The film stars Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (Watchmen) as Anthony McCoy, Teyonah Parris (WandaVision) as Brianna Cartwright, Colman Domingo (Zola) as William Burke, and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (MisFits) as Troy Cartwright. Vanessa Estelle Williams (The Flash) as Anne-Marie McCoy and Tony Todd as the titular Candyman reprise their roles, along with the voice of Virginia Madsen (The Haunting in Connecticut), featured in recordings as Helen Lyle, the protagonist from the 1992 original. 

Set in the Cabrini-Green Homes of Chicago, the film opens in 1977, to the tune of Sammy Davis Jr.’s 1972 version of “The Candy Man.” William, a young Black boy, encounters the man dubbed the Candyman, who police have been looking for in connection to razor-blade-filled candy. William witnesses officers brutally beat the man to death.

In 2019, a now gentrified Cabrini-Green is home to artist Anthony and his art gallerist girlfriend Brianna. Her brother Troy employs the essential campfire tale aesthetic to tell the story of Helen Lyle, a graduate student who went on a killing spree after researching the neighborhood’s haunted history.

Intrigued by Troy’s story, Anthony goes to explore the neighborhood, which now has the eerie quietness of a ghost town. He meets a grown-up William, now going by his last name Burke. Burke tells Anthony all about the legend of Daniel Robitaille, a Black painter in the late 1800s who fell in love with a wealthy white woman, got her pregnant and was subsequently tortured and killed. This sequence appears in the original film, showing a group of white men cutting off Robitaille’s hand, replacing it with a hook, and covering him in honey, leading to him being stung to death by bees.

Even though he lives there (albeit in a luxury loft), Anthony is an outsider like Helen. He feels drawn to the story but doesn’t quite belong in it…yet. Anthony is inspired by the Candyman folklore, but this connection goes beyond being a muse and becomes a dangerous obsession. 

Much to the disappointment of horror fans, the film has few scares. None of the murders are surprising or innovative, though there is a healthy dose of body horror (particularly the aftermath of a bee sting on Anthony’s hand). The film has a sense of foreboding, but nothing as chilling as the original.

Comparisons to the original come naturally, as do comparisons to other Black horror films and TV shows. It’s not fair to view Peele’s continued work, or any Black horror film in general, in contrast to Get Out. Not everything needs to be the next Get Out. Setting this precedent is another form of stereotyping Black artists, trying to put them in a box.

Artists continue to use the horror genre as a tool for healing. Candyman explores the pain of Black trauma but keeps it at a distance. Instead of flashbacks, DaCosta creatively uses Tim Burton-esque shadow-puppetry to act out the history of Robitaille as well as other victims of racial violence. The result is creepy and one of the highlights of the film.

DaCosta’s version balances real and imagined horror. Candyman isn’t a singular figure, but rather only one of the many victims of racial violence. The plot adds to the original mythology, but the runtime isn’t long enough to dig deeper into it. An extra 20–30 minutes would have given the story the time to explore the mythology in-depth and make more of an impact with the new information presented.

A longer runtime would also have allowed Anthony’s descent to be less immediate. Like Jack Nicholson’s interpretation of Jack Torrance in The Shining, there’s already a sense of underlying darkness in Anthony. He devolves quickly, and his change in behavior almost goes unnoticed at first. He’s an angry artist tired of his work being criticized and misunderstood by white critics. His desire for recognition bleeds into his transformation, making it almost expected and logical.

But maybe the film is saying that Black people are ignored until they can be sensationalized. A Black artist is widely accepted once their art makes sense to a white audience. As William says to Anthony, “They like what we make, but not us.”

DaCosta’s film stands out as a sleek, stylized take on the Candyman lore. While it may not be what horror fans had hoped, it still makes an impression. Unfortunately, the story suffered from a rushed structure. It does set up the possibility of a sequel or even a new franchise. Overall, Candyman is a beautifully shot film that offers an expanded mythology through a Black lens. 

Candyman hits theaters August 27.

