candyman movie reviews 2021

Movie Reviews

Tv/streaming, collections, great movies, chaz's journal, contributors.

Now streaming on:

Director Nia DaCosta ’s “ Candyman ” is being sold as a “spiritual sequel” to the 1992 horror classic starring Virginia Madsen and Vanessa Williams . This iteration ignores the two actual sequels to writer/director Bernard Rose ’s adaptation of a Clive Barker short story, instead picking up in present day Chicago. The Cabrini Green where Madsen’s Helen Lyle character met her grisly fate is no more; the towers have been torn down and the area’s being gentrified within an inch of its life. Had Lyle survived, she’d probably be living in a place like that of artist Anthony McCoy ( Yahya Abdul-Mateen II ). “White people built the ghetto,” says his girlfriend, Brianna ( Teyonah Parris ) to her brother, Troy ( Nathan Stewart-Jarrett ), “and then erased it when they realized they built the ghetto.” This is not the last we’ll hear about gentrification.

It’s Troy who brings new viewers up to speed, spinning the first film’s tragic story for his captive audience after warning them that where they live is haunted. “This is too much, even for you,” says his husband, Grady ( Kyle Kaminsky ) about the part featuring the decapitated Rottweiler. This sequence is done with the same type of shadow puppets used for “Candyman”’s teaser trailer. That effective short highlighted one of the major themes DaCosta and her co-writers Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld put into their script: the endless cycle of violence perpetrated on Black bodies by White supremacy and the system it created. This idea was baked into the 1992 version’s tale of Daniel Robitaille ( Tony Todd ), the original Candyman, but the focus was primarily on the White protagonist’s fate.

With Abdul-Mateen and Parris as the leads, the filmmakers are free to dig deeper into the legend and its parallels to the here and now. Their proxy is William ( Colman Domingo ), an old-timer we first see as a child puppeteer in 1977. He meets Anthony just after the latter hilariously jumps into the shadows to avoid a passing cop car. “Are they keeping us safe,” William asks, “or keeping us in?” Alluding to the press Helen Lyle received while numerous Black victims of Candyman remain unknown, William says “one White woman dies and the story lives forever.” This dovetails nicely with the Candyman legend—here’s an entity whose immortality can only be realized by having his name (and by extension, the memory of his tragedy) spoken into existence. The mirror element, a holdover from the old Bloody Mary urban legend, is a nice touch rife with symbolism. What do the victims see of themselves reflected before they literally get the hook?

Despite his disbelief in Troy’s story, Anthony is inspired to look into the history of his neighborhood in the hopes it will inspire some new paintings he can show at a gallery run by Clive Privler ( Brian King ). William provides an additional Candyman story based on his childhood run-in with a strange local man with a hook for a hand. Like Daniel Robitaille, he was brutally murdered by a mob of what passes for the law, then posthumously “cleared” of the crimes he was accused of committing. “Candyman” proposes that its monster lives on, imprisoned in his agony because this particular history keeps repeating itself. I was reminded of Oprah’s line in “Beloved,” where she says of the spirit haunting her house that “it ain’t evil. Just sad.” “Candyman isn’t a he,” William tells Anthony before warning him to stay away, “he’s the whole damn hive.”

“Dare to say his name” is this film’s tagline, intentionally echoing the rallying cry of the current movement against undue and lethal law enforcement. Horror has always been a conduit for this type of allegory, tucking that which we’re not supposed to discuss underneath the viscera and the unreality. “Candyman” acknowledges that the real world can be even more dangerous and horrifying than the supernatural. So, every time a character utters “say his name,” it immediately conjures up the emotional pain of the intended coincidence.

A more physical pain, however, awaits anyone foolish enough to say a specific name five times in a mirror. There’s a running joke about people not wanting to tempt fate by testing the urban legend. Thankfully, there are plenty of folks who have no such restrictions. One unfortunate couple learns that testing out urban legends does not make for good foreplay. And it doesn’t go unnoticed that minority characters tend to bypass certain doom by not succumbing to certain horror tropes. Brianna’s response to the idea of going down a dark basement staircase provides the film’s biggest laugh.

“Candyman” caters to fans of the original without sacrificing its own vision and story. Virginia Madsen briefly cameos (though not onscreen), as does Vanessa Williams, both in their original roles. I wouldn’t dare spoil the reasons for the latter, but the revelation shows just how well this tale is constructed. The rest of the cast give fine performances, with Abdul-Mateen standing out in an often difficult role. The actors also convince us of their relationships in a short amount of time, and it’s not just the one between Anthony and Brianna. Kaminsky and Stewart-Jarrett create an equally strong connection between their characters in a few scenes. Troy’s bond with his sister feels comfortably lived-in with its playful ribbing and genuine concern.

Jordan Peele has become the master of balancing the hard truths of being Black and brown in this country with a devilish predilection for goosing the audience the way good horror movies do. You can almost imagine that it was his idea to begin the film with Sammy Davis, Jr.’s cover of “The Candy Man” playing over backwards versions of the Universal and MGM logos. DaCosta’s visual style is a willing accomplice, as is the absolutely disgusting sound mix. She stages the kill scenes with a mix of pitch-black humor, misdirection, and clever framing, fully acknowledging that what you don’t see—or think you saw—can be a lot worse than what you did see. One well-staged murder scene takes place in a very wide shot as the camera pulls away, giving us the view of someone escaping just as the carnage occurs. Toss in some profoundly gross body horror plus a satisfying ending that nicely closes out its thesis statement, and we have the makings of a fun, thought-provoking time at the movies.

Only in theaters on August 26th.

Odie Henderson

Odie "Odienator" Henderson has spent over 33 years working in Information Technology. He runs the blogs Big Media Vandalism and Tales of Odienary Madness. Read his answers to our Movie Love Questionnaire  here .

Now playing

Brian Tallerico

Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver

Simon abrams.

Disappear Completely

Art College 1994

Jeanne du Barry

Sheila o'malley, film credits.

Candyman (2021)

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Anthony McCoy

Teyonah Parris as Brianna Cartwright

Tony Todd as Candyman / Daniel Robitaille

Nathan Stewart-Jarrett as Troy Cartwright

Colman Domingo as William Burke

Vanessa Williams as Anne-Marie McCoy

• Nia DaCosta
• Jordan Peele
• Win Rosenfeld

Cinematographer

• John Guleserian
• Catrin Hedström
• Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe

Latest blog posts

Cannes 2024: Marcello Mio, Parthenope, Elementary

Fantastic Start to Fourth Season of Evil Maintains Creepy Quality

West Side Oratory: Judas and the Black Messiah

Cannes 2024 Video #4: Jason Gorber on Canada's Films

Advertisement

Supported by

Critic’s Pick

‘Candyman’ Review: Who Can Take a Sunrise, Sprinkle It With Blood?

The new take on the 1990s cult horror film returns the story to its old stomping ground, this time with Jordan Peele as a producer.

• Share full article

‘Candyman’ | Anatomy of a Scene

Nia dacosta narrates a haunting sequence from her film that uses shadow puppetry..

Hi, my name is Nia DaCosta, and I am the director of “Candyman.” “You guys want to hear a scary story?” “No.” “Too bad.” So, this scene is Troy and Brianna— they’re siblings— and Brianna’s boyfriend, Anthony— who is an artist— and Troy’s boyfriend. And they’re all together trying to have a nice dinner, but Troy insists on telling a ghost story about the neighborhood that Brianna and Anthony have just moved into. You see Yahya Abdul-Mateen II playing Anthony, Teyonah Parris playing Brianna, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett playing Troy, and Kyle Kaminsky playing Grady. [LAUGHTER] “This is a story about a woman named Helen Lyle. She was a grad student— a white grad student— doing her thesis on the urban legends of Cabrini Green. For research, she came down to Cabrini a few times. You know, asking questions, taking pictures of graffiti, people. And then one day she just snaps.” So, the shadow puppets came about when Jordan Peele, who’s the co-writer and producer on the film, he came to me and he was like, I think we should do shadow puppets instead of shooting actual flashback scenes. And I was super into it because I did not want to shoot flashback scenes, and I also didn’t want to cut in clips from the first movie. And so, we kind of made a decision, O.K., the flashbacks will be shadow puppetry. But then, as I was working with the shadow puppets and trying to figure out where they fit, it turned out they actually were just going to be much more useful. So that’s how they ended up in this scene. We wanted it to be very specific to the teller. So every shadow puppet scene has a very specific style and point of view because it is someone’s way of thinking about the story. It’s not necessarily the truth. “Helen arrives with a sacrificial offering.” [BABY CRYING] And that’s why we wanted to also create that separation between fact and fiction, real and fake. And that’s why you see the hands moving because it’s about these people creating a story— puppeteering the way we think about these people. And for Troy, because he’s trying to tell a scary story, he’s being very hyperbolic. He’s also saying things that didn’t happen. We made the style very jagged and scary and very much not the sympathetic character of Helen that we know and love from the original film. “Is my rosé still in the freezer?” “You don’t want the moscato? Moscato’s a dessert wine.” [CHUCKLES]

By Manohla Dargis

The first time Candyman, the hook-wielding ghoul, hit the big screen it was 1992 and he was making mincemeat out of people in Cabrini-Green, the troubled public housing development in Chicago. Since then, residents have left (or been moved out), and more than a dozen buildings have been razed . Forgettable sequels have come and gone, too, yet Candyman abides, cult film characters being a more enduring and certainly more prized commodity than affordable housing.

The original “Candyman,” written and directed by Bernard Rose, is more icky than scary, but it has real sting. It centers on the son of a formerly enslaved man — Tony Todd plays the title demon — who, once upon a time, was punished by racists for loving a white woman. Now he wanders about slicing and dicing those who summon him. Just look in a mirror and say his name five times (oh, go ahead), and wait for the blood to spurt. Among those who did back in the day was a white doctoral student who becomes a red-hot victim. The pain wasn’t exquisite, as Candyman promised, but it had its moments.

In the sharp, shivery redo directed by Nia DaCosta , Candyman seems on hiatus. The time is the present and the place is the bougie community that’s sprung up around Cabrini-Green. There, in sleek towers with designer kitchens and walls of windows, the gentrifying vanguard sips wine, enjoying the view. Beyond, the city sparkles prettily and its ills are at a safe distance (if not for long). The restless camera clocks the scene, and Sammy Davis Jr. — a Black civil rights touchstone turned Richard M. Nixon supporter — belts out his sticky 1970s hit “The Candy Man” (“Who can take tomorrow/dip it in a dream”). It’s a sly reminder, and warning, that the past always troubles the present.

Sometimes the past also bites the present right where it hurts, and before long the opening calm has been violently upended. As the blood begins to gush and the body count rises, the story takes shape, as does the somewhat tense domestic life of a painter, Anthony (a very good Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), and a curator, the pointedly named Brianna (Teyonah Parris). They soon learn that Candyman never left (well, he is a valuable franchise property). Enter the scares and shrieks and anxious laughs, and the dependably indispensable Colman Domingo , who pops up with a Cheshire cat grin. There are also flashing police lights that aren’t as welcoming as they might be elsewhere.

“Candyman” is the second feature from DaCosta, who made her debut with the modest drama “Little Woods.” She might have seemed a counterintuitive choice for this horror rethink, but while her first movie didn’t fully hold together, it was clear that she could direct actors and make meaning visually. She didn’t just clutter the frame with talking heads; she set (and exploited) moods and created an air of everyday, prickling unease, demonstrating a talent for the ineffable — for atmosphere — that she expands on here. It’s easy to shock viewers with splatter but the old gut-and-run gets awfully boring awfully fast. Far better is the slow creep, the horror that teases and then threatens.

The dread inexorably builds in “Candyman,” which snaps into focus after Anthony learns of the boogeyman. Intrigued, he seizes on the tale of a Black spirit who stalked the area’s disadvantaged residents as grist for his art, which could use a creative kick. DaCosta — who shares script credit with Win Rosenfeld and Jordan Peele, who’s also a producer — nicely fills in the texture, stakes and emotional temperature of Anthony’s milieu with its cozy domesticity, artistic frustrations, gnawing jealousies and crossover dreams. The banter is believable, as are the pinpricks of disquiet and the weird suppurating wounds that increasingly mar this otherwise ordinary scene and its genial hero.

It takes nothing away from DaCosta to note that “Candyman” is of an intellectual and political piece with Peele’s earlier work, including “ Get Out ” and “ Us .” Like those movies, “Candyman” uses the horror genre to explore race (Peele gets under the skin), including ideas about who gets to play the hero — and villain — and why. Peele isn’t interested only in what scares us; he’s also asking who, exactly, we mean when we say “us.” As a form, horror is preoccupied with the unknown and ostensibly monstrous, a fixation that manifests in visions of otherness. Much, of course, depends on your point of view. (The series’ genesis is Clive Barker’s “The Forbidden,” set in a presumptively British slum.)

DaCosta plays with perspective, shifting between Anthony’s and the intersecting, sometimes colliding worlds of more-successful artists, urban-legend propagators and, touchingly, profoundly scarred children. Throughout, she intersperses bits of shadow puppetry that work as a counterpoint to the main narrative, a reflexive device that emphasizes that “Candyman” is also fundamentally about storytelling. We tell some fictions to understand ourselves, to exist; others we tell to turn other human beings into monsters, to destroy. In “Candyman,” those who summon up this ghoul, thereby allowing him to tell his tale, first need to look at their reflections. When they do, they see innocence staring back at them — that, at least, is the story they tell themselves.

Candyman Rated R for horror-movie violence. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes. In theaters.

Manohla Dargis has been the co-chief film critic since 2004. She started writing about movies professionally in 1987 while earning her M.A. in cinema studies at New York University, and her work has been anthologized in several books. More about Manohla Dargis

Explore More in TV and Movies

Not sure what to watch next we can help..

“Megalopolis,” the first film from the director Francis Ford Coppola in 13 years, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. Here’s what to know .

Why is the “Planet of the Apes” franchise so gripping and effective? Because it doesn’t monkey around, our movie critic writes .

Luke Newton has been in the sexy Netflix hit “Bridgerton” from the start. But a new season will be his first as co-lead — or chief hunk .

There’s nothing normal about making a “Mad Max” movie, and Anya Taylor-Joy knew that  when she signed on to star in “Furiosa,” the newest film in George Miller’s action series.

If you are overwhelmed by the endless options, don’t despair — we put together the best offerings   on Netflix , Max , Disney+ , Amazon Prime  and Hulu  to make choosing your next binge a little easier.

Sign up for our Watching newsletter  to get recommendations on the best films and TV shows to stream and watch, delivered to your inbox.

‘Candyman’ Review: A Slasher Movie with a Sharper Social Edge Than the Original

Director Nia DaCosta deepens the 1992 cult slasher film by updating it to our own days of rage.

By Owen Gleiberman

Owen Gleiberman

Chief Film Critic

• ‘Ernest Cole: Lost and Found’ Review: Raoul Peck’s Documentary Rediscovers the Fearless Photographer of South African Apartheid 19 hours ago
• ‘Armand’ Review: An Accusation at a Primary School Results in a Drama So Convoluted It’s Claustrophobic 2 days ago
• ‘The Shrouds’ Review: David Cronenberg Makes a Movie About Grief — and Body Horror, and Digital Gravestones — That in Its Somber Way Verges on Self-Parody 3 days ago

“ Candyman ,” the 1992 slasher movie starring Tony Todd as a vengeful specter in a floor-length fur-lined coat, with a hook for a left hand and a devoted swarm of killer bees, was an urban-legend horror film that was ahead of its time but also, just maybe, a little too much of its time. Todd’s scowling ripper started off as an enslaved person’s son, Daniel Robitaille, who in the late 1800s was a successful artist. But then he had a relationship (and fathered a child) with a wealthy white ingenue whose portrait he’d been commissioned to paint. Her father hired a lynch mob to go after him. The mob tore off his hand and covered him in honey, and a swarm of bees stung him to death. Candyman is the violent ghost he became.

