Sunday, November 21, 2021

CANDYMAN (August 2021)


CANDYMAN
(August 2021)

Are you ready for the sacrament?”

The early ‘90’s pre-Scream period saw cinematic horror do some interesting things, like masquerade under the guise of tragic, inevitably doomed romances, its darker, malevolent streak secreted beneath the more palatable facades of love stories.
One such notable title is Francis Ford Coppola’s exquisite phantasmagoria, Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992).
Another from the same year, is Bernard Rose’s Candyman.
 
“It was the projects. Affordable housing that had a particularly bad reputation.”
“You would never know.”
“Yeah, because they tore it down and gentrified the sh!t out of it.”
“Translation: White people built the ghetto, and then erased it when they realized they built the ghetto.”
 
Adapted from Clive Barker’s Books of Blood short story, “The Forbidden,” Rose’s Candyman transplanted the narrative’s action from England’s council estates to America’s housing projects, grafting themes of racism and gentrification (among others) onto the source material, like wallpaper of a very particular pattern laid over the original story’s structure.
Nia DaCosta’s Candyman has these same preoccupations, serving as both a deeper exploration of the original adaptation’s thematics, as well as a continuation of its central narrative.
 
“Some of the things that have happened in Cabrini over the years, violence just so extreme, so bizarre… It’s almost as if violence became the ritual.
“The worst part… the residents are afraid to call the police. A code of honor perhaps, fear of the police themselves…
“The easy answer is always, ‘Candyman did it.’”
 
DaCosta’s story (the screenplay is credited to her and co-writers Jordan Peele and Win Rosenfeld) revolves around Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s Anthony, an up-and-coming artist badly in need of inspiration, which he finds in the gruesome urban folklore tale of the Candyman.


“I am the writing on the walls. I am the sweet smell of blood on the street. The buzz that echoes in the alleyways.”
 
Now, as is usual ‘round these parts, I’ll refrain from saying anything more in terms of the plot.
What I believe I can say though, is, just as Rose’s Candyman, despite appearances, didn’t play the way a “regular” slasher film does, neither does DaCosta’s.
And though there is a romantic component to the narrative, it isn’t as central as it was in Rose’s original, which was decidedly a love story, about the love between man and woman, between killer and victim, between deity and worshipper.
DaCosta’s take is more interested in community and legacy and who has ultimate control over society’s grand narrative, pulling its camera back so its lens can take in more of the macro, as opposed to the personal intimacy Rose’s dark love story evinced.
 
“When something leaves a stain, even if you wash it out, it’s still there. You can feel it, a, uh, uh, uh, uh, a thinning, deep in the fabric.
“This neighborhood got caught in a loop! The sh!t got stained in the exact same spot over and over ’til it finally rotted from the inside out!”
 
Ultimately, this new Candyman is a worthy successor to Rose’s original adaptation, and like it, is the kind of horror I treasure, the kind that has Something to say.
And DaCosta and company say it very well indeed…
So if this all sounds like horror to suit your tastes as well, then by all means, check it out…
 
And, oh yes…
Say his name…
 
Yeah, yeah, yeah, who can take tomorrow,
Dip it in a dream,
Separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream?
Dip it in a dream,
Separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream?
The Candy Man…
The Candy Man can…
--“The Candy Man”
   Sammy Davis Jr.

Parting Shot: Since the art world also plays a central role in its narrative, Velvet Buzzsaw makes an excellent double feature with this particular Candyman.
  
(Candyman OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

Saturday, November 13, 2021

WITCH HUNT (March 2021)

WITCH HUNT
(March 2021)


/ ‘wiCH, hunt/, Noun
  1. A search for, and subsequent persecution of persons accused of witchcraft.
  2. A campaign directed against a person, or group, holding unorthodox or unpopular views, usually based on slight, doubtful, or irrelevant evidence.
Witch Hunt’s harrowing opening quickly tips the viewer off to the fact that they’re now in the middle of an alternate history:
 
A world where witches are real, and are hounded by the Bureau of Witch Investigations (the BWI), modern-day witch hunters all too ready to strike a match so they can “stop hysteria and uphold the law”;
 
A world where the threat of Proposition 6, the Witch List Act (AKA Prop 6) looms.
Its full title: the Control, Regulate, and Restrict Potential Witchcraft Act, meant to “restrict the rights of blood relatives of convicted witches”;
 
A world where the particular combination of one’s genes potentially carries a death sentence.
 
Working against this system is Elizabeth Mitchell’s Martha Goode, a widow who helps smuggle witches to safety.
In this world’s parlance, Martha is a “harborer”, which makes her life and that of her children a daily tightrope of secrets and subterfuge.
 
“Did you see the way that they looked at me? How am I supposed to control something that I’m not even allowed to practice?
“And why does it have to be bad?
“I’m not bad…
“I’m not bad!”
 
Witch Hunt is writer/director Elle Callahan’s sophomore feature, on the heels of her excellent ¡Q horror! 2019 title, Head Count.
It’s a brilliant and powerful follow-up that brings a very different kind of horror from that of Head Count, to the screen.
 
A piece like Witch Hunt can be a particularly potent narrative because, like comic book tales of the X-Men, it’s the kind of story where the persecuted minority--whether witches or mutants--can be swapped out for any number of real-life discriminated groups.
It’s a fictional reflection of the hardships that some people--through no fault or choice of their own--are subjected to, simply due to the color of their skin, or their gender.
 
It’s the kind of troubling, uncomfortable horror that critiques the very real-life systems we all find ourselves slaved to.
It’s the kind of horror that asks, So then, what are you going to do about it?
 
“So, vote ‘Yes’ on Prop 6, and keep our streets safe from anyone with magic in their blood.
“No magic is good magic.”
 
(Witch Hunt OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

Friday, November 5, 2021

THE NIGHT HOUSE (January 2020)

THE NIGHT HOUSE
(January 2020)


TRICK IT, DON’T LISTEN TO IT
 
In The Night House--David Bruckner’s follow-up to The Ritual--Rebecca Hall plays recently widowed Beth Parchin, whose barely bottled-up anger at the sudden and initially inexplicable death of her husband gradually erodes in the face of a dark and sinister mystery.
 
It’s a testament to the skills and talent of Bruckner and Hall, as well as the elegant screenplay by Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski (all four are also Executive Producers on this), that The Night House remains compelling and absorbing, as said mystery slowly unpacks itself over the course of the film’s running time.
 
It’s also a sneaky one, this, its largely serene and placid façade belying a cold cruelty beating at its core, the action onscreen the calm surface beneath which vicious riptides and undertows swirl.
Or, to use another apt metaphor, our eyes are drawn to the beauty of the structure, which only serves to mask the cold, blank hollows at its foundation.
 
This is quite possibly the most gently nihilistic horror film I’ve come across.
It doesn’t hold the audience’s hand, nor does it offer any comforting, yet ultimately hollow platitudes regarding existence and mortality.
 
If this sounds like the kind of horror you’re in the mood for, then by all means, please step into The Night House.
Just be sure to leave the door open, in case you decide on a hasty retreat…
 
“Makes you wonder though, doesn’t it? What else didn’t I know?”
 
Parting Shot:
The fact that architecture and geometric spaces play a not insignificant part in The Night House bodes well for the Hellraiser reboot Bruckner is currently in post-production on, from a screenplay credited to Collins, Piotrowski, and David Goyer (also, incidentally enough, a producer on The Night House).
Plus! Jamie Clayton as Pinhead!
 
(The Night House OS courtesy of impawards.com.)