The film stars a mix of new faces and seasoned actors with Kofi Siriboe (Queen Sugar) as Isaiah, Yootha Wong-Loi-Sing (Black Lightning) as Stevie, Uzo Aduba (Mrs. America) as Chenai, and Michael Ealy (For Colored Girls) as Yusef.

When Isaiah, an emerging artist in the Washington, DC, art scene, meets the alluring Stevie, a law student at Georgetown, at his art show, there’s an instant connection. “Black people are extraordinary and normal at the same time,” she says while admiring one of his pieces. The moment they share is brief but leaves a lasting impression. Not long after this, they find themselves together again on a night out with mutual friends. 

Consumed by insecurities and disappointment, Isaiah struggles to make a living as a painter. He has the raw talent but lacks the focus. Isaiah’s mentor Yusef Davis and his agent Chenai have minor roles but bring the guidance to Isaiah’s life that he desperately needs to become a great artist.

Stevie is unsure of her desire and motivation to pursue law and starts to question the trajectory of her career. She’s drawn to Isaiah’s creativity and freedom to be bold and expressive. Their bond blossoms from infatuation into a love affair. As they each deal with their own inner conflict, they manage to come together and create something beautiful.

Both have disapproving parents who focus on acquiring financial success and projecting a professional image rather than finding true love and happiness. Isaiah’s family is working-class while Stevie comes from an upper-class, wealthy family. It’s interesting to see how people on both ends of the economic spectrum share the same ideology of success.

Isaiah’s struggle to find recognition bruises his ego. He’s embarrassed by the power imbalance in their relationship stemming from Stevie’s inherited wealth. He pulls away from her when he’s stressed because he doesn’t want her help and is determined to find success on his own. When he eventually starts to get noticed, Stevie fades into the background. Their shared uncertainties and familial pressures draw them together but ultimately get in the way of their relationship. Being in love and putting yourself before your partner is tricky even for the most dedicated couples. 

The chemistry between Siriboe and Wong-Loi-Sing is the heart of this film. Both actors are charismatic and attractive, and watching them together on screen is more than enjoyable. The sexual tension from a slow courtship is something not easily executed, but Williams and co-writer Felicia Pride (Queen Sugar) keep this love story moving at a pace that’s compelling. Every kiss and touch are fluid and intimate without being gratuitous or cheesy. 

According to Williams, the process of casting her leads was magical. Wong-Loi-Sing’s sultry voice and effortless elegance make Stevie a person anyone would fall for. Siriboe complements this with his natural coolness and intellect (like a significantly less aggressive version of Michael B. Jordan’s Erik Killmonger at the beginning of Black Panther).

Smooth is a word that encapsulates the visual essence of this film. There’s a cozy, artsy vibe in almost every scene, complete with mood lighting and the soothing sounds of jazz playing in the background. Even in a crowded club, the interactions between characters feel intimate. Director of photography Shawn Peters (Random Acts of Flyness) uses warm, rich tones of red, black, and gold that highlight the actors’ skin in a way that makes everyone look like a work of art. 

The film has an art gallery aesthetic bleeding into every space, featuring the work of Gerald Lovell, an artist known for his impastoed paintings of Black subjects. The gentrified Washington, DC, also plays an integral role in the film’s atmosphere. The couple takes dreamy walks around the city’s historical buildings and lush greenery.

The most striking aspect of Really Love is the simplicity of its plot. There’s nothing particularly new with this, but the richness of the characters and their surroundings make it an irresistible must-watch. It’s hard to believe that this is director Angel Kristi Williams’ first feature film.  

Financed and co-produced by MACRO, Really Love takes as a contemporary look at what it means to be in love and share a life with someone and grow together. Romance is a genre often occupied by rom-coms and steamy thrillers. It’s refreshing to see a beautiful love story between adults that’s realistic with elements of fantasy. 

Really Love premieres on Netflix on August 25th. 

While on a job in Vietnam, Moody, a contract killer