That’s a potentially incendiary premise, but in 1992, amid a swarm of boilerplate sequels featuring Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, and Jason Voorhees, each of whom came with his own sadomasochistic backstory, “Candyman,” directed by the English filmmaker Bernard Rose (and adapted from a Clive Barker short story), adhered a little too closely to the stylized tropes of the slasher film. The fact that Candyman would be summoned if you said his name five times played as the kind of storybook megaplex device (“One two, Freddy’s coming for you…” ) designed to prime the audience for shock cuts. The movie worked, but like too many slasher films of the time it was more sensational than haunting.

But now “Candyman” has been remade, by the director Nia DaCosta (I’m pleased to report that Tony Todd is back — he looks a little bit older, and a lot more venerable in his grin of unspeakable pain), and what she has done is to make a horror movie that has its share of enthralling shocks, but one that’s rooted in a richer meditation on the social terror of the Candyman fable. The new “Candyman” references the plot of the original as a sinister fanfare of shadow puppets, as if to say, “That was mythology. This is reality.” It’s less a “slasher film” than a drama with a slasher in the middle of it.

Popular on Variety

It stars Yahya Abdul-Mateen II , the actor who just about seared a hole in the screen as Bobby Seale in “The Trial of the Chicago 7,” and Abdul-Mateen gives as searching a performance as you’re likely to see in a movie that’s a voluptuous pageant of fear and gore. He plays Anthony McCoy, an aspiring artist who grew up in the Cabrini-Green housing projects of Chicago, which is where much of the original “Candyman” took place. He hasn’t just heard the legend; he was taken by Candyman as a child. And now, as he prepares a new set of work for a group show that’s being organized by his girlfriend, Brianna (Teyonah Parris), who works for Clive (Brian King), a hipster gallery owner who’s the person in the movie you most want to see die in a fancy way (the film does not disappoint), Anthony looks to the Candyman as an inspiration to leave aesthetic safety behind and create a work that’s daring enough to be true.

The art-world setting allows DaCosta, who co-wrote the film with Win Rosenfeld and Jordan Peele (who is one of the producers), to offer a deft satire of gentrification, with the Cabrini-Green projects paved over — and the knowledge of American economic apartheid they represent buried right along with them. At the gallery show, Anthony’s featured piece is a mirrored installation that, if you look closely enough, contains images of horror from the past; but if you don’t look closely, you’ll just see yourself. (That’s a great metaphor for liberal myopia.) The name of the piece is “Say My Name,” and that’s a disquieting joke — because, of course, it’s a Candyman reference that plays off the rhetorical fire of our own time, in a way that suggests that confronting racial demons isn’t as simple as “acknowledging” the crimes against Black people that have happened on a daily basis. The movie says: You can acknowledge the injustice — but what happens to the rage? “Candyman” presents the return of the repressed for an era that wants to pretend it’s no longer repressing things.

One reason this “Candyman” never feels like a formula slasher film, even during the murders, is that DaCosta stages them with a spurting operatic dread that evokes the grandiloquent sadism of mid-period De Palma. When four young women prepsters stand before the school bathroom mirror and say “Candyman” five times, it’s as if they’re acting out what they think is their privilege; their deaths come at us in a way that’s just oblique enough to get you to imagine the worst. And when a know-it-all art critic (Rebecca Spence) receives her own ghastly comeuppance, DaCosta shoots it from an elegant distance that heightens the horror.

Mad slashers in movies are technically villains, and then, if they hang around long enough (i.e., for enough sequels), they turn into ironic franchise heroes; they’re the icons you want to see. But the whole premise of “Candyman” is that Candyman, from the start, is a supremely un -mad slasher. He’s a walking historical corrective, throwing the violence of white America back in its face. It’s Anthony, the film’s hero, who turns into its most haunting figure. He gets stung by a bee, creating a wound on his hand that starts to grow and rot, spreading over his body, until by the end he’s become a shattering image of what racial violence looks like when it begins to eat you up from the inside. In “Candyman,” there’s plenty of horror, but none of it is as disturbing as the true-life horror that can make people feel like they’re ghosts of the past.

Reviewed at Bryant Park Screening Room, New York, August 18, 2021. MPAA Rating: R. Running time: 91 MIN.

• Production: A Universal Pictures, Metro Goldwyn Mayer Pictures release, in association with BRON Creative, of a Monkeypaw production. Producers: Ian Cooper, Win Rosenfeld, Jordan Peele. Executive producers: David Kern, Aaron Gilbert, Jason Cloth.
• Crew: Director: Nia DaCosta. Screenplay: Jordan Peele, Win Rosenfeld, Nia DaCosta. Camera: John Gulerserian. Editor: Catrin Hedström. Music: Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe.
• With: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Tayonah Parris, Tony Todd, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett, Colman Domingo, Brian King, Carl Clemons-Hopkins, Rebecca Spence, Kyle Kaminsky, Vanessa Estelle Williams.

More From Our Brands

Ticketmaster and live nation should be broken up, doj says in new lawsuit, meet stormy knight, the sleek new batmobile-style jet ski fit for a superhero, ufc’s $335 million antitrust settlement locks in reduced non-competes, the best loofahs and body scrubbers, according to dermatologists, beverly hills cop 4: eddie murphy’s axel foley is back on the beat in netflix’s new trailer — watch, verify it's you, please log in.

Candyman (2021) Review

27 Aug 2021

Candyman (2021)

The latest in a number of horror franchises that have received the ‘legacy-quel’ treatment — soft reboots that sweep aside what is viewed as messy and disposable canon (think David Gordon Green’s Halloween ) — Nia DaCosta ’s new take on Candyman directly continues the story of the original and most beloved entry in the series. The film revives Bernard Rose ’s 1992 cult horror, continuing its mythologising of buried, collective historical trauma in the form of its eponymous vengeful spirit, but also attempts to self-reflexively engage with the missteps of its predecessor. And where the original used gentrification and academia as a route into discussions of government-enforced social barriers, DaCosta builds upon how this has continued into the present day.

The film returns to a now-gentrified Cabrini Green, the location of the first film. Through a new art project, Anthony ( Yahya Abdul-Mateen II ) unwittingly unleashes the Candyman, who kills anyone who summons him by saying his name five times in a mirror. With her 2018 debut feature Little Woods , DaCosta has experience in navigating socio-economic boundaries and broken governmental systems with nuance. Candyman would seem a perfect continuation of her interests. It’s an interesting expansion on the character’s mythos, taking the stronger elements from its derided sequels — though anyone looking forward to seeing Tony Todd back in the role again might be disappointed. Where the first film used the spectre as a commentary on the demonisation of projects and council housing, DaCosta’s film is recalibrated as a response to the aftermath of such negligence, a reminder of who lived here before the fancy glass flats appeared. Further still, DaCosta, Get Out director Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld’s screenplay is also interesting in the ways in which it acts as a corrective to the messier parts of the ’92 Candyman that muddied its overall thesis, working to point the spirit’s vengeance and violence back towards his original oppressors. The original Candyman protagonist Helen’s role in the story is intentionally told through unreliable narrators, itself an urban legend in the context of this new film.

Nia DaCosta visually places the horror amongst the invasive architecture of gentrification.

This attempt to neaten up the meaning of its predecessor for a new audience is solid, but it then overcorrects, as every subsequent scene seems as though it contains a conversation detailing the revisionism. DaCosta’s film seems to pre-empt such critiques (amusingly, an obnoxious white art critic demeans Anthony’s work as didactic), but it doesn’t prevent the transformation of subtext into big, bold text that feels like a studio demanding some hand-holding. It feels like a similarly pre-emptive shield against misinterpretation, and it becomes stifling, not letting its performances do the work. Abdul-Mateen II and Colman Domingo , as a Cabrini Green resident still preaching the Candyman urban legend, are particularly magnetic, channelling deep sadness and rage like a spiritual possession, one that quite literally eats away at Anthony as his art and his engagement with historical traumas becomes an obsession. Teyonah Parris’ Brianna adds an intimate and personal connection to the film’s collective grieving, and its transformation into anger. Despite its lack of subtlety the scripting is frequently funny too, one highlight being a character wondering who would be fool enough to enact the catoptromancy that summons Candyman, before cutting to a group of white mean girls in a school bathroom.

It’s also visually compelling when it becomes less concerned with explaining itself. Cinematographer John Guleserian conjures discomfort from the sight of the shiny luxury apartments that have papered over the grime of the first film — the opening an unsettling mirror to the original Candyman ’s ominous overhead shots of high rises, turning them into otherworldly presences by shooting them from below and inverting the image. One of DaCosta’s finest touches is the intermittent shadow-plays recounting various urban myths, a nod to an oral tradition of storytelling that preserves the repeatedly decimated history of African Americans. While doing this, it reaches the existentially terrifying fatalism of its predecessor, in how it emphasises inevitable, continuing cycles of white supremacy and continuing inter-generational pain. Most presciently, for every story about Candyman, there’s one equally violent one about the Chicago PD that shortly follows it, their actions more unambiguously evil.

DaCosta visually places the horror amongst the invasive architecture of gentrification, the looming glass towers feeling as much of a threat as anything else in the film. One of the more memorable kills is portrayed in a long zoom out, dwarfing the victim in the window of their expensive apartment in a mixed-budget complex, the kind that Cabrini Green was replaced with. If the early stages of the film are too concerned with explaining the meaning of the Candyman himself, at least the consequences of his summoning are appropriately messy, both in the wince-inducing bloodshed and whom specifically it’s targeting, a collective vengeful anger unleashed on anyone who dares mention it in jest. It’s fun to see the spirit change from something stumbled upon to something summoned with purpose, in the genuinely pointed and provocative moments that conclude the film. It’s a shame, then, that just as it establishes a new identity, it’s done, its time cut short by its various stolid lectures.

Related Articles

Movies | 20 05 2024

Movies | 18 10 2022

Movies | 16 09 2021

Movies | 02 09 2021

Movies | 11 08 2021

Movies | 06 06 2021

Movies | 13 12 2020

Movies | 13 09 2020

Candyman Delivers a Masterclass in Social Horror & Own Voices Storytelling

2021's Candyman is a horror sequel that's done right and also delivers a powerful ode to the importance of Own Voices storytelling.

1993's  Candyman ,  in many ways, could be considered a creative touchstone for the modern era of Black horror. Films like the game-changing Get Out or Us  all have shades of  Candyman  in them. However, while that movie's monster is thoroughly grounded in racial horror, the film itself never fully realizes the potential of a monster borne of racism , of a victim-turned-force-of nature. Instead, it chose to pursue a sort of reincarnation-romance angle. However, 2021's  Candyman  fully makes good on the promise of the original, meeting the racial aspects of the character head-on, albeit not as neatly as it could have.

Candyman (2021) is directed by Nia DaCosta and written by herself, Jordan Peele, and Win Rosenfield. The movie follows Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) a young, Black artist who moves into a luxury apartment in Cabrini, Chicago, once the home of the infamous Cabrini Green projects, which were torn down a decade prior. Struggling to find inspiration for his work, Anthony turns to local legends of the so-called "Candyman" and soon finds himself tumbling headfirst into a rabbit hole of obsession and inter-generational trauma .

related:  Saying Candyman Five Times Into Your Microphone Can Summon a New Trailer

The way  Candyman (2021) presents its story is, in truth, a bit underwhelming. Make no mistake -- it's a genuinely good film, but its focus is often distracted with comedic asides, oddly-placed flashbacks, and an eagerness to broach real-world issues that divert its attention. This eagerness most clearly takes the form of a few frustrating encounters with art worlders -- artistic types who count and discount Black trauma as it benefits their aesthetics. While these are small pieces of the movie, they broach heavy topics and take up enough time that they derail Anthony's greater quest for Candyman. The film takes enough breaks from Anthony's journey that its potency is diluted.

In the original, Helen Lyle's descent into destruction is as inescapable for viewers as it is for her. She is the singular focus of the film. But Anthony's journey lacks time with Anthony and winds up feeling like a vehicle for broader discussions . And while that works,  Candyman (2021) just  misses the balance between personal journey and social commentary.

However, this eagerness to not just spark a conversation around racial injustice, but literally light a bonfire and compel us to it, is also what makes  Candyman (2021) successful. Horror franchises are infamous for ruining their monsters as they rack up installments, but  Candyman (2021) expands the lore in a simple way that's not just effective, but truly horrifying in how heartbreaking it is. It's difficult to discuss the film without revealing the twist, but it's an expansion to the mythos that's downright beautiful. It not only paves the way for a renewed  Candyman  franchise, one firmly set in Black hands, but it also comments on inter-generational trauma as a cultural  force, rather than hereditary.

related:  Candyman: 5 Things to Know Before You See the Film

The film also centers Black rage in this commentary, something even the original shied away from. Black rage has long been turned against us by non-Black people, the fear of it used as an excuse to hold us down, the optics of it used to shame us into shutting up.  Candyman (2021) takes a different tack. Its re-working of Candyman posits the rage of a people as something to be feared, but largely because it  should not exist.  We should have no reason to be this angry. We should have no need for a Candyman. There should be no Candyman.

He is an aberration , something bigger than its cause -- and the people responsible for his creation are not as safe as they think they are. The new Candyman is downright eldritch, but he also signifies the power Black people have when they look back on history -- even recent history -- and decide, in the here and now, enough is enough. It's a power we've used before, and one we will have to use again. But, much like Candyman himself, its effectiveness has and always will depend on where we point our anger.

Candyman (2021) has big ideas and a lot to say. That alone makes it worth a watch. The film's official website also has a variety of resources for those eager to learn more about racial injustice and atrocities directed at Black people, including what has happened, what is happening, and how to contribute to change. Tell everyone.

keep reading:  8 New Horror Movies and TV Shows to Watch in August 2021

Flickering Myth

Geek Culture | Movies, TV, Comic Books & Video Games

Movie Review – Candyman (2021)

August 25, 2021 by Robert Kojder

Candyman . 2021

Directed by Nia DaCosta Starring Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Teyonah Parris, Tony Todd, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett, Colman Domingo, Vanessa Williams, Cassie Kramer, Rebecca Spence, Kyle Kaminsky, Carl Clemons-Hopkins, Cedric Mays, Christiana Clark, Brian King, Pamela Jones, Miriam Moss, Mark Montgomery, Genesis Denise Hale, Rodney L Jones III, Hannah Love Jones, Heidi Grace Engerman, and Virginia Madsen

Anthony and his partner move into a loft in the now gentrified Cabrini. After a chance encounter with an old-timer exposes Anthony to the true story behind Candyman, he unknowingly opens a door to a complex past that unravels his own sanity and unleashes a terrifying wave of violence.

Touted as a spiritual successor to the original Candyman , Nia DaCosta’s nearly 30 years later sequel is much more connected to those events than one might be led to believe, but disarmingly, the film doesn’t open up in modern-day or 1992 Chicago, instead the 1970s look of the Cabrini Green housing complex. By doing so, it’s a reminder that the story we have come to know (as far as I know, the other sequels are largely ignored when it comes to the narrative here) is only a blip when it comes to the legend of his killings.

A young boy enters a bathroom where soon after, the one-handed hook-wielding slasher emerges from the hole offering candy. The boy shrieks out in terror, naturally freaked out, but is not attached or touched. He takes the treats and, free to go, retreats up the stairwell. However, it’s too late; the local police force (comprised of white people perpetually playing extra attention to a place like Cabrini Green) storm the building, don’t ask any questions even as they are grabbing the boy they presume to be in danger, and well, I’m guessing you already know what happens next based on the way this is going. Despite the similar appearance, the man is not Daniel Robitaille (the Candyman legend unearthed by Virginia Madsen’s college grad student Helen Lyle in the first film), but someone law enforcement believes to be planting razor blades inside of the wrappers. The razor blade killings don’t stop, implying that the police brutally murdered an innocent man.

The premise of Nia DaCosta’s vision (co-written alongside Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld, obviously taking inspiration from Bernard Rose’s terrific 1992 work based on a short story from Clive Barker and repurposed to focus on race relations and class in Chicago) is that there’s not just one Candyman. Perhaps even more tragically true, there will always be a Candyman as long as crimes against Black humanity are committed and go unchecked. Candyman is not just a person; it’s an idea tethered to the first time a young Black child discovers volatile hate crimes.

Our protagonist also happens to have his own experiences with the Candyman that he was too newborn to remember (it’s a move that feels as if it’s meant to be a significant plot reveal for anyone that hasn’t seen the original, so I won’t say too much about it, although there is so much going on here thematically that it doesn’t take away from the narrative at all possessing knowledge of his identity), artist Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II turning in a remarkable performance of compulsive obsession the more he digs into the legend, with both remote research and visiting the remnants of the area). Anthony is currently dating art director Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris, not given as much to do, which is strange given some have flashbacks she receives, indicating that there may be a great deal left on the cutting room floor). One night, they meet her brother Troy’s (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) new white boyfriend Grady (Kyle Kaminsky), with the former opting to tell a scary story following some gentrification discussion.

The story is not about Candyman, but Helen Lyle now talked about as a white woman who went crazy researching Cabrini Green urban legends (accomplished with stylistic black-and-white puppet animation alongside unsettling music from Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe). Just about every vital detail you think of from that movie has been twisted and turned on its head in the story recounted here, essentially talking about her as a lunatic that wanted to burn a baby alive. It pique’s Anthony’s interest, coming into contact with an older man named William Burke (Colman Domingo), that has information to share tied to Candyman. All of this proves to be an artistic inspiration for Anthony. He starts creating blunt and literal portraits of violence with instructions to stare into a mirror and “say his name” five times, which ends up on display in an upcoming gallery with hot-shot critics in attendance.

From here, the script trails off into multiple fascinating directions with Anthony disturbingly flattered that his own name was mentioned on television upon the discovery of sliced up bodies the following day in front of the exhibit (these sequences are also visually exhilarating making use of neon lighting, mirrors, and reflections to make out the violence). One could say he is becoming a Candyman in his own right, especially considering there’s a bee sting infection spreading in radius similarly the more detached from reality and obsessed with the legend he becomes. Effectively creepy, there are also moments where Anthony catches a glimpse of himself inside a reflection depicted as something monstrous and evil, with Yahya Abdul-Mateen II aptly expressing the duality that Jordan Peele went for with Us .

As both Anthony and his art become more dangerous (the outreach of the exhibit reaches some idiotic preppy teenagers making for a gruesome segment showing that the filmmakers that, while exploring high concept button-pushing issues, are still interested in letting the blood flow for entertainment purposes), there is an exploration of his identity, the cost of his success, a more comprehensive look at the Candyman legacy, and a third act eruption of violence that is sure to go down as one of the year’s best endings (even if there’s a small moment right before the carnage that stretches believability).

At a quick 90 minutes, there are admittedly moments where Candyman could be expanded upon (for as powerful as the film is in terms of themes, some characters are left a bit lacking and broad). It hits its provocative ideas one after the other, sure to spark dialogues surrounding the bloodshed. Some may not want to hear those topics brought up, and Nia DaCosta seems to have retort right inside the film when one character says, “they love our art, but they hate us.” It’s an observation that stings and swells just like one of the bees here, knowing full well people will decry the movie as allegedly having an agenda for exploring current events (even though its predecessor also did). What matters is that, while Candyman isn’t perfect, or dare I say as tight as a joint directed by Jordan Peele, there’s still plenty to love about this piece of art and its creators.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check  here  for new reviews, follow my  Twitter  or  Letterboxd , or email me at [email protected]

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:

The Best Love Triangle Movies To Watch After Challengers

The Kings of Cool

Underrated Movies from the Masters of Action Cinema

10 Essential Films From 1984

The Most Overlooked Horror Movies of the 1990s

Hellboy: Guillermo del Toro’s Occult Superhero Fantasy at 20

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective – The zany Jim Carrey comedy at 30

The Contemporary Queens of Action Cinema

Characters Appearances We Want To See In Marvel Studios’ Fantastic Four Movie

The 1990s in Comic Book Movies

• Comic Books
• Video Games
• Toys & Collectibles
• Articles and Opinions
• About Flickering Myth
• Write for Flickering Myth
• Advertise on Flickering Myth
• Terms of Use
• Privacy Policy

• Newsletters
• Account Activating this button will toggle the display of additional content Account Sign out

Candyman  Reclaims the Story From Its White Storytellers, With Mixed Results

This modern-day telling brings the slash-a-thon into a more progressive era..

The urban legend of the Candyman, a murderous ghost with a hook for a hand and old scores to settle, stems from a 1985 short story, “The Forbidden,” by the English horror writer and filmmaker Clive Barker. In that telling, a student doing field work in a poor housing estate unintentionally summons the vengeful spirit by interrogating locals about their old stories. The 1992 film adaptation, directed by Bernard Rose, moved the action from the slums of Liverpool to the Cabrini-Green housing project in Chicago and cast a Black actor, Tony Todd, as a velvet-voiced revenant in a floor-length shearling coat. And unlike Barker’s Candyman, who was given no name, race, or backstory, Todd’s Daniel Robitaille was the ghost of a specific man: the son of slaves who was murdered by a lynch mob after he fell in love with and impregnated a white woman whose portrait he’d been hired to paint.

Introducing racial violence and historical trauma into a slasher pic was an unusually bold move in 1992, which is part of why Rose’s Candyman became an important landmark in the cult horror canon, even though now it reads as the opposite of progressive in its racial and sexual politics. In 2021, though, it’s rare that a genre pic doesn’t attempt to allegorize contemporary social problems. Which leads us to the new, modern-day version of Candyman, directed by Nia DaCosta and cowritten by Da Costa and producers Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld. This Candyman positions itself as a “spiritual sequel” to the 1992 film (while politely ignoring the two subpar sequels, also starring Todd). It is also, in its way, an attempt on the filmmaker’s behalf to take the story of Daniel Robitaille, a descendant of slaves, back from its original white storytellers.  Where the first Candyman centered around a white female protagonist and was directed by a white man, this version is not only directed and cowritten by a Black woman but also takes place in a largely Black world, with the white characters serving mostly as devices to drive the plot—and as fodder for some artfully filmed and spectacularly gory kills.

After an enigmatic prologue set in the Cabrini-Green houses in 1977, we jump to the present day, where painter Anthony (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and his art-curator girlfriend Brianna (Teyonah Parris) live together in a luxury high-rise built on land that was formerly part of the projects. The fact that this ambitious young couple belongs to the same gentrifying class that Anthony’s work aims to critique is not lost on Brianna’s younger brother Troy (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett). Visiting their posh new apartment with his boyfriend, Troy lovingly skewers his sister and her boyfriend for their bougie lifestyle, before telling them a spooky story about a real-life tragedy that took place at the houses years before—essentially, he recaps the plot of the 1992 movie. This storytelling scene, like several more to come, makes use of a shadow-puppet technique that recalls the black-on-white, cut-paper silhouettes of the artist Kara Walker. Created by the Chicago-based design studio Manual Cinema, the delicate figures, operated by a hand whose shadow remains visible, are hauntingly expressive; stay through the end credits for a tour-de-force shadow-puppet play that condenses generations of suffering into a few painful vignettes.

The movie built around these puppetry scenes is equally stylish, if sometimes less substantial. DaCosta’s filmmaking makes frequent and deliberate reference to cinematic history, with many Kubrick-like compositions of oppressive symmetry, a few gnarly body-horror shots reminiscent of Cronenberg’s The Fly , and a climactic chase through a dark tunnel that recalls the finale of The Silence of the Lambs . There is a clever and sometimes stunning deployment of mirrors as the surfaces through which both the audience and characters are able to access an alternate reality, or maybe just look past the artifices of daily life to see the gruesome reality that was always there. When he looks in a mirror—the place where, according to legend, the Candyman will appear if you say his name five times—Anthony sometimes sees the hook-handed figure looking back at him, played once again by the still-frightening, even more poignant Todd. Several murders are seen only in mirrored reflections, most memorably a bloodbath in a public bathroom that’s glimpsed in the tiny round mirror of a teenage girl’s makeup compact.

The first hour of Candyman does a bang-up job of mixing such audience-teasing popcorn thrills with trenchant, if sometimes too flatly stated, social critique. But by the last half-hour, there are so many themes, plotlines, and flashbacks in play that the movie’s message becomes muddled, and the forward momentum slows. Anthony grows obsessed with the Candyman legend, visits the remaining structures on the Cabrini-Green site, and meets a middle-aged laundromat operator named Burke (Colman Domingo) with chilling stories to tell. Anthony also, it’s implied, makes a kind of Faustian bargain with whatever evil force the Candyman represents: When he creates and exhibits an art piece that encourages viewers to summon the mirror-dwelling killer, his place in the art world almost immediately begins to rise. Brianna gets her own tragic backstory, communicated in one too-brief flashback, and Vanessa Williams, reprising her role from the 1992 movie, makes a single-scene appearance as Anthony’s troubled mother.

Get Slate in Your Inbox

Thanks for signing up! You can manage your newsletter subscriptions at any time.

By the time Brianna, a disturbingly transformed Anthony, an ever more jittery Burke, and the ghostly Candyman have their final confrontation at an abandoned church, it is no longer clear who stands for what or what anyone’s motivations are. The Candyman, formerly an embodiment of the historical suffering of Black people at the hands of white supremacists, suddenly appears to be a standard-issue slasher villain chasing down a “final girl,” who is herself Black, while Abdul-Mateen’s Anthony is uneasily suspended between zombie-like victimhood and righteous moral agency. Todd, Parris, Domingo, and Abdul-Mateen are all gifted and charismatic performers that, in the earlier scenes, bring complex shadings to their neither all-good nor all-bad characters. But by the time the movie reaches its extended, free-form slash-a-thon finale, even its compact 90-minute running time starts to feel a little slack.

DaCosta will next direct the superhero installment The Marvels , which also co-stars Teyonah Parris. Candyman —only DaCosta’s second movie, after the taut 2018 social-realist indie Little Woods —sometimes fails to trust its audience’s intelligence enough to let us make our own connections between the atrocities of the past and the barely suppressed violence of the present. But it does amply display that this young filmmaker has style and promise to burn.

Screen Rant

Candyman review: unnerving 2021 horror sequel stands apart from original.

Your changes have been saved

Email Is sent

Please verify your email address.

You’ve reached your account maximum for followed topics.

All 7 Actors Who’ve Played Mad Max

Sam elliott’s return to 35-year-old action franchise seems way more likely after confirmed sequel to $85m hit, this 2024 horror movie is a very good sign for reboot of $403m franchise coming next year.

The horror genre, when utilized to its full potential, can be used to explore a variety of themes. 1992’s Candyman did that with regards to Chicago’s class divide and racism. Rather than turning the 2021 film of the same name — delayed from a 2020 release due to the pandemic — into a remake, Nia DaCosta’s Candyman , which she directed and co-wrote alongside Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld, advances the story in a sequel that peels back the layers of the first film’s themes even further. From a visual perspective, Candyman is beautifully shot, with the use of mirrors and lighting atmospheric, masterfully aiding the storytelling while playing up the unease and horror. While introducing a few arcs it doesn’t fully explore, Candyman is replete with haunting imagery, disconcerting horror, and thought-provoking themes. 

Candyman begins in Cabrini Green’s housing project in Chicago. It’s 1977 and the cops are looking for a man, Sherman Fields (Michael Hargrove), they believe has been putting razor blades inside candy. What happens to him affects the rest of the film and the mythology of the Candyman, a supernatural being who kills people when called upon five times while looking in the mirror. Fast forward to 2019 Chicago: art curator Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris) and her artist boyfriend Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) are living in an upscale high-rise apartment. They discuss gentrification while also feeling some guilt for living a luxurious life, surrounded by the remnants of Cabrini Green’s now abandoned housing. When he hears the story of Helen Lyle, the protagonist of the first film, Anthony goes in search of Cabrini Green’s past (much of which is framed by Colman Domingo’s William Burke), the racist history of the area, and the legend of the Candyman, who returns with a vengeance after being summoned.  

Related:  Candyman Video Discusses the Origin of Tony Todd’s Character

DaCosta’s use of mirrors and other reflective surfaces is thrilling, with the director taking every opportunity to showcase reflections, sometimes as shadows, and the eeriness of Anthony’s past literally staring back, asking him to contend with it. Reflections are also used to examine the characters and work to elevate the blood and violence shed. Many of Candyman’s attacks happen just outside of one’s peripheral vision and, as the audience waits with bated breath for him to strike, the nail-biting anticipation of when (and sometimes if) it will happen heightens the tension and horror of every scene. Since the film itself is a sequel to the events that occurred in the first film, the big reveal nearer to the end doesn’t land with as much of a punch, but Abdul-Mateen II conveys the emotional shock of it all so well that it lingers regardless. The use of shadow art during the recounting of various stories throughout is also exceptional and adds to the unsettling tragedies. Here, the Candyman’s violence is an act of revenge, a mythologized entity who comes to life in defense of his community. 

Candyman spotlights and questions art — who gets to make it, who benefits from it, and how the understanding of Black art by white critics, in particular, can be lost in translation because of the expectations by the latter of the former to deliver specific kinds of work they would perceive as “good” art. As an artist, Anthony leans into painful images, including a piece depicting hanging nooses, and is celebrated. When he does something unexpected and different, his work becomes a cliché in the eyes of art critic Finley Stephens (Rebecca Spence). That is, until the violent deaths start happening and her interest in his work (and its connections to the killings) are rejuvenated. To that end, the film comments on the many works of art that are upheld for weaponizing and exploiting Black trauma; it’s only then that many pop culture critics and awards organizations celebrate it, even when it doesn’t have anything to say. The idea that Anthony can’t be unboxed from the ways in which the upper echelons of the art world see his work is hindering, and the film thoughtfully dissects the layers of what that means. It’s one of the most intriguing aspects of the story, especially in how it relates back to Candyman, racial injustices and how it might factor into one’s work. Candyman also uses art to reflect the feelings of being an outsider, with the film’s visuals often being more effective and evocative than the dialogue itself. 

Perhaps one of the primary issues with the film, however, is that it introduces several stories, but only delivers on some of them. To that end, Brianna’s story is less developed, with a flashback introducing the audience to her own childhood trauma, something that affects her and her line of work in the present. But Candyman doesn’t seem interested in delving further, offering only glimpses of her past without any additional exploration. It also happens too late in the story for it to have a full-fledged impact on the film’s events. The film grapples with several themes, some of which remain at the surface as it attempts to juggle more than can be handled in an hour and a half. It’s a continuation of the story first introduced in 1992’s Candyman and, while it certainly does stand on its own, the film sometimes falters in its bid to reflect on the past while simultaneously focusing on the present. 

That said, viewers who enjoyed the original Candyman will find much to enjoy about DaCosta’s sequel. The film’s strengths lie in its extraordinary visual palette, with the director's use of art, reflections, and shadow elevating the story’s many themes, leaving the audience with much to think about and dissect afterward. Even though not all of its storylines get their due by the end, Candyman is haunting and visually striking, providing depth while advancing the story that began decades ago. 

Next:  Candyman Cast & Crew Will Never Say His Name 5 Times In The Mirror

Candyman releases in theaters on August 27, 2021. The film is 91 minutes long and is rated R for bloody horror violence and language including some sexual references.

Key Release Dates

Our rating:.

• Movie Reviews
• 3.5 star movies

Common Sense Media

Movie & TV reviews for parents

• For Parents
• For Educators
• Our Work and Impact

Or browse by category:

• Get the app
• Movie Reviews
• Best Movie Lists
• Best Movies on Netflix, Disney+, and More

Common Sense Selections for Movies

50 Modern Movies All Kids Should Watch Before They're 12

• Best TV Lists
• Best TV Shows on Netflix, Disney+, and More
• Common Sense Selections for TV
• Video Reviews of TV Shows

Best Kids' Shows on Disney+

Best Kids' TV Shows on Netflix

• Book Reviews
• Best Book Lists
• Common Sense Selections for Books

8 Tips for Getting Kids Hooked on Books

50 Books All Kids Should Read Before They're 12

• Game Reviews
• Best Game Lists

Common Sense Selections for Games

• Video Reviews of Games

Nintendo Switch Games for Family Fun

• Podcast Reviews
• Best Podcast Lists

Common Sense Selections for Podcasts

Parents' Guide to Podcasts

• App Reviews
• Best App Lists

Social Networking for Teens

Gun-Free Action Game Apps

Reviews for AI Apps and Tools

• YouTube Channel Reviews
• YouTube Kids Channels by Topic

Parents' Ultimate Guide to YouTube Kids

YouTube Kids Channels for Gamers

• Preschoolers (2-4)
• Little Kids (5-7)
• Big Kids (8-9)
• Pre-Teens (10-12)
• Teens (13+)
• Screen Time
• Social Media
• Online Safety
• Identity and Community

Real-Life Heroes on YouTube for Tweens and Teens

• Family Tech Planners
• Digital Skills
• All Articles
• Latino Culture
• Black Voices
• Asian Stories
• Native Narratives
• LGBTQ+ Pride
• Best of Diverse Representation List

Celebrating Black History Month

Movies and TV Shows with Arab Leads

Celebrate Hip-Hop's 50th Anniversary

Common sense media reviewers.

Update on classic horror tale is both scary and important.

A Lot or a Little?

What you will—and won't—find in this movie.

It may take more than one viewing to grasp all the

Some characters have achieved success, but no one

Positive representation of Black characters, showi

Lots of blood and gore. Characters sliced up with

A couple kiss and cuddle affectionately. Shirtless

Frequent strong language includes "f--k," "s--t,"

Mentions of Zillow, Whole Foods.

Adults drink wine socially, at dinner. Drinking be

Parents need to know that Candyman is a follow-up (but not a reboot or a direct sequel) to the 1992 movie, which was based on Clive Barker's short story. Directed by Nia DaCosta and co-written and co-produced by Jordan Peele, the movie takes a progressive approach to themes raised in the original -- including…

Positive Messages

It may take more than one viewing to grasp all themes raised, from gentrification to artistic appropriation, as well as concept of continuing to tell stories to keep discourse alive. Art (and movies) are extremely powerful, can be easily corrupted, the movie seems to be saying -- but keep "telling everyone."

Positive Role Models

Some characters have achieved success, but no one is a clear role model. Most fall victim to supernatural events around them in one way or another.

Diverse Representations

Positive representation of Black characters, showing both successes and trials. Characters are realistic and three-dimensional. Supporting cast includes a loving, mixed-race LGBTQ+ couple. A White art critic tries to tell Anthony's story and define his art through her own experiences, which is clearly meant to be problematic.

Did we miss something on diversity? Suggest an update.

Violence & Scariness

Lots of blood and gore. Characters sliced up with a hook, killed. Throat slashed. Blood spurts, pools of blood. Bloody carnage. Broken limbs. Strangling. Stabbing. Shooting. Gross hand wound spreading up arm, picking at icky scab, fingernail rotting, peeling off. Child witnesses her father dying via suicide, jumping from high window. Hand sawed off, hook jammed into bloody stump. Finger sliced by razor blade. Arguing. Character smashes mirrors. Broken mirror shards in hand. Scary stuff. Jump scares.

Did you know you can flag iffy content? Adjust limits for Violence & Scariness in your kid's entertainment guide.

Sex, Romance & Nudity

A couple kiss and cuddle affectionately. Shirtless male. Passionate kissing/foreplay. Strong sex-related dialogue.

Did you know you can flag iffy content? Adjust limits for Sex, Romance & Nudity in your kid's entertainment guide.

Frequent strong language includes "f--k," "s--t," "motherf----r," "bulls---," "a--hole," the "N" word," "ass," "bitch," and "d--k," and "Jesus" as an exclamation.

Did you know you can flag iffy content? Adjust limits for Language in your kid's entertainment guide.

Products & Purchases

Drinking, drugs & smoking.

Adults drink wine socially, at dinner. Drinking beer at gallery opening. Brief pot smoking. Character briefly drinks alone.

Did you know you can flag iffy content? Adjust limits for Drinking, Drugs & Smoking in your kid's entertainment guide.

Parents Need to Know

Parents need to know that Candyman is a follow-up (but not a reboot or a direct sequel) to the 1992 movie , which was based on Clive Barker's short story. Directed by Nia DaCosta and co-written and co-produced by Jordan Peele , the movie takes a progressive approach to themes raised in the original -- including the power of art and storytelling -- and it's both scary and thought-provoking. It has tons of blood and gore, with several killings. Expect to see stabbing, strangling, shooting, throat slashing, broken limbs, jump scares, a gross hand wound creeping up to the rest of the body, a child watching her father die via suicide (jumping from a high window), and more. There's kissing (both affectionate and passionate), cuddling, and interrupted foreplay; a man is shown without his shirt on. Language is very strong, with uses of "f--k," "s--t," the "N" word, and more. Adults drink socially and smoke pot. To stay in the loop on more movies like this, you can sign up for weekly Family Movie Night emails .

Where to Watch

Videos and photos.

Community Reviews

• Parents say (7)
• Kids say (9)

Based on 7 parent reviews

What's the Story?

In CANDYMAN, Anthony McCoy ( Yahya Abdul-Mateen II ) is an up-and-coming artist who's living with Brianna Cartwright ( Teyonah Parris ), an art curator. At dinner one night, Brianna's brother, Troy ( Nathan Stewart-Jarrett ), tells the story of Candyman, who terrorized the nearby Cabrini Green housing projects years ago. Inspired, Anthony looks into the story further, hoping to create a new series of artworks. Then Anthony meets William Burke ( Colman Domingo ), who grew up in Cabrini Green and had an encounter with the actual Candyman, and learns more. Unfortunately, as Anthony's art is shown to the world, the Candyman legend is reawakened, with horrific results.

Is It Any Good?

Neither a reboot nor a direct sequel, Nia DaCosta 's horror movie responds to elements from the 1992 cult classic and moves forward into the Black Lives Matter era, with chilling, brilliant results. Following up on the promise of her powerful debut Little Woods , DaCosta's Candyman -- with help from co-writer and co-producer Jordan Peele -- follows a bracingly logical path through Clive Barker's original 1985 short story and Bernard Rose's 1992 movie, taking the urban setting and the Black monster (played here, as in three other movies, by Tony Todd ) and examining them further. With swift strokes, like an artist passionately wielding a paintbrush, DaCosta touches on gentrification, artistic appropriation, and artistic objectivity in fascinating ways.

Using silhouette puppets to illustrate flashbacks and a musical score that echoes Philip Glass's 1992 recordings, the movie asks: Are these artists actual creators, or are they merely repeating history? How does location play into the identities of Black residents, especially when that location was designed and built by White people? Can Black people reclaim their own stories? In one striking subplot, a White art critic tries to tell Anthony's story and define his art through her own experiences. Yet in the midst of these and other timely discourses, Candyman manages to be a brutal and powerful horror tale (right from the start, with its mirror-image studio logos), perhaps even surpassing whatever Barker's original story, or any other adaptation, has ever intended or achieved. A final cry to keep telling stories -- rather than burying them, as in the Tulsa massacre of 1921 -- is an imperative crossover from horror to real life.

Talk to Your Kids About ...

Families can talk about Candyman 's violence . How did it make you feel? Was it exciting? Shocking? What did the movie show or not show to achieve this effect? Why is that important?

Is the movie scary? What's the appeal of scary movies ? Why do people sometimes like to be scared?

What does the final message, "tell everyone," mean? What other messages do you think the film is trying to convey about art, race, and identity? The filmmakers have put together resources and organizations that support racial justice and healing; click here to learn more.

Why do you think the movie is set in the art world? How much art is created, and how much is "borrowed" from other places? What does this all mean? What does it mean for a movie called Candyman ?

How does this film compare to the other movies in the Candyman series, and to the original story?

Movie Details

• In theaters : August 27, 2021
• On DVD or streaming : September 16, 2021
• Cast : Yahya Abdul-Mateen II , Teyonah Parris , Nathan Stewart-Jarrett
• Director : Nia DaCosta
• Inclusion Information : Female directors, Black directors, Black actors, Female actors
• Studio : Universal Pictures
• Genre : Horror
• Topics : Monsters, Ghosts, and Vampires
• Run time : 91 minutes
• MPAA rating : R
• MPAA explanation : bloody horror violence, and language including some sexual references
• Last updated : August 25, 2023

Did we miss something on diversity?

Research shows a connection between kids' healthy self-esteem and positive portrayals in media. That's why we've added a new "Diverse Representations" section to our reviews that will be rolling out on an ongoing basis. You can help us help kids by suggesting a diversity update.

Suggest an Update

Our editors recommend.

Candyman (1992)

Sorry to Bother You

Best horror movies, thriller movies, related topics.

• Monsters, Ghosts, and Vampires

Want suggestions based on your streaming services? Get personalized recommendations

Common Sense Media's unbiased ratings are created by expert reviewers and aren't influenced by the product's creators or by any of our funders, affiliates, or partners.

Filed under:

The new Candyman was modernized for the wrong audience

It’s cluttered, preachy, and not nearly scary enough

Share this story

• Share this on Facebook
• Share this on Reddit
• Share All sharing options

Share All sharing options for: The new Candyman was modernized for the wrong audience

Nia DaCosta’s Candyman , the repetitive, superficial fourth entry in the horror franchise, is set in Chicago, the same city where Bernard Rose’s original 1992 version of Candyman began the saga by exploring the connection between mythology, urban legends, and anti-Black violence. Those themes haven’t abated since Rose’s film hit theaters — they’ve only intensified. But the new version muddles them, with flat social commentary, and even flatter horror thrills.

DaCosta’s version opens in 1977, as an echoed, haunting rendition of Sammy Davis Jr.’s signature song, “The Candy Man,” jangles. The camera peers over the Cabrini-Green row houses, the infamous housing projects located auspiciously on the city’s affluent north side. The police are patrolling for a local murderer, a Black man with a hook attached to his arm. He’s been accused of putting razor blades in candy and giving it to children, hurting a young white girl in the process.

The residents, including a young Black boy heading to a basement laundry room, avoid the cops who are patrolling for him. The racial dynamics at play, and the overpoliced location, make the situation ripe for trouble. Similar to Rose’s film, DaCosta uses the racial dynamics of Cabrini-Green to set up a story about white-inflicted racial violence, the ways white folks encroach on Black spaces, and the harm that an overzealous police force and apathetic government can cause to neglected Black people.

Several rounds of Black Lives Matter protests and the proliferation of videos capturing Black death at police hands have crystallized Rose’s film as a fantastical folkloric horror, a palpable parable of Black reality, set on a forsaken side of town. DaCosta is the recipient of those themes, responsible for translating them into a story that fits the present racial environment. But her Candyman is a confused, overstuffed web of shallowly presented ideas, including critiques of gentrification and the white critical lens, and a request for Black liberation.

After the flashback opening, DaCosta’s Candyman jumps to the present day, where Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), a noted visual artist, carries out a chemistry-free relationship with art-gallery director Brianna (Teyonah Parris). Lately, Anthony has been in a creative rut. His previous series of paintings, featuring Black men with nooses draped over their necks and bare chests, is now old news. But then Brianna’s brother (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) tells Anthony the legend of Candyman, in a campfire story that sums up the events of the 1992 film: Helen Lyle (Virginia Madsen) ventured to Cabrini-Green and kidnapped a Black baby, but died in a bonfire. Anthony, who connects with Black pain on a shallow level, exploiting it for personal fame, decides to make Cabrini-Green his next subject.

This won’t be the only time we hear of Candyman’s legend: How you need only to say his name five times in a mirror to call him, or how his story traces back to the late 1800s, when a lynch mob captured him for fathering a child with a white woman. They cut off his arm, covered him with honey, and unleashed a swarm of bees to kill him. While viewers who haven’t watched the 1992 film will probably need this refresher on its plot, DaCosta’s sequel recounts the events of the prior film no less than three times, making its 90-minute runtime terribly distributed.

Each iteration of the retelling uses the same visual style, with bewitching silhouette images from real-life painter Kara Walker , who makes miniature black cutouts of people to convey the legend. In the beginning, this motif offers a captivating storytelling method, marrying the origin of myths with the idea of shadows on a cave wall. But DaCosta hits that well one too many times, and on each successive deployment, the strategy is less intriguing, mostly because there’s little meaning behind the aesthetic choice. While Walker’s art often interrogates the past, disrupting the romanization of America’s racial fairytale and the idea of a grand melting pot , the redundant retelling blunts the intended depth of her work.

That’s a general problem with the script, written by Jordan Peele , Win Rosenfeld, and DaCosta: Candyman is so message-driven that it flattens into a generic fable. During his research, McCoy ventures to Cabrini-Green, traversing through the nearly abandoned row houses. He meets William Burke (Colman Domingo), not only one of the area’s last residents, but a totem for the hurt and sense of abandonment felt by the city’s terrorized Black folks.

Domingo does some Herculean heavy lifting as William. He’s speaking for this community, and in a sense, almost every African-American urban neighborhood, when he tells McCoy about seeing a Black man wrongly accused of being Candyman, and beaten to death by police. Domingo nearly pulls it off, imbuing an agony and hidden rage within William that isn’t totally fleshed out in this withered script.

DaCosta’s previous film, Little Woods , was lived-in and detailed because she used the rugged landscape as an extension of her characters. In Candyman , Cabrini-Green isn’t as well-leveraged. Viewers who have never been to Chicago may not know the geographical importance of Cabrini-Green: The housing project bordered the Gold Coast, one of the city’s luxe neighborhoods. Barring a brief shot of Chicago’s glittering downtown skyline, which backgrounds the row houses, DaCosta’s film doesn’t work to convey that economic disparity, and why the city desperately wants to gentrify the former projects to make room for more luxury housing.

Today, those row houses are the last remnants of Cabrini-Green — the brick towers shown in Rose’s film were demolished in 2011. Those abandoned homes still hold a foreboding, from the memories of police brutality that scar the landscape, and the generations of Black folks who once dwelled in the complex. But DaCosta’s film doesn’t convey any of that, because she barely filmed in the neighborhood.

The lack of a visual metaphor makes the film’s exploration of gentrification more of an assemblage of nonspecific dialogue. It talks about what gentrification is, and not what it looks like. The same can be said of the movie’s kills, which are less propelled by plot, and more message-driven. There’s plenty of blood-spewing and bone-cracking, but with no sense of the terror lurking in the shadows, or the foreboding behind the walls.

The movie also delves into body horror, while exploring the obsessive sacrifice artists make for their art. After Anthony is stung by a bee, a rash develops on his hand, slowly causing his skin to itch and peel. His burst of neurotic creativity coincides with the deterioration of his body. The practical makeup work here is highly effective and gruesome, as is Abdul-Mateen II’s cowering performance. During this period, McCoy produces a plethora of pieces centering Black death. Much of it is rote, because he’s exploiting Black folks’ shared historical pain in a shallow manner. A white art critic who isn’t impressed with his work sees a different repetition, one about Black artists perpetually crying about gentrification. She’s totemic of an ignorant white-centered critical lens, but DaCosta’s critique of that lens isn’t very interesting, or connected to the overarching narrative.

Like Anthony, DaCosta struggles to craft art that isn’t wholly informed by the past. From Anthony listening to Helen’s audiotapes to other visual motifs — like a hole in the wall behind a mirror — this film is filled with copious references to the prior Candyman entries. But what story does DaCosta want to tell? If this is a movie about the legend of Candyman, then why is he no more than an underutilized boogeyman? If this is about the residents of Cabrini-Green, then why not feature them or the area more heavily? Vanessa Estelle Williams reprises her role from the 1992 film, and considering the rich depth of her backstory — in the first movie, her baby was kidnapped by Candyman — it’s a wonder why this story wasn’t centered on her.

Like Anthony, DaCosta seems to want to say something substantial with her work. Her Candyman makes broad metaphorical strokes about the larger urban Black experience, but it’s aimed at an oblivious audience that needs didactic storytelling to understand racial politics. The film’s end is particularly muddled, doing more to set up a sequel than to smartly bind together Candyman ’s varied, nascent themes. The film is missing out on a cohesive vision, to the point where the audience will spend the entire film waiting for the flashbacks and summaries to end, and for DaCosta’s movie to finally begin. But by the end, she’s only offered a visually stunning homage to the original film. For a director of her talent, that isn’t enough.

Peele’s own directorial work tends to explore fraught social issues on a subtler level than this, but the other projects he’s backed — Twilight Zone , Lovecraft Country , and Hunters — have been underwhelming because they approach their subjects with suffocating bluntness. DaCosta’s Candyman , a sequel clearly filmed by a director with only a cursory knowledge of Chicago, a lesser understanding of the ways legends haunt us, and an unevenness for looping frights in with social commentary, is bold in its ambition. DaCosta tries to pay tribute to a classic horror film while upping the ante of that film’s social conversations, but she follows in the same disappointing steps of Peele’s other produced projects. She doesn’t have the voice required to approach these issues with depth.

Candyman debuts in theaters on August 27.

Halle Berry’s new survival horror movie, Never Let Go, looks like a terrifying trip to the woods

Karyn kusama shares why she thinks her dracula movie got staked through the heart, dead boy detectives proves yaoi would save a repressed edwardian schoolboy.

Log in or sign up for Rotten Tomatoes

Trouble logging in?

By continuing, you agree to the Privacy Policy and the Terms and Policies , and to receive email from the Fandango Media Brands .

By creating an account, you agree to the Privacy Policy and the Terms and Policies , and to receive email from Rotten Tomatoes and to receive email from the Fandango Media Brands .

By creating an account, you agree to the Privacy Policy and the Terms and Policies , and to receive email from Rotten Tomatoes.

Email not verified

Let's keep in touch.

Sign up for the Rotten Tomatoes newsletter to get weekly updates on:

• Upcoming Movies and TV shows
• Trivia & Rotten Tomatoes Podcast
• Media News + More

By clicking "Sign Me Up," you are agreeing to receive occasional emails and communications from Fandango Media (Fandango, Vudu, and Rotten Tomatoes) and consenting to Fandango's Privacy Policy and Terms and Policies . Please allow 10 business days for your account to reflect your preferences.

OK, got it!

Movies / TV

No results found.

• What's the Tomatometer®?
• Login/signup

Movies in theaters

• Opening this week
• Top box office
• Coming soon to theaters
• Certified fresh movies

Movies at home

• Fandango at Home
• Netflix streaming
• Prime Video
• Most popular streaming movies
• What to Watch New

Certified fresh picks

• Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga Link to Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga
• Hit Man Link to Hit Man
• Babes Link to Babes

New TV Tonight

• Evil: Season 4
• Stax: Soulsville, U.S.A.: Season 1
• Trying: Season 4
• Tires: Season 1
• Fairly OddParents: A New Wish: Season 1
• Lolla: The Story of Lollapalooza: Season 1
• Jurassic World: Chaos Theory: Season 1
• Mulligan: Season 2
• The 1% Club: Season 1

Most Popular TV on RT

• Outer Range: Season 2
• Bridgerton: Season 3
• Dark Matter: Season 1
• Bodkin: Season 1
• Fallout: Season 1
• The 8 Show: Season 1
• The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power: Season 2
• Baby Reindeer: Season 1
• A Man in Full: Season 1
• Best TV Shows
• Most Popular TV
• TV & Streaming News

Certified fresh pick

• Bridgerton: Season 3 Link to Bridgerton: Season 3
• All-Time Lists
• Binge Guide
• Comics on TV
• Five Favorite Films
• Video Interviews
• Weekend Box Office
• Weekly Ketchup
• What to Watch

Cannes Film Festival 2024: Movie Scorecard

Mad Max Movies Ranked by Tomatometer

Asian-American Native Hawaiian Pacific Islander Heritage

What to Watch: In Theaters and On Streaming

‘Seen on the Screen’ Podcast: A Celebration of Universal Stories 

Weekend Box Office Results: John Krasinski’s IF Rises to the Top

• Trending on RT
• Furiosa First Reviews
• Most Anticipated 2025 Movies
• Cannes Film Festival Preview
• TV Premiere Dates

Candyman Reviews

Tony Todd's performance and the Philip Glass score set the film apart from similar slashers, but it serves more as an effective compilation of scenes as opposed to an entirely satisfying full-length narrative.

Full Review | Original Score: 3/5 | Sep 24, 2023

Candyman is perfectly shot, and its central characters are iconic.

Full Review | Aug 21, 2023

Candyman’s commentary on race remains just as riveting as it was thirty years ago, and its mix of fantastical and familiar horrors haunts audiences to this day.

Full Review | Original Score: 4/5 | Sep 1, 2022

Candyman explicitly becomes a horror story about the power and fascination of horror stories.

Full Review | Jun 7, 2022

Todd knows the perfect way to use his towering build and basso voice to intimidate and seduce. He embodies the sex & death hallmark of all Clive Barkers work better than any other actor ever has. It is, quite simply, a great performance.

Full Review | Original Score: 3/4 | Mar 20, 2022

Still something of a classic, thanks largely to Tony Todd’s grand performance in the title role, literally a tortured artist out for vengeance.

Full Review | Mar 17, 2022

Candyman's lasting greatness lies in its richness as a readable text and its ability to stoke our desire to keep finding new interpretations - even if its relevance continues to develop in disturbing ways.

Full Review | Original Score: 3.5/4 | Feb 17, 2022

Tony Todd shot to international stardom in this Chicago-based horror hit...

Full Review | Nov 2, 2021

...one of the smarter, more cerebral horror films on the block...

Full Review | Original Score: 3/5 | Aug 31, 2021

A topical and prescient adaptation of Clive Barker's short story "The Forbidden", Candyman will stick with you long after the credits roll.

Full Review | Original Score: 4/5 | Aug 30, 2021

The film not only gave us Tony Todd's dulcet-toned titular character, it attempted to tackle race, class inequality and gentrification in a progressive way - at a time when it wasn't fashionable. Plus (spoiler) Helen is the real villain of the piece

Full Review | Original Score: 4.5/5 | Aug 27, 2021

There's enough full-bore gore to satisfy genre fans, but not so much that it obliterates the movie's flashes of savage wit and crafty intelligence.

Full Review | Aug 25, 2021

A chilly, bloody, romantic, and intelligent slice of horror that stands as a modern classic of the genre.

Full Review | Aug 8, 2021

Wonderfully playing against expectation, Candyman leaves you wondering where the story will go next, something missing in most horror movies.

Full Review | Jan 13, 2021

...the Tony Todd-starring classic from 1992 was something else.

Full Review | Nov 6, 2020

If the movie has a White lens, it at least makes room for a Black side-eye.

Full Review | Original Score: 3/4 | Oct 2, 2020

The premise is highly original, the atmosphere terrifying, and the acting superb, especially considering the subgenre and its popularity for poor performances.

Full Review | Original Score: 9/10 | Sep 11, 2020

Candyman is creepy without relying heavily on the elements that have always turned me away from horror... building a sense of foreboding atmosphere with the help of an incredibly chilling score by Phillip Glass.

Full Review | Aug 18, 2020

The drama in its story is put before its horror ingredients, making it one of the best films around. It's a psychological horror film with captivating social commentary.

Full Review | Original Score: A+ | Mar 6, 2020

The movie soon enough abandons this interesting and original direction, detouring back onto familiar horror movie ground.

Full Review | Original Score: 2/4 | Mar 4, 2020

To revisit this article, visit My Profile, then View saved stories .

• What Is Cinema?
• Newsletters

Candyman Tries to Have Its Cake and Kill It, Too

By Richard Lawson

Maybe if a movie says what it’s about five times (or more), that meaning does actually manifest. Such is the risky test of Candyman (in theaters August 27), a continuation of the story begun with the 1992 of the same title. The new film—from director Nia DaCosta with a script by DaCosta, Win Rosenfeld , and Jordan Peele —takes what was a rather one-sided consideration and turns its gaze toward the other facet. 

The first film dealt with a white academic, Helen Lyle, investigating a legend born in the ruinously neglected Cabrini-Green housing project in Chicago, whose population was largely Black. Bernard Rose ’s turgid, engrossing film was a standout in its day for melding gory frights with social commentary, but it was still a story told from a very familiar, and limited, perspective. Thus the 2021 Candyman , which examines the legacy of the titular vengeful ghoul from the point of view of Black Chicagoans maneuvering a changed city. 

The Cabrini-Green towers have been demolished, the land repurposed for luxury condominiums during the city’s rapid gentrification. Anthony ( Yahya Abdul-Mateen II ) is an up-and-coming artist who’s moved into one of those finely appointed homes with his curator girlfriend, Brianna ( Teyonah Parris ). They are on haunted land—a fact immediately spelled out by Brianna’s brother, Troy ( Nathan Stewart-Jarrett ), who’s come over for dinner with his boyfriend. Troy tells Anthony and Brianna the tragic-creepy story of Helen’s descent, framing it as a wider narrative about the ravaging of urban Black communities and the furies unleashed by that pain.

This, of course, is what Candyman is about. But rather than threading that theme—all its sorrow, its terror, its terrible and damning implications—into the fabric of a scary movie, Candyman lays it all on top. The movie prefers to tell rather than show, making for an incomplete fusion of social commentary and gothic scares. The decision to put everything out there in plain text is understandable: especially post- Get Out , there has been an appetite for genre films, particularly horror, that are actually saying something about society. And the topics at hand in Candyman are as urgent as they come. What’s missing in DaCosta’s film, though, is a more thoughtful synthesis of message and medium. 

What certainly isn’t missing is style. Just about every frame of DaCosta’s film is a grand visual moment, shot in grave and saturated hues. Candyman adeptly captures the lonely, fluorescent-lit murmur of city life, both the cold grandeur of high-rises and the shabby, forgotten corners closer to the ground. Her carefully composed shots ( John Guleserian did the cinematography) have an enveloping pull, alluring and dreadful. When blood is splashed across the screen, it doesn’t arrive like an aberration, a substance invading the picture from without. Rather it seems that all this bright, awful matter is only rejoining the landscape, something elemental resurfacing and once again made undeniable. While the hypnotic lilt and churn of Philip Glass ’s original 1992 score is missed, composer Robert A.A. Lowe creates his own eerie soundscape, its tangle of voices and electronic moans closing in around the characters with grim inexorability. 

The actors move their way through this clenching mood with convincingly mounting alarm. Abdul-Matteen has the heaviest lifting to do, as Anthony begins to lose his sense of grounding in the world and learns a nightmarish truth about his childhood. He palpably embodies all that panic and transformation, the horror of history coming to bear so heavily on his present. Parris, always a welcome performer, has a more traditional path of discovery, but she fluidly plays the familiar beats.

Brianna gradually moves toward the center of the story as Candyman drives its themes home. The film is about the persistent stalking of past trauma—either personal or communal—and the ways its long, snaking tendrils infect and manipulate the mechanics of life. It’s a deeply sad, harrowing subject. But Candyman tries to wrestle some bitter, hard-won reclamation out of it, turning the legend and actual looming specter of Candyman himself—a vengeful ghost summoned by saying his name into a mirror five times—into a metaphor that can be recontextualized or repurposed, understood as something vast and innumerable rather than as a single threat. And then, maybe, pointed toward bitter righteousness.

What are we to make of the evocation of seeing “Say his name” scrawled on a wall in blood? Saying Candyman’s name brings about destruction, while the directive to cite the individual names of Black people murdered by police is, contemporarily, meant as a rallying cry of grief and defiance. The film recognizes Candyman as a totem of the fallen, placing him in a lineage of tragedy and injustice. Perhaps, then, the idea of the film is that those dead can be marshaled into a force of necessary reprisal, a Golem forged by the abuses of white society and now put in service of a new mission. The cycle of violence is not broken, it is only spun in another direction.

By Leah Faye Cooper

By Silvana Paternostro

By Savannah Walsh

That’s a provocative concept, but not one that the film delivers on thoroughly enough. For all its didacticism, particularly about literal art versus the more abstractly representational kind, Candyman ’s script doesn’t arrive at anything either persuasively concrete or compellingly allusive. It wants its metaphor and its reality at once, dueling approaches that give the film a sag at its center. This has a detrimental effect on the tension of the film; DaCosta doesn’t build to many big scares, either demurring at the violence or jumping into it at an awkward editing gait. The film is so busy working through what it’s trying to say that it loses its specific pacing and texture, tumbling toward a finale that subverts its own rules and confuses its argument. 

