainstream appreciation. And that’s a straight up crime.
Based on Clive Barker’s short story “The Forbidden”, Candyman tells the tale of a spectral killer with a hook for a hand who appears to anyone who says his name five times in a mirror. His legend is a powerful force that hangs over the Cabrini-Green housing project in Chicago. A young graduate student, Helen (a fairytale-like Virginia Madsen), is studying urban legends and decides to dig deeper into the history of Candyman.
The origin of this ghost is a tragic one; he was a well-educated African American who grew up during the post-Civil War era and found success as a portrait artist for wealthy socialites. When he fell in love with one of his subjects, they ended up having a baby together. When his lover’s father discovered this, a mob was sent to hunt down Candyman and kill him. They sawed off his hand and placed a hook in the stump. Then, they smeared honey on him and left him to be stung to death by bees. It’s a gruesome end that turns this murderous phantom into a completely sympathetic figure.
And that’s a vital part of what makes Candyman work so well. Played with captivating elegance by Tony Todd, Candyman is a figure that is both horrifying and heartbreaking. There is an emotional complexity to how we perceive Candyman, and that makes him just as interesting a character as Helen. Every time we see him or hear his voice, he is casting a sinister spell on us and drawing us deeper into his world of nightmares.
It’s also worth noting that Candyman is clearly exploring the horrors of urban living and how people in such communities attempt to cope with such dire living conditions. While the main creative voices behind the movie are white, there is a sensitivity and unflinching truth to the world of Cabrini-Green and its residents. Yes, it’s mined for horror, but this isn’t taken to levels of dismissive caricature or farce. It will be interesting to see Candyman released in a post-Get Out world, and see what kind of conversations it will spark.
Director Bernard Rose — whose underseen fantasy/horror film Paperhouse deserves way more digital ink — manages to stay away from drenching the film solely in racial commentary and strongly embraces a dreamlike tone that keeps the whole film feeling tense. While we never doubt the reality of what we’re experiencing, it’s eerily apparent that Helen and the audience are not in control. This is Candyman’s playground and we’re along for the ride. Rose emphasizes this with a number of disorienting camera angles and scene transitions that leave us feeling utterly disarmed. It’s deft filmmaking that doesn’t get the credit it deserves.
Another underappreciated element of the film is the haunting score by renowned composer Philip Glass. Truly, this might be some of the most slighted horror music in the entire genre. Glass utilizes an otherworldly chorus, organ, piano, and glockenspiel to evoke a feeling of dark divinity. It feels like a child’s horrifically distorted memory of what kind of music creeps out from a Gothic cathedral. Much like Jaws, Candyman is a great film that’s made truly excellent by its music.
The lengths that the film goes to in order to invoke terror and dread are equally effective. By the end of the film, a baby is threatened with immolation and we see the gory details of what’s inside Candyman’s iconic coat. And the final shocker of the movie is a knockout in both scare factor and narrative resolution. All of this is handled with such a level of polish and maturity that it might be one of the reasons the film hasn’t managed to maintain a significant presence with modern audiences and critics. Candyman isn’t a “fun” movie. It’s not trying to be. It wants to scare you and get under your skin. That makes for a wholly uncomfortable but totally effective experience.
There are plenty of contenders for Best Horror Film of the ‘90s — we’ll get to all the others — but for my money, Candyman is easily in contention for the top spot. It needs to be as heralded as any other beloved horror film, but it also needs to be recognized as a stunning achievement in cinematic storytelling and in creating one of the genre’s best boogeymen.
Editorials
‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel
The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.
The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.
Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.
With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).
It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.
The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.
The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.
Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.
Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
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