🪞 CANDYMAN (2021) 🐝

“Say his name… again. And again. And oh wait, it’s not the same guy?”


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🎞️ Let’s start by showing y’all the trailers, shall we?

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📜 Non-Spoiler Plot Overview

So it’s 2021. The world’s a mess. Gentrification is out of control, the housing market is demonic, and someone decided, “Let’s make a new Candyman… but make it existential.”

We follow visual artist Anthony McCoy, whose obsession with the urban legend of Candyman leads him down a rabbit hole of trauma, reflection, and body horror. He learns the story, gets stung (literally and metaphorically), and slowly becomes a new version of the legend.

Yes, you heard that right. This time, Candyman isn’t just Tony Todd’s tragic icon — it’s a mantle. A legacy. A multiverse of murderers.
(Spiderman voice: “Anyone can wear the hook.”)


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🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Character Rundown

Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) – Artist with trauma, bees, and a slowly rotting body.

Brianna (Teyonah Parris) – His girlfriend and art curator, who actually has the common sense the movie desperately needs.

William Burke (Colman Domingo) – A laundromat owner who knows way too much about Candyman and may or may not be auditioning for cult leader.

Sherman Fields – This film’s new Candyman. A misunderstood man murdered by cops who becomes the latest face of the legend.

OG Candyman / Daniel Robitaille – Still here… in spirit. And bees.



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⏱️ Pacing / Episode Flow

Starts stylish and slow. You’re thinking: “Oh hey, this is artsy, this is deep, this is—wait why is he peeling his skin off like it’s wrapping paper?”
Act 2 spirals hard into body horror, and Act 3 goes full vengeance mythos. The film knows it’s making a statement and it leans into that. At times, it leans so far it nearly falls over — but it sticks the landing.

It’s like watching a horror film wrapped in a museum exhibit wrapped in a punch to the face.


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✅ Pros

The shadow puppet sequences? GORGEOUS. Best storytelling device in the whole film.

Social commentary lands (mostly). It hits police violence, systemic racism, and gentrification with boldness.

Score and sound design? Haunting. Creepy vocal motifs and ambient dread.

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II commits HARD.

It doesn’t ignore the original film — it builds on it. That’s rare.



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❌ Cons

The biggest flaw? This ain’t Daniel Robitaille’s movie. He’s barely in it.

Instead, we get Sherman Fields, and while his backstory is valid and tragic, it ain’t what we came for.

The Candyman-as-legacy idea is neat but confusing. You’ll need a flowchart.

The final act tries to say so much in so little time that it feels rushed.

There are moments where the theme overshadows the scare.

🔪 Segment 1 – “Retcon? More Like Wreck-Con”

Let’s talk about how this film completely rewrites the Candyman mythos like it’s applying a patch update.

In the original lore, Candyman was Daniel Robitaille — a singular, tragic figure wronged by racism and violence, doomed to become an urban legend. His vengeance was personal. His story had weight. He was one terrifying hook-handed icon with a backstory that haunted you.

But in 2021? Apparently Candyman is now a viral curse. Like… a bee-infested STD. Pass it on.

Now anyone who dies unjustly can become “a Candyman,” which retroactively turns the legend into some kind of spiritual franchise model.
You get a Candyman! You get a Candyman! Everyone’s a Candyman!

This change dilutes what made the original terrifying — the intimacy of Daniel’s wrath, the focused pain behind every kill.
Now? It’s like a rotating shift schedule of spectral interns with a hook.

🪞 Segment 2 – “Paging Candyman… Any Day Now…”

And here’s the real tragedy — we barely get any damn Candyman.

Like sure, the mirror tricks are stylish, and the camera work is all vibey and “elevated horror,” but the film is so obsessed with building up to Candyman that it forgets to, y’know… have him in the movie.

Tony Todd? Shows up at the end for like 10 seconds, almost as an apology.

The rest of the runtime is a slow-burn identity crisis. It’s like watching a guy train to be Candyman. Imagine going to a Jason Voorhees movie and the whole thing is just him learning to swim.

We don’t fear Candyman because of his lore alone — we fear him because of what he does.
And in this one? He’s basically off-screen, chilling in the back, waiting for the last 5 minutes to clock in.




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💬 Final Thoughts

This isn’t a remake. It’s a spiritual sequel. It’s bold, messy, beautiful, and just a little broken — like the mirror you’d say his name in.
It follows the Grudge 2020 method: change the ghost, keep the concept. Except this time, it’s a mantle passed down through Black trauma and violence, and that’s powerful.
But man, some of us just wanted Tony Todd to rip people in half again.

Also I’m not saying this film is perfect, because it isn’t. But I still enjoyed it.

⭐️ Rating

9/10
(It’s bold. It’s brutal. But no Tony until the end? That’s a minus 1 star, sorry not sorry.)



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⚠️ Spoiler Warning

Y’all know what this section is. If you keep reading, you’re gonna hear about bee stings, skin rot, generational ghost trauma, and a surprise Tony Todd cameo that made me yell “FINALLY!”


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🩸 Spoilers

Anthony’s slow transformation into Candyman starts with a bee sting. Just one. But that thing festers like cursed meat, and soon he’s peeling, hallucinating, and painting like a man possessed — because he IS.

Turns out, Sherman Fields was a kind man murdered by cops in the 70s after being falsely accused of giving candy to kids with razors in it. He becomes the new Candyman spirit haunting the housing projects of Cabrini-Green. And now the legend wants Anthony to be the next one.

William Burke, the laundromat owner? Yeah, he’s NOT just a side character. He orchestrates the whole thing. He cuts off Anthony’s hand, sticks a hook in it, dresses him up like a vintage murder doll, and literally summons the police so they can kill him and let the legend live on.

AND IT WORKS.
The cops shoot Anthony. Then try to gaslight Brianna.

So Brianna, being a boss, says Candyman’s name five times in the mirror inside the police car. And guess who shows up?

Not Sherman. Not some blurry ghost. No no — it’s TONY. FREAKING. TODD.

Looking youthful. Glowing. Bee magic anti-aging serum or something.
He shows up, floats like a ghostly vengeance mosquito, and SLAYS. Cops get hooked left and right. He whispers to Brianna, “Tell everyone.”
Boom. New legend. New Candyman. Old actor. GOOSEBUMPS.