It is no doubt difficult to adapt an old legacy for the here and now, to reshape its sociopolitical and psychosexual storms into the vernacular of a very alert and discursive present day. Candyman makes an admirably full-throated effort to manage that tricky task, honoring the troubled but cherished original thing (it’s great to see Vanessa Williams briefly reprising her 1992 role, to that end) while trying to add new dimension—or, rather, to more fully tease out the context that was always there. With a tighter, more incisive script, DaCosta probably could have triumphed. But her bracing images are interrupted by writing that is all too eager to explain what we’re seeing—as if it’s not already evident, staring right back at the audience, whispering volumes.

— Love Is a Crime : Inside One of Hollywood’s Wildest Scandals — A First Look at Clerks III (Spoiler: They Still Don’t Like You) — Why The White Lotus Was Always Going to End That Way — David Chase Has Some Ideas About Our Continued Sopranos Obsessions — Why Doesn’t the New Gossip Girl Feel Fun? — Aretha Franklin: The Little-Known Traumas That Fueled Her Music — The Unhinged Brilliance of SNL ’s Cecily Strong — Fight Club: How the Movie Foretold 9/11 and Trump — How The Boys Became 2020’s Most Urgently Political Show — From the Archive: Selma Blair’s Transformation — Sign up for the “HWD Daily” newsletter for must-read industry and awards coverage—plus a special weekly edition of “Awards Insider.”

Richard Lawson

Chief critic.

By Anthony Breznican

By David Canfield

By Eric Lutz

By Donald Liebenson

By Bess Levin

By Matthew Sheffield

By Hillary Busis

By Chris Murphy

Things you buy through our links may earn  Vox Media  a commission.

Candyman Is a Soulless, Didactic Reimagining

It’s a familiar scenario rippling through history: White people turned on, revved up, and outright libidinal in the face of Black suffering and Black death. In this case, the scenario involves a curator and the nominally alternative assistant he’s sleeping with, who speaks in Joy Division lyrics and clichés. They’re in a slick but tinny art gallery, after hours, somewhere in Chicago’s West Loop, although there is nothing here that would cue you to the midwestern location. She buckles him to her belt. They kiss and grind against each other with sloppy hunger in front of a small mirror as the hushed lighting of the gallery flicks between cherry red, icy blue, and the cool gray of projected images. But it isn’t just any mirror. It’s an art piece by Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) that, when opened, reveals paintings representing in blunt terms police violence and lynchings, in which Black people turn into Black bodies to be filed away.

The mirror is an invitation for horror and transformation, potential all mirrors carry. “Candyman,” she says between kisses, speaking the name of an urban legend, bringing it into reality. She repeats the name, the invocation, this spell, a total of five times. It’s then that a figure can be glimpsed in the corner of the mirror. A hulking Black man with a hook for a hand and features that remain in shadow. With a single stroke, seen only in the glass and not in the flesh, this supernatural figure slits the woman’s throat. “Is this real?” her confused partner heaves as he holds onto her body, blood springing from her jugular in a swift arc. He tries to escape the same fate, at the hand of a killer whose visage ripples across reflective surfaces. There’s slit throats, concussed heads, ripped tendons, and copious amounts of blood in the scene, yet it fails to pierce the skin of the viewer. The timing is off. The gore is too deliberately placed to carry the fury necessary. There is no tension, no artistry, no silken grace nor grimy texture to be found. It’s glossy to the point of being featureless. Like the film it’s housed in, this scene glides over intriguing ideas — the white desire born from witnessing Black suffering — but never grapples with the full weight of them.

It’s hard to parse exactly what went so wrong without knowing details about the production of Candyman, the Nia DaCosta–helmed and Jordan Peele–co-written continuance/reimagining of the 1992 film of the same name. The trailers and marketing held so much promise, the tagline “Say His Name” evoking history and communal fury. (We said “Say her name” about Breonna Taylor before her image appeared on glossy magazine covers, fuel for a capitalist system that betrayed her and her memory.) But as the art-gallery scene demonstrates, this Candyman misunderstands the allure of the original and has nothing meaningful to say about the contemporary ideas it observes with all the scrutiny of someone rushing through a Starbucks order on their way to work. Candyman is the most disappointing film of the year so far, limning not only the artistic failures of the individuals who ushered it to life, but the artistic failures of an entire industry that seeks to commodify Blackness to embolden its bottom line.

The ’92 Candyman, written and directed by Bernard Rose, is an unnerving, sometimes outright frightening masterwork. Based on a story by Clive Barker, who also is responsible for the source material of the Hellraiser films, the film effortlessly blends eroticism with the macabre. While Virginia Madsen plays the lead, an ingratiating, ambitious graduate student Helen Lyle, it’s Tony Todd as the titular villain that proves to be a crucial reason for why the film endures. Yes, its interrogation of Chicago’s history with gentrification remains vital and fascinating. Yes, the kills are well-paced and evocative. Yes, the production design is dense and sensual. But Todd’s magnetic performance beckons and beguiles. His Candyman, while brutal, is also seductive. He doesn’t so much say Helen’s name but purrs it, drawing out vowels and consonants until they have a music of their own. He glides as he walks. His gaze is direct. He isn’t a simple slasher or wisecracking murderer — he’s an emblem of all that America loves to forget: the blood and bodies necessary to keep the lie of the American dream alive.

But there’s also a contradiction to this Candyman. He gets his power from the perpetuation of his legend, which requires fresh kills. Yet why would the vengeful spirit of a Black man — Daniel Robitaille, a painter and son of a slave, who fell in love and got a white woman pregnant, and who was then beaten and tortured, his hand sawn off, slathered in honey, stung by bees, and set on fire, all on the land that would become Chicago’s infamous Cabrini–Green projects — choose to terrorize Black people so viciously? Maybe he’s an equal-opportunity killer, but there’s something about this logic that’s always snagged me. DaCosta, Peele, and their collaborators seemingly sought to iron out this contradiction. 2021’s Candyman is not just the spirit of Todd’s Daniel Robitaille but of an entire legion of Black men killed viciously by white, state violence, who act as vengeful spirits more keen to harm white folks than the Black folks whose land their spirits are now tied to. (The film contradicts its own logic, though, when one of the Candymen kills a dark-skinned Black girl in flashback.) Instead of a suave yet brutalizing sole figure haunting your every moment, these Candymen are nowhere to be seen in the flesh, only in the mirrors used to summon them, perhaps a spiritual echo to Ralph Ellison’s work. Something is lost without a figure like Todd, but the ideas here have merit, if only the artists involved had an inkling for what to do with them.

Anthony McCoy (a surprisingly deadened Abdul-Mateen) is the picture of what has been largely marketed as Black excellence. He lives in the slick high-rises that have replaced Cabrini–Green’s projects with his assimilationist art-curator girlfriend, Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris). He’s hungry and desperate for new material. He was once considered the “great Black hope of the Chicago art scene,” which he’d like to remain. When he’s told the legend of Helen Lyle — rendered here in cutouts and shadow play that feel more inventive than anything else in the film, but too haphazardly deployed to fully capture the viewer — by Brianna’s brother, Troy (a grating Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), Anthony finds himself tumbling down a dark path. He may be an artist, but his story is clearly mapped onto Helen’s. He moves like her — an interloper and anthropologist picking over the remains of other people’s lives. Although the only actual poor character you hear from in this story rooted in the Cabrini–Green community is William (a jittery, arch Colman Domingo), whose younger self appears in flashbacks at different points of the film.

After getting a bee sting at the site of the Cabrini–Green projects, it isn’t just Anthony’s mind that unravels as he descends further and further into the folklore of Candyman, but his body too. The sting becomes a wound that oozes and crackles, traveling up his arm until he’s covered in stings. If you know the original, it becomes clear long before any “twist” that this film isn’t a reimagining so much as a remixed continuation. Sometimes the film dips into Brianna’s point of view as she grapples with the discovery of bodies at the art gallery, reminding her of the trauma of witnessing her schizophrenic father’s death by suicide (a detail that feels copy-and-pasted from an earlier version of the script rather than fully integrated into this story). But such a scattered approach is hemmed in by Parris herself — a stunning woman but a middling actress that DaCosta fails to shape well. (Parris will be directed by DaCosta again in the behemoth Captain Marvel sequel, The Marvels , which is only the director’s third film.)

Candyman lacks energy and inventiveness. Its screenplay is remarkably didactic, showing that it was intended neither for an audience of diehard horror fans nor Black people. Every intriguing plot point — the Candy men , the Invisible Man ethos — is squandered by pedestrian direction, facile thought, and a craven commodification of Blackness. In trying to reckon with the contradictions of the ’92 film, as well as carve out their own work, DaCosta and her collaborators have created a misfire that can’t make its tangle of politics — about gentrification, the Black body (horror), racism, white desire — feel either relevant or provocative. When Blackness is whittled down, this is the kind of poor cultural product we are sold.

Candyman tells you loudly from the jump what it thinks you should hear. “White people built the ghetto then erased it when they realized they built the ghetto,” Brianna says, with all the finesse of a first rehearsal. At another point, William tells Anthony, “They love what we make but not us.” Such lines aren’t only dry as hell, they’re a tell. The film can’t run from the fact that it was created with a white audience in mind, full of explanations and blunt language for things Black people already understand on a molecular level.

There’s another strange line, uttered by a white art critic cruelly and stereotypically judging Anthony’s work at the gallery. “It speaks in didactic media clichés about the ambient violence of the gentrification cycle,” she says. “Your kind are the real pioneers of that cycle.” When Anthony asks who the hell she’s referring to, she counters, “Artists.” It’d be one thing if DaCosta left that commentary there, but it becomes a through-line where Black gentrifiers are equated with white ones, as if they hold the same sort of power to alter their surroundings and flatten the culture of a place and community. In making Anthony’s story so much like Helen’s — to the point that he almost retraces her journey, even listening to her old recordings about the communal need for folklore to explain the violence of their lives in Cabrini–Green — the film treads queasy territory. Helen was a tourist and Anthony is positioned as one too, even though by the end of the film it is evident he isn’t that so much as an unaware prodigal son returning home. This is the molten core of the film — confused politics intertwined with juvenile artistry in which a meaningful conversation about gentrification is imagined without the prominent voices of those harmed by it.

Horror has always been political, best when it lets images and characters and sonic dimensions speak to a certain work’s integral concerns. But Candyman moves in a way that speaks to this moment in both Black filmmaking in Hollywood and the so-called “prestige” horror boom, in which its creators can’t find a political message they won’t hit you over the head with until you’re as bloody and begging for release as the characters onscreen. If the original heaves and breathes with ripe contradictions and precise aesthetic compositions, DaCosta’s sputters and fizzles.

And how in the hell do you make Yahya Abdul-Mateen II uncharismatic? I’ve complained about the lack of potent talent in the younger crop of actors on the come up in Hollywood before, most of whom have graduated from the Go Girl Give Us Nothing School of Acting. Abdul-Mateen isn’t one of them. He’s a force, and not just because he is traffic-stopping fine as hell — a fact the filmmakers realize, granting us a multitude of shots of Yahya rocking little beyond a pair of boxers. On paper, casting Abdul-Mateen makes a lot of sense. His booming voice, physical presence, and training make him a worthy heir to Todd. But the script and direction fail him repeatedly, leading to a remarkably thinly drawn performance showcasing no interior life, which further hobbles the unearned closing of the film. The film postures as if it wants to critique the ways Black trauma is commodified and made successful in the realm of art, then does the very same thing. When it needs to demonstrate Anthony’s mental unraveling, the film calls upon clichés about mad geniuses. Black people are continuously vexed by inner and outer forces, which makes the braiding together of Black madness and horror written upon a Black man’s body so apt. But in Candyman, madness is prosaic. It’s a spectacle — all tongues lolling, eyes wild — not a lived experience. In Candyman , the filmmakers are interested in the Black body but not the soul and mind that animates it.

Specificity, particularly in a film such as this, isn’t just about a people, but a place. And Chicago is essential to the Candyman story. The image of its downtown skyline juxtaposed with the rot of remaining slums is a visual tic the film relies on but doesn’t rightfully build upon. At one point, a haughty Truman Capote–looking art purveyor dubs the city “provincial,” which wouldn’t be so annoying if it were clear the filmmakers disagreed. Candyman ’s Chicago is wiped of the down-home rhythms, vernacular, and stylings that make it distinct. The city is rendered here as nowhere, New York lite — all primarily anonymous skyscrapers and interiors. Like so much in the film, geography is hampered by poor framing, pacing, tension, narrative evolution, and color-palette choices by DaCosta, cinematographer John Guleserian, and editor Catrin Hedström. A film such as this should grab hold of your heart, make your skin prickle, cause you to sit at the edge of your seat in panicked fascination. Instead, it glides over you like water rushing over a passing pebble, leaving little mark at all, save for when the didacticism sets in again.

At this point, we need to have a conversation about Jordan Peele’s creative efforts outside of his direction, which I’m admittedly cool on. Between producing the abominable Twilight Zone refashioning and the sloppy and at times offensive Lovecraft Country , and having a hand in writing Candyman , it’s clear that Peele knows a lot about the genres he’s moving through but lacks the ability to bring them to life with the vigor and talent necessary. For her part, DaCosta did indeed demonstrate a steadiness and emotional curiosity in her 2018 debut film Little Woods . It made me eager to see where she would go. But in Candyman, there’s not a trace of DaCosta’s voice, let alone that of any vibrant artist with a sure perspective. It’s perhaps a result of studios catapulting fresh talent from small independent pictures to bigger IP-related projects, skipping the now-nonexistent mid-budget work where stars were traditionally made and directors honed their vision. Candyman augurs Hollywood’s bleak future and what works it will green-light, especially from Black artists. There’s an added edge to how studios seek to commodify Blackness and, in a marked change from previous decades, how Black directors are hired to do it. Here, our feverish desire for change, encouraged by the uprisings of last year, is sanded off and resold as progress for the price of a movie ticket.

More Movie Reviews

• Paolo Sorrentino’s Parthenope Is As Beguiling As It Is Alienating
• The Fall Guy Is a Funny, Romantic, Stunt-Filled Delight
• Dune: Part Two Is Zendaya’s Movie
• vulture homepage lede
• movie review
• yahya abdul-mateen ii
• jordan peele
• nia dacosta

Most Viewed Stories

• Cinematrix No. 64: May 23, 2024
• Ella Purnell Is Hollywood’s New Favorite Action Hero
• Vanderpump Rules Should Have Done This Years Ago
• The Double Loss of Under the Bridge
• The 20 Best Documentaries on Netflix
• A Complete Track-by-Track Timeline of Drake and Kendrick Lamar’s Feud
• The Valley Recap: Big Bear It All

Editor’s Picks

Most Popular

What is your email.

This email will be used to sign into all New York sites. By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Policy and to receive email correspondence from us.

Sign In To Continue Reading

Create your free account.

Password must be at least 8 characters and contain:

• Lower case letters (a-z)
• Upper case letters (A-Z)
• Numbers (0-9)
• Special Characters (!@#$%^&*)

As part of your account, you’ll receive occasional updates and offers from New York , which you can opt out of anytime.

Candyman (2021) Review

A pain that lasts forever.

Candyman (2021)

It’s not often I approach reviews in the first person. I, more often than not, come at the review from above, writing while facing downward: the objective plot summary and the opinion-based analysis. But sitting here, shivering even after running a lap, I can’t fathom discussing this feature without highlighting this emotional response. More than once, I wanted to puke. More than once, I shed tears. More than once, I screamed. For who? I don’t dare say his name.

This horror feature opens to the sound of buzzing bees laid atop a slightly modified version of “The Candyman Can.” It perfectly sets the scene for a movie that will capitalize off of original feature nostalgia while dragging the tale into the 21 st century. First, it’s the 70’s in Cabrini Green, the Chicago public hosing project that’s the focus in 1992’s Candyman .

There, a gentle man with a hook for an appendage and a handful of candy scares a child who accidentally summons the police. Soon, it flashes forward to present day where an artist, Anthony (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Watchmen ) and his girlfriend, Brianna (Teyonah Parris, If Beale Street Could Talk , WandaVision ), are getting settled into their new apartment in a complex built where projects used to stand. Over wine, the pair, along with Breanna’s brother and his boyfriend, discuss the complex history of gentrification in a way that updates the conversation and highlights its continued relevance.

Anthony is an artist, Brianna, a gallery director which gives him access to premier his work at her shows. Inspired by a haunting tale of the Candyman , Anthony creates an art piece from a bathroom mirror. A piece deemed unappealing by attendees. Scorned by the gallery staff, Anthony leaves, but the haunting tale of Candyman is left in the space without him and the name is said five times into Anthony’s reflective piece. Bloody deaths come next and while their being reported on the news, a flustered Anthony is thrilled to hear the reporter say his name.

Feeling closer than ever to the myth, Anthony slowly begins to lose himself to the tale. His art becomes macabre, his relationships begin to crumble, and he slips deeper into obsession with the shell of a human he sees reflected in the mirror. Can he be saved or will he be a victim?

“Scorned by the gallery staff, Anthony leaves, but the haunting tale of Candyman is left in the space without him and the name is said five times into Anthony’s reflective piece.”

Director, Nia DaCosta (who shares writing credit with Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld) brings both the necessary sensibilities and the capacity to craft a perfect scare. Her visual style is stunning and her lighting and mirror tricks had me scrunching my face to solve the mystery of the hidden camera. Scenes are reminiscent of Velvet Buzzsaw but are a monster of their own, awash in reds and blues. Each death takes a completely different approach to the scare, though there’s never a shortage of blood (and some truly grotesque practical gore).

Staring head on, reflected in a mirror, from outside a window, or inside a bathroom stall, you’ll see blood spilled in multiple ways. It’s a cruel joke and beautiful irony to lay conversations about gentrification atop stunning architecture. But then, DaCosta covers it all in blood.

There’s a compulsion throughout to wonder what’s happening to Anthony. Is this another tale of horror as an allegory for an unraveling mind? It might be. But the tale is more of the brutal affects of intergenerational trauma paired with the stark reality of new traumatization. Anthony visits a man he meets while investigating the projects named William (Colman Domingo) who regales him with the legend.

As Anthony slips deeper into its grasp, William explains the entire history of the apparition and how he’s a stand-in for the Black men killed for their race. Gesturing to the faces of many men, he laments their losses, painting a straight line from the inherited trauma and it’s continued rolling through generations. The police in the 1977 scenes are as menacing as those in 2021, and if the sounds of sirens induced vomit then, they still do now.

If the film loses itself anywhere, it’s in its desire to strap itself to the original a bit too much. But it shows its cards early enough and has beautiful implications about canon. There’s an on-the-nose ending that will drag you through the muck but it pays off in a way that makes the ordeal worthwhile. I don’t think I exhaled for about three full minutes until the closing of the finale, and I spent time consciously telling my body not to shatter.

Nia DaCosta’s take on this rich tale is nothing short of brilliant. Dare I say, a work of art that might slip off the fingers of Anthony? “Masterpiece” gets thrown around often, but it’s worth slapping on DaCosta’s opus. The combination of tragedy and scares is an assault on the emotions that left my own sensibilities completely obliterated. As the credits rolled beside a paper puppet show that further developed the myth, I struggled to avoid grabbing my phone to #TellEveryone about what I’d just seen, before remembering I’d said his name four times and deciding I better not.

Final Thoughts

After submitting her Bachelor's thesis, “The Metaphysics of Schwarzenegger Movies,” Lindsay decided to focus on writing about her passions; sci-fi, horror, sports, and comic books. She covers movies and games for CGMagazine and you can follow her work on Twitter @smashtraves.

This post may contain affiliate links. If you use these links to buy something, CGMagazine may earn a commission. However, please know this does not impact our reviews or opinions in any way. See our ethics statement.

Related Stories

The Garfield Movie (2024) Review

I Saw The TV Glow (2024) Review

The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024) Review

Top stories.

• OMEN Transcend 14 Revolutionizes Portability, Power and PC Gaming System Shock (Xbox Series X) Review Pixels & Ink Podcast: Episode 418 — Gaming in Flux Genshin Impact Guide: How to Get the Ultra-Hot Burner Lamp Test Model CGMagazine’s Game of the Year 2022 Gears of War, Halo, and the Rise of Kinect on Xbox Diving Into History with Insert Coin’s Joshua Tsui Microsoft Announces Surface Pro 10 and Laptop 6, and Copilot+ PCs Senua’s Saga: Hellblade 2 Review Ghost Of Tsushima Director’s Cut (PC) Review

• Cast & crew
• User reviews

The Garfield Movie

After Garfield's unexpected reunion with his long-lost father, ragged alley cat Vic, he and his canine friend Odie are forced from their perfectly pampered lives to join Vic on a risky heist... Read all After Garfield's unexpected reunion with his long-lost father, ragged alley cat Vic, he and his canine friend Odie are forced from their perfectly pampered lives to join Vic on a risky heist. After Garfield's unexpected reunion with his long-lost father, ragged alley cat Vic, he and his canine friend Odie are forced from their perfectly pampered lives to join Vic on a risky heist.

• Mark Dindal
• Paul A. Kaplan
• Mark Torgove
• David Reynolds
• Chris Pratt
• Samuel L. Jackson
• Hannah Waddingham
• 28 User reviews
• 63 Critic reviews
• 34 Metascore

• Jon Arbuckle

• Tour Guide Tracy

• All cast & crew
• Production, box office & more at IMDbPro

The Big List of Summer Movies

More like this

Did you know

• Trivia Frank Welker , who's voiced Garfield since 2007, expressed his disappointment at not being asked to voice the character for this film.

Jon : Say when!

[as he starts grating parmesan cheese on lasagne; from teaser and official trailers]

Garfield : Never, Jon! Bury me in cheese!

• Crazy credits At the end of the credits, there is a three-strip comic with Garfield asking the audience why they are still here, then he tells them they are waiting for a sequel.
• Connections Featured in AniMat's Crazy Cartoon Cast: To Infinity and... (2021)

User reviews 28

• May 7, 2024
• When will The Garfield Movie be released? Powered by Alexa
• May 24, 2024 (United States)
• United Kingdom
• United States
• Garfield: Mèo Béo Siêu Quậy
• Columbia Pictures
• Alcon Entertainment
• Double Negative (DNEG)
• See more company credits at IMDbPro
• $49,000,000

Technical specs

• Runtime 1 hour 41 minutes
• Dolby Digital
• Dolby Atmos
• D-Cinema 96kHz 7.1
• Dolby Surround 7.1
• 12-Track Digital Sound

Related news

Contribute to this page.

• See more gaps
• Learn more about contributing

More to explore

Recently viewed

“Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire” Reviews, Characters and Storyline

“Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire” is a 2024 American monster movie directed by Adam Wingard. Produced by Legendary Pictures and distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures, it acts as a sequel to “Godzilla vs. Kong” (2021) and is the fifth installment in the Monsterverse franchise, marking the 38th film in the Godzilla series and the 13th in the King Kong series. The cast includes Rebecca Hall, Brian Tyree Henry, Dan Stevens, Kaylee Hottle, Alex Ferns, and Fala Chen, with Hall, Henry, and Hottle reprising their roles from the previous film. The storyline follows Kong as he encounters more of his species in the Hollow Earth and teams up with Godzilla once again to thwart their tyrannical leader and his frost-breathing monster from attacking the Earth’s surface.

After the success of “Godzilla vs. Kong” during the COVID-19 pandemic, Legendary announced the sequel in March 2022, with filming scheduled to begin later that year. Wingard returned to direct, and Stevens was announced as a lead cast member in May 2022. Principal photography took place from July to November 2022 in the Gold Coast, Australia. The movie premiered at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre on March 25, 2024, and was released in the United States on March 29. Critical reception was mixed, with comparisons made to “Godzilla Minus One.” Despite this, it grossed $559 million worldwide against a budget of $135–150 million, becoming the second-highest-grossing film of 2024 and the top-grossing Godzilla film to date. A sequel is currently in development.

• Rebecca Hall portrays Dr. Ilene Andrews.
• Brian Tyree Henry takes on the role of Bernie Hayes.
• Dan Stevens appears as John Trapper.
• Kaylee Hottle plays Jia.
• Alex Ferns is cast as Mikael.
• Fala Chen portrays the Iwi Queen.
• Rachel House is featured as Hampton.
• Ron Smyck is credited as Harris.
• Chantelle Jamieson plays Jayne.
• Greg Hatton appears as Lewis.
• Kevin Copeland is the Submarine Commander.
• Tess Dobré portrays a Submarine Officer.
• Tim Carroll is credited as Wilcox.
• Anthony Brandon Wong is the Talk Show Announcer.

Three years after defeating Mechagodzilla, Kong has established his new domain in the Hollow Earth and seeks out more of his kind. Meanwhile, Godzilla maintains peace on Earth’s surface, eliminating threats like Scylla in Rome before resting in the Colosseum.

A Monarch observation post in Hollow Earth detects an unknown signal, causing Jia, the last survivor of the Iwi tribe, to experience visions. Concerned, Dr. Ilene Andrews, Jia’s adoptive mother and a Kong expert, investigates. Godzilla, sensing the signal, leaves Rome, absorbs radiation at a nuclear plant in France, and heads to the Arctic. Kong discovers a hidden realm near his home where a tribe of his species survives. Bonding with a juvenile named Suko, Kong learns of the tribe’s plight under the tyrannical leader Skar King, who controls an ice-powered Titan named Shimo. Despite losing his axe and sustaining injuries, Kong escapes with Suko’s aid.

Andrews, Jia, Titan veterinarian Trapper, and podcaster Bernie Hayes journey to Hollow Earth to trace the signal. They find the outpost destroyed and encounter the surviving Iwi tribe. Exploring ruins, they uncover a prophecy revealing Skar King’s past and the role of Jia in awakening Mothra.

Equipped with a prototype exoskeletal glove, Kong joins the fight against Skar King and Shimo. Mothra’s intervention leads Godzilla and Kong to confront them in Hollow Earth, with the battle spilling over to Rio de Janeiro. Suko aids Kong in defeating Skar King and Shimo. After restoring balance, Godzilla returns to the surface, while Jia chooses to stay with Andrews. Mothra restores the Iwi’s protective barrier, and Kong becomes the leader of the ape tribe in Hollow Earth.

Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime Try Prime and start saving today with fast, free delivery

Amazon Prime includes:

Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.

• Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
• Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
• Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
• A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
• Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
• Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access

Important:  Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.

Return this item for free

Free returns are available for the shipping address you chose. You can return the item for any reason in new and unused condition: no shipping charges

• Go to your orders and start the return
• Select the return method

Link this device to your Amazon account to enable Frustration-Free Setup.

If you already have a qualifying Amazon device connected to your home network and stored network credentials, the new device can automatically join the same home network and automatically complete device setup.

Enhance your purchase

Image Unavailable

• To view this video download Flash Player

We want you to know

To benefit from Wi-Fi 6, a compatible Wi-Fi 6 router, like the eero Pro 6, is required. Fire TV Stick 4K is also compatible with earlier wifi routers.

Dolby Atmos is only available on select streaming services when connected to compatible equipment.

Alexa Voice Remote includes 4 pre-programmed app buttons including Netflix and Prime Video; other two app buttons will vary.

Amazon Fire TV Stick 4K streaming device, more than 1.5 million movies and TV episodes, supports Wi-Fi 6, watch free & live TV

Sustainability features.

This product has sustainability features recognized by trusted certifications.

Carbon emissions from the lifecycle of this product were reduced compared to similar products or previous models.

The Reducing CO2 label applies to products certified by the Carbon Trust, that are lowering their carbon emissions year after year for the full lifecycle of the product. The Carbon Trust was formed in 2001 and introduced the world’s first carbon label in 2007. It produces its certifications to global leading and independently verified standards. The Carbon Trust has a mission to accelerate the move to a sustainable, low carbon economy.

Learn more about this certification

Purchase options and add-ons

• Advanced 4K streaming - Elevate your entertainment with the next generation of our best-selling 4K stick, with improved streaming performance.
• Wi-Fi 6 support - Enjoy smooth 4K streaming, even when other devices are connected to your router.
• Cinematic experience - Watch in vibrant 4K Ultra HD with support for Dolby Vision, HDR10+, and immersive Dolby Atmos audio.
• Endless entertainment - Stream more than 1.5 million movies and TV episodes. Watch favorites from Netflix, Prime Video, Disney+, Max, and more. Subscription fees may apply.
• Stream for free - Access over 300,000 free movies and TV episodes from popular ad-supported streaming apps like Fire TV Channels, Amazon Freevee, Tubi, and Pluto TV.
• Enjoy MGM+ on us - Receive a 6-month subscription to MGM+, including access to thousands of Hollywood movies and Original series with your Fire TV purchase. Terms apply.
• Alexa Voice Remote - Quickly find, launch, and control content with your voice. Get to your favorite apps with preset buttons, and control TV power and volume with one remote.
• Do more with your smart home - Control compatible devices like cameras, lights, and more with your remote. Press and ask Alexa to check the weather or dim the lights.
• Your device

Smart home devices for you

• Smart Lighting
• Security Cameras
• Plugs and outlets
• Smart locks
• Wifi and Networking

"Alexa, turn on the lights."

Customers also bought these items from Amazon Devices

PRODUCT CERTIFICATION (1)

Reducing CO2 products reduce their carbon footprint year after year. Certified by the Carbon Trust.

An ultra-cinematic 4K experience

From playoffs to premieres, experience it all like you're there with support for cinematic 4K Ultra HD. Experience vivid color and brightness with support for Dolby Vision and HDR10+, immersive sound with Dolby Atmos, and smooth streaming with Wi-Fi 6. Add compatible Echo speakers for a complete Alexa Home Theater.

The next generation of our most popular 4K streaming stick

Upgrade your 4K streaming experience with Fire TV Stick 4K—now powered by a quad-core 1.7 GHz processor for faster app starts, and more fluid navigation. It makes getting to the good stuff even easier—all for an affordable price.

Wi-Fi 6 support

Dolby Vision.Atmos

Press and Ask Alexa

Enjoy smooth 4K streaming in your home

Our most popular streaming stick now supports Wi-Fi 6 for smooth 4K streaming, with less interference from other connected devices. To use Wi-Fi 6, you’ll need a compatible router like the eero Pro 6. If you have a Wi-Fi 6E router, we recommend Fire TV Stick 4K Max. Fire TV Stick 4K works with earlier wifi routers, too.

Reduces network congestion for smoother video streaming across multiple devices.

Fast speeds

Enjoy fast speeds and low latency when streaming 4K content or playing games in the cloud.

Supports 2.4 GHz and 5 GHz bands, so you can connect to the least-crowded frequency.

