Candyman: Farewell To the Flesh [1995]

Bernard Rose's Candyman, adapted from Clive Barker's short story 'The Forbidden', remains perhaps the best attempt at translating the author's distinctive tone to the cinema. It was also the most commercially successful. However, in the '90s, there is no such thing as a one-off horror hit and this effort [which scorns the use of a numeral in its title] is not merely an attempt to come up with a sequel to Candyman but a twisting of the premise into the blueprint for a potential franchise along the lines of the Nightmare on Elm Street or Hellraiser series.

Tony Todd's dignified, hollow-voiced, hook-handed urban legend is promoted to Fangoria coverboy status in the hope that he can take a place in the monster pantheon between Freddy Krueger and Hellraiser's Pinhead, which means the film has to be entirely structured around his appearances. Candyman, by contrast, was actually about the barely-mentioned Helen, played by the sorely-missed Virginia Madsen. The power of the monster was in his elusiveness, which is frittered away as he turns up every ten minutes to stick his hook into yet more disposable supporting stooges.

Even worse is the feebleness of the central thread. Faced with the need to come up with a plot that focuses on Candyman, screenwriters Ravich and Kruger have resorted to the most ancient, hackneyed and tiresome cliché of the genre: the monster's search for the reincarnation of his lost love [cf: The Mummy, Blacula, Bram Stoker's Dracula]. And it was all very well the first time round to recount one possible origin for Candyman, but quite another to use a prosaic enactment of his martyrdom [complete with cackling, honey-pouring rednecks] in lieu of a climax for this picture.

Bill Condon, screenwriter of the underrated Strange Behaviour and Strange Invaders, made a directing debut with Sister, Sister, an effective Southern gothic with Baby Jane level performances from Judith Ivey and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Clearly, this assignment is an attempt to gain a solid commercial credit before proceeding to more personal work: the dilapidated Southern mansion and plantation flashbacks are tangential spin-offs from Sister, Sister but hardly make much of an impression. Given the subtitle ['Carnival' means 'Farewell to the Flesh', loosely], the Mardi Gras setting is surprisingly throwaway though there is a running DJ commentary for all the world like Reservoir Dogs without the song rights clearances.

A few decent performers [Bill Nunn, Matt Clark, Veronica Cartwright] are underused while Kelly Rowan, last seen as the heroine of The Gate, isn't up to the femme role. Todd, whose character never seems to wonder whether or not murdering his prospective beloved's entire family will endear him to her, reacts to the star turn spotlight by exercising rather too much ham.
KIM NEWMAN

First Published In: Sight & Sound [issue unknown]

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