Last Updated on August 2, 2021
THE BLACK SHEEP is an ongoing column featuring different takes on films that either the writer HATED, but that the majority of film fans LOVED, or that the writer LOVED, but that most others LOATH. We’re hoping this column will promote constructive and geek fueled discussion. Dig in!
CANDYMAN: DAY OF THE DEAD (1999)
DIRECTED BY TURI MEYER
So let’s hear it, folks, how do we feel about the trailer for Jordan Peele’s CANDYMAN re-launch that hit the web late last week? Are we pumped? Deflated? Apathetic? Share with us your level of enthusiasm below!
In the meantime, I’ll be as blunt as a Snoop Dog smoke break. I never thought the CANDYMAN franchise deserved extinction after the third entry, DAY OF THE DEAD, released in 1999. Is it a good film? F*ck no. Is it scary? Not really. But is it so much worse than FAREWELL TO THE FLESH that it deserved to exile the series to a two-decade stint in max-security movie jail? Again, f*ck no! I realize I’m on an island here, as even Candyman himself, the great Tony Todd, publicly announced in 2008 that he did not care for the film. And of course, CANDYMAN 3 is the only film in the franchise to suffer a direct-to-video fate in the US, UK and AU, all but admitting inferiority and cementing the end of the Polygram cash-cow. And why not? The film supposedly reduced the sharp intellect of the original down to dully formulaic slasher cheapie. But so what? Point is, I’ve always liked DAY OF THE DEAD more than most, more than I expected to given its insipid predecessor (which tries way too hard to recreate the original), and even perhaps more than I should as an adult horror head who knows better. Yet still, here are the reasons why CANDYMAN: DAY OF THE DEAD is a F*cking Black Sheep!
Aptly set in 2020, 25 years after the events of FAREWELL TO THE FLESH, CANDYMAN 3 moves from Chi-Town (OG) to the Big Easy (part 2) to East Los Angeles. Despite sounding like the title ripped-off a Romero franchise, the subtitle DAY OF THE DEAD refers to Dia De Los Muertos, the Mexican celebration of death as a part of life. Right off the bat, I dig the connection attempted to be made between this macabre holiday, which often comes with festive sweets, candies and other edible confections – and Candyman himself, which, in this movie, could be read as the ghostly manifestation of said holiday. The evidence isn’t made all that strong in the film beyond the sweetness of the honeycomb painted on the face of Candyman’s own visage and that of his victims to attract bees, but I always appreciated the loose connective tissue between the villain and the holiday setting in which he’s ultimately set free to wreak gory havoc. And boy does this mother*cker ever!
Story-wise, the plot kicks up when Caroline (the unfairly gorgeous Playboy Playmate Donna D’Errico, who’s mere presence is too magnetically illecebrous to ignore, look away from, or to deign root against), an art gallery owner in L.A. who happens to be the great-granddaughter of Candyman, aka Daniel Robitaille, begins having tormenting visions of the hook-handed horror. Caroline explains the lore of Candyman to her best friend, Tamara (Alexia Robinson), informing us that Mr. Hook is out to claim her soul since she’s a kindred spirit of his. When Caroline’s art pals uncover Robitaille’s lost paintings and prop the Candyman art in her gallery, Candyman begins savagely slaughtering those who either disrespect his work or unwisely utter his name in quintuplicate. First up, Caroline’s artist friend Miguel (Mark Adair-Rios), who catches a giant pissed-off hook plum through the navel until a fountain of grue plashes the paintings framed on the wall.
Before we get to the gory blitzes of abject carnage, which are no doubt the film’s best attributes, it’s worth drilling down on this story. Another part of the flick I always dug and thought got short shrift is the inclusion of such prominent Mexican characters and how they interact not so much with Candyman but to their own Day of the Dead, as well as the intolerant and abusive L.A. cops. Talk about timely. Set 20 years into the future, the prescience of this racial dynamic is pretty damn accurate when watching it in 2020. When Caroline enlists the help of David (Jsu Garcia, aka Rod from the OG ELM STREET…the surrealism of which the movie also shares. This makes sense considering Meyer got the job by directing DREAMSTALKER featuring a villain called the Sandman), he doesn’t turn to the police but rather seeks guidance from his spiritual healer Abuela (Lupe Ontiveros). He does this because he knows the police will not help, and likely blame him for endangering the rich pretty white girl.
When Candyman descends on them both, David implicitly knows not to trust police Det. Sam Kraft (Wade Williams), who is so openly racist and baldly prejudiced against damn near all native East Los Angelinos that we come to root for his swift demise (which we gloriously get). This leaves David left to other options of protection, which inherently increases the drama. What I’m saying is this: for a supposed throwaway B-movie franchise sequel, there is far more social commentary woven into the script co-written by Al Spetien and director Turi Meyer than you’d expect, the veracity of which has only grown more salient since 1999. Now, is this kind of observations necessary for a horror movie to be scary? Probably not. However, since this movie takes place in 2020, it’s interesting to note that when seen now, how trenchant and prophetic the commentary actually proves to be. The various levels of villainy in the film are interesting. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but in terms of the subtext, DAY OF THE DEAD was ahead of its time!
But let’s be real. Where I believe DAY OF THE DEAD has been most underrated and overlooked is in Candyman’s homicidal handy-work, his proud collection of steaming entrails, bubbling guts, eviscerated organs, and gorily lopped-off extremities. Well, that, and the kickass abandoned building setting which houses the final 20 minutes or so. The hard cement and cold bluish hues and striking spires of light pouring into the building to illuminate the sick wall-to-wall graffiti really add to the horror of the action in the final reel. But even before we get there, my man gorily plunges and impales his trusty hook through backs and out of the sternum, hook-slashes throats, viciously gores Tamara’s stomach until a blood-puddle rains below, and explodes liquid entrails of Det. Sacco (Robert O’Reilly) up into the windshield of a cop car. Later, Candyman vitiates a gang of eight inside the aforesaid building where Caroline is held captive. Sure the dialogue escalates to eye-rolling lunacy during this segment, delivered with more than dubious acting, but the sheer entertainment value is too damn good to deny. The end result is a respectable and a franchise-high of 16 fatalities over 93 minutes, equating to roughly one death per six minutes of screen time.
Look, I can’t in good faith argue that CANDYMAN: DAY OF THE DEAD is a high-quality film. I can say I enjoyed it way more than expected, and probably even a bit better than Bill Condon’s more expensive FAREWELL TO THE FLESH, which is really just an ersatz version of the original. Part three has solid characters we need to see more of in prominent roles (minorities), a foretelling subtextual thesis, a breezily entertaining pace, sick settings and locations, and most valuable for me, a skein of grisly murders exacted by one of the all-time coolest horror villains in Tony Todd as the titular terror. What the hell else do you need?
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