Over 1.5 million movies and TV episodes

Enjoy favorites from Netflix, Prime Video, Disney+, Max, Apple TV+, Peacock, STARZ, Paramount+, and others. Stream live TV, news, and sports, and even watch for free with Pluto TV, Amazon Freevee, YouTube, and more. Plus, play millions of songs through services like Amazon Music, and Spotify.

Subscription fees may apply.

Stream free movies, shows, and clips

Power on and start watching a world of free entertainment through ad-supported streaming apps like YouTube, Amazon Freevee, Tubi, and Pluto TV. You can access over 300,000 movies and TV episodes without paying for subscriptions. And, the new Fire TV Channels hub brings you free news clips, sports highlights, music videos, movie trailers, cooking tips, comedy bits, gaming videos, and more.

From smart home control to smart living

Control compatible smart home devices right from your TV. You can press and ask Alexa to do things like show Live View Picture-in-Picture camera feeds without interrupting your show, check the weather, order a pizza, and stream music. And Fire TV is always getting smarter with new Alexa Skills and voice functionality. Learn more about compatible smart home devices.

“Alexa, show my nursery camera.”

Smart Camera

Alexa Voice Remote with TV controls

Just press and ask Alexa to find, launch, and control content, or even switch to cable. Quickly get to favorite apps with preset buttons, and go beyond streaming to check sports scores and play music. Dedicated power and volume buttons control your compatible TV, soundbar, and receiver.

Simple to set up and use

Plug Fire TV Stick 4K directly into your HDMI input.

Attach power cable, and plug into wall outlet.

Pair remote with TV, connect to internet, and enjoy.

Designed for Sustainability

We measure this device's carbon footprint and look for opportunities to reduce its emissions at every stage of its life cycle. Figures are for FTV Stick 4K 2nd gen, not including any other versions or any bundled accessories or devices. We update the carbon footprint when we discover new information that changes the estimated carbon footprint of a device by more than 5%.

See Fire TV Stick 4K fact sheet

Carbon Footprint

33kg CO 2 e total carbon emissions

Fire TV Stick and remote made from 22% recycled materials. 100% recyclable packaging (shipping packaging not included).

Low Power Mode reduces energy consumption when idle, except in certain situations . We also invest in renewable energy that, by 2025, will be equivalent to this device's electricity usage.

Trade-in and Recycle

Built to last. But when you're ready, you can trade-in or recycle your devices. Explore Amazon Second Chance .

Compare Fire TV Streaming Devices

Technical details, fire tv stick 4k (2nd gen), alexa voice remote (3rd gen).

Videos for this product

Click to play video

Should You Buy? Fire TV Stick 4K vs 4K Max with WiFi 6E #thisorthat

Should You Buy?

Amazon Fire TV Stick 4K - Watch Before You Buy

The Product Lab

FireTV Stick - Watch before you buy it!

🟠🟢 LGJ Reviews 🟢🟠

First impressions of the Amazon Fire TV Stick 4K

Honest Review of Amazon Fire TV Stick 4K w/ USB Power Cable

Michael Morsillo

Looking for specific info?

Customer reviews.

Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.

To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.

Customers say

Customers like the value, speed, picture quality and streaming capabilities of the digital device. They mention that it provides a good value for money, the responsiveness is quick and efficient, and the apps load quickly. They are also happy with performance, and ease of installation. However, some customers disagree on quality and connectivity.

AI-generated from the text of customer reviews

Customers like the performance of the digital device. They mention that it performs satisfactorily, is pleased with the functionality it provides, and has amazing performance. Some appreciate the enhanced performance and stability that Wi-Fi 6 provides. They also mention that the device is easy to set up and operate.

"...Value for Money: Considering the quality, performance , and access to a vast library of content, the Fire TV Stick 4K offers incredible value for..." Read more

"...It’s easier to use. The app for fioptics works fine exactly like my TiVo co box. Can’t save on it. I did not see a record button...." Read more

"...any happier, this past Sunday, it started right up but could not get anything to work after that...." Read more

"...Went to use my old one and got an error message. This one works great . Easy to install and set up. Easy to navigate...." Read more

Customers find the installation of the digital device to be easy. They mention that it's very easy to set up, use, and program the remote. They also say that it easily connects to the screen and does exactly as it should. Customers also say it'll navigate through movies and shows than the previous version.

"...It's intuitive and user-friendly, making it easy to navigate through the vast content library. The voice remote with Alexa is a game-changer...." Read more

"...But Amazon really makes it easy to set up among its products. By the way, Samsung tv’s in 2017 did not allow fioptics app on their tvs...." Read more

"...Contains all my favorite streaming apps. Easy to apply the remote control features following the instructions on the screen...." Read more

"...fire stick makes it easy to find what you’re looking for with its easy to use menu and voice search feature. The voice feature is awesome...." Read more

Customers like the speed of the digital device. They say it's much faster, responsive, and efficient. They also say the apps load quickly and switching between content is seamless. Some mention that it boots at least twice as fast and works well. Overall, customers are happy with the performance and say it solves all of the loading issues they were having.

"... Apps load quickly , and switching between content is seamless. The device has handled everything I’ve thrown at it without any lag...." Read more

"...Found my cable provider to download and it works fast . Have all my paid apps and free apps. Amazon even provides a live tv. But mostly fix stuff...." Read more

"...The responsiveness is quick and efficient ...." Read more

"...That’s me!The performance is great . The picture quality is awesome, and I haven't experienced any lag or buffering issues...." Read more

Customers appreciate the value of the digital device. They mention it provides a good value for money, is worth the buy, and saves them a lot of money. They also say it's easy to install and use, and is cheap to replace. Customers say it is a great purchase for their home and allows access to all the streaming apps. They say the free content is the best part.

"...to a vast library of content, the Fire TV Stick 4K offers incredible value for money ...." Read more

"...it just might be the Altafiber fiber optics company. But the product is good ...." Read more

"...I would be spending and chose accordingly so this one provided a good value for money while meeting my needs." Read more

"...This was a great purchase for my home and it allows access to all the streaming apps I use. The price can’t be beat.So long, cable TV!" Read more

Customers are satisfied with the picture quality of the digital device. They mention that it has stunning picture quality, clear, bright, and rich in color. They are also impressed with the video quality, saying that it's crisp and clear.

"...of the essence with streaming devices, and the Fire TV Stick 4K doesn’t disappoint . Apps load quickly, and switching between content is seamless...." Read more

"...That’s me!The performance is great. The picture quality is awesome , and I haven't experienced any lag or buffering issues...." Read more

"...With support for 4K Ultra HD , HDR, and Dolby Atmos audio, you'll feel like you're right in the middle of the action from the comfort of your own..." Read more

"...It has a good picture on ordinary rental TVs . It was easy to set up at home before we took it on its first trip...." Read more

Customers are satisfied with the streaming capabilities of the digital device. They mention that it has impressive streaming capabilities, and the features are the very best for streaming. They say that the streaming is seamless, easy to navigate, and able to enjoy streaming live TV, latest movies, and TV shows. They also appreciate the great streaming quality, and say that switching between menus and different streaming options is nearly instantaneous.

"...to the all-new Amazon Fire TV Stick 4K, and it has completely transformed my streaming experience ...." Read more

"...movies and TV episodes, support for Wi-Fi 6, and the ability to watch free and live TV , this powerful device offers endless entertainment options in..." Read more

"...The streaming and video quality is excellent ...However:The bad thing is that the audio/ sound quality is horrible...." Read more

Customers are mixed about the quality of the digital device. Some mention that the quality, performance, and access to a clear internet is excellent. They also say that the hardware is great, but the software and screen can be annoying. However, others say that they order a new remote often, they don't last long, and that there are occasional streaming glitches.

"...Value for Money: Considering the quality , performance, and access to a vast library of content, the Fire TV Stick 4K offers incredible value for..." Read more

"...So one stick in one tv and two remotes working it. One stick dead ...." Read more

"...The available content is surprising ...." Read more

"...It was pitiful with the original Fire Stick ...." Read more

Customers have mixed opinions about the connectivity of the digital device. Some mention that the Bluetooth connects immediately, it is capable of connecting to 5G Wi-Fi, and it connects to their TV without much of a hassle. However, others say that they had issues pairing with their TV and having issues with the remote connectivity.

"...Now no connectivity on the new stick and the new remote works on the older stick in my bedroom. So one stick in one tv and two remotes working it...." Read more

"...Extras: One of my favorite features is the ability to use Bluetooth headphones for private listening ...." Read more

"...This new one is fast, fast, fast. The remote didn't "attach" very smoothly , so I mostly just use the old remote, but I can pretty much use either..." Read more

"...They will start buffering and losing internet connectivity . Not a huge deal if you know what to expect and they are cheap to replace...." Read more

Reviews with images

• Sort reviews by Top reviews Most recent Top reviews

Top reviews from the United States

There was a problem filtering reviews right now. please try again later..

• Amazon Newsletter
• About Amazon
• Accessibility
• Sustainability
• Press Center
• Investor Relations
• Amazon Devices
• Amazon Science
• Sell on Amazon
• Sell apps on Amazon
• Supply to Amazon
• Protect & Build Your Brand
• Become an Affiliate
• Become a Delivery Driver
• Start a Package Delivery Business
• Advertise Your Products
• Self-Publish with Us
• Become an Amazon Hub Partner
• › See More Ways to Make Money
• Amazon Visa
• Amazon Store Card
• Amazon Secured Card
• Amazon Business Card
• Shop with Points
• Credit Card Marketplace
• Reload Your Balance
• Amazon Currency Converter
• Your Account
• Your Orders
• Shipping Rates & Policies
• Amazon Prime
• Returns & Replacements
• Manage Your Content and Devices
• Recalls and Product Safety Alerts
• Conditions of Use
• Privacy Notice
• Consumer Health Data Privacy Disclosure
• Your Ads Privacy Choices

site categories

Embracer sees entertainment unit sales drop but predicts ‘lord of the rings’ ip will be “key driver in the coming decades”, breaking news.

• Genre-Busting Writer Akela Cooper Is Twisting The Rules On Horror: “I Am Trailblazing For Those Who Want To Do This As A Career”

By Destiny Jackson

Destiny Jackson

Awards Writer

More Stories By Destiny

• Showrunner Russell T. Davies On Ushering An Inclusive Era Of ‘Doctor Who’
• ‘The Morning Show’ Showrunner Charlotte Stoudt Teases Season 4 & Talks How The Series Stays Relevant — Contenders TV 

Related Stories

Universal Dates 'Five Nights At Freddy's 2,' 'Woman In The Yard' & 'Drop'; 'The Black Phone', 'M3GAN' Sequels Pushed

'Ahsoka's Ivanna Sakhno To Co-Star Opposite Allison Williams In Atomic Monster & Blumhouse's 'M3GAN 2.0'

“Horror speaks to me in ways other genres don’t,” Cooper says. “And I think it’s because horror and sci-fi allow you to address real-world issues with a kind of shiny veneer that allows you to have a message without people feeling like it’s preachy.” Specifically, Cooper cites an influential episode, “A Town has Turned to Dust,” written by Rod Serling from the 1950s CBS anthology series Playhouse 90 , as a stepping stone for her tonality in balancing between sci-fi, horror and social commentary. “Originally, he wanted to do a TV movie about the killing of Emmett Till, and at the time, CBS was like, ‘Fuck no, you’re not going to do that.’ So, he took that story and set it as a Western with a Mexican kid at the center. But it was still the same story, but because it was removed with that genre veil, he still got the message that he wanted to get out anyway,” Cooper explains. “You get to do crazy shit in sci-fi and horror, as long as you have the rules that you follow—and those are fun.” 

With two viral cult hit features under her belt, Malignant and M3GAN , made in collaboration with heralded minimalist horror writer-director James Wan , Cooper is not only having fun but is also twisting the rules on a well-worn horror genre, the B-movie. It’s not typical for B-movies to elicit emotion. The low-budget films were initially conceptualized for quick, consumable entertainment and scares, not longevity. However, Cooper managed to infuse and maintain the essence while also pushing the boundaries of the genre.  

“Elevated horror is still the acceptable horror right now. We’ve punched some holes in that with Malignant and M3GAN to make way for B-movies, which I was happy with,” Cooper explains.  “You got stuff like Barbarian and Smile , which was half elevated, half B-movie, monster movie, which was cool. Right now, the market seems like a 60/40 split for elevated versus traditional B-horror movie tendencies.” 

Though B-movies aren’t a new phenomenon, Cooper does acknowledge the unique element in her projects that not only translates to box office success but also leaves a lasting cultural imprint.  “I think people are responding to the fun because, for a long time, elevated horror was the horror. And I’m by no means shitting on elevated horror, but Hereditary is a damn good horror movie, but it’s not fun. And I think what I was missing was that sense of renting videos and then watching them with your friends at 2:00 A.M., and just being scared shitless and giggling and enjoying the craziness of the movie,” she says. “I think audiences responded to Malignant and M3GAN in that way because it’s a fun, communal horror experience when you start to see M3GAN singing Titanium, and you’re not the only one in the theater going, ‘What the fuck? This is funny.’ The great thing about horror is that it’s a community. And I think audiences are responding to the B-movie fun of what I hope I am bringing to horror.” 

That’s not the only thing that also makes Cooper special. Being a Black woman in a space where few women exist has made her a standout. The last three years have seen a small handful of Black female horror writer-directors release films backed by major studios, with Nia DaCosta’s 2021 remake of Candyman and 2022 saw the release of two radically tinged societal thinkers in Mariama Diallo’s Master and Nikyatu Jusu’s Nanny . “There’s a bit of gatekeeping from boys who consider making horror their space and only seeing women as victims or final girls to be slaughtered or saved on screen as they see fit,” Cooper shares when asked why she thinks there is a lack of women in the horror field. “I kind of liken that to how society sees female sexuality, and when women own their sexuality, people freak the fuck out. Women creating horror is kind of a way of channeling our deeply violent impulses and fantasies, and society is always like, ‘Women shouldn’t have violent fantasies, what the hell?’” 

Cooper’s achievements have established her as a trailblazer, as she’s already solidified her status as a formidable force within the horror genre. In doing so, she’s defied the odds, navigating the complexities of being both Black and a woman in a field long dominated by men. She continues, hoping to have “opened the door for more people to get the opportunity.” Cooper also says, “I shouldn’t be a trailblazer at this point in the industry of Hollywood. It’s sad that I am in that way, but I am happy that I am trailblazing for those who want to do this as a career and know that it is possible to do this as a career if this is your passion. I’ve been on a couple of panels at conventions where there were young Black women in the audience who had no idea that I was a Black woman like them. Then they would approach me afterward and say, ‘I didn’t know I could write horror.’ It always blows my mind when I have those encounters. I’m always encouraging people. It’s like, ‘Yes, Black people, Black women, we can write whatever we want. Just write what you love.” 

Must Read Stories

Sundance picks 15 cities to bid for potential move amid “team effort” to keep fest.

Apple Sued By ‘Killers Of The Flower Moon’ Costume Designer For Discrimination

‘count of monte-cristo’ receives nearly 12-minute ovation at premiere, watch deadline’s latest exclusive interviews from the croisette.

Subscribe to Deadline Breaking News Alerts and keep your inbox happy.

Read More About:

Deadline is a part of Penske Media Corporation. © 2024 Deadline Hollywood, LLC. All Rights Reserved.