Editorials
The Scariest Scene in Bernard Rose’s ‘Candyman’ Shatters a Horror Taboo [Scene Screams]
Scene Screams is a recurring column that spotlights the scenes in horror that make us scream, whether through fear, laughter, or tears. It examines the most memorable, and often scariest, scenes in horror and what it is about them that makes them get under our skin.
It takes about forty minutes into Bernard Rose‘s Candyman before the eponymous boogeyman, played by Tony Todd, makes his first physical appearance. Helen Lyle (Virginia Madsen) puts herself at risk in her determined pursuit of the Candyman legend to the point that it summons him, prompting him to take action to preserve his legacy of fear. The first confrontation between the pair takes place nearly halfway through the runtime, but Candyman’s looming presence from the very beginning ensures that wait is never felt.
In true urban legend style, the stories told about Candyman precede him in such a way that we’re terrified of this figure long before he arrives in the flesh. That includes the unnerving story told mere minutes before his arrival, culminating in the movie’s most unsettling scene.
Helen returns alone to Cabrini-Green to further interrogate Anne-Marie McCoy (Vanessa Estelle Williams) on the Candyman myth. Anne-Marie isn’t home, however. Instead, Helen finds young Jake (DeJuan Guy) sitting outside, who’s skeptical of the neighborhood outsider. After some gentle reassurances and promises, Helen convinces Jake to open up about prevalent Candyman fears. More specifically, he tells her a story about a grisly encounter that instilled his fears of Candyman.
Jake takes her to a public restroom and recounts a gruesome story that occurred there. He details a mother who sends her boy to that restroom while she shops in the store across the street. Shortly after, his piercing screams can be heard, and one brave man ventures inside to check on the boy. Seconds later, he runs back out; his hair instantly turned white from fear.
It’s here that the scene cuts from Jake’s solemn storytelling to the gruesome aftermath. The camera pans across a blood-splattered bathroom, a boy wailing on the floor for his mother while clutching his bloodied crotch, then to a toilet smeared and doused in more of his blood.
“They found ‘it’ floating in the toilet.”
The story prompts Helen to investigate the bathroom herself, its walls smeared in feces and that same toilet infested with bees. Rose gives no reprieve for her or the audience, and she’s punished for her curiosity first through a beating, then by summoning Candyman. But it’s Jake’s story that resonates the strongest.
It’s not Helen’s harrowing bathroom encounter that chills, but the implications of Jake’s story. Early in the film, at the beginning of Helen’s deep submersion in the origins of an urban legend, she explains Candyman’s believers to be “attributing the daily horror of their lives to a mythical figure.” Jake is a young boy living in a dangerous neighborhood. A neighborhood where Helen’s colleague Bernadette (Kasi Lemmons) is afraid to come near, citing gunshots that occur daily there. Yet Jake demonstrates deep-seated fear for Candyman, displayed with a maturity that implies his life experiences aged him at a more rapid rate than most children his age.
That’s exacerbated by the very adult story he tells- a child his age suffering most violently, his genitals severed by a hook. Not even the adults in this retelling could handle the sight.
This scene most effectively precedes Candyman’s arrival. More than the clueless and brazen babysitter from the opening sequence. Arguably more than the dinner scene in a restaurant where Candyman’s tragic backstory gets revealed.
It’s the scene that sees a child forced far too soon to confront death. The dread gets compounded in layers, first by Guy’s grave performance in this scene, then by the grotesque visuals of what transpired. Killing or maiming a child makes for one of horror’s biggest taboos, and Rose shatters it with a gut-wrenching scene.
It speaks volumes about the setting, and the power of Candyman’s legend.
Jake’s story hits home the message that no one can escape Candyman’s wrath, not even an innocent. This scene doesn’t just build Candyman’s terrifying presence, but it also foreshadows the kidnapping of baby Anthony while raising the stakes. If Candyman won’t hesitate to maim a child, what chance does a baby have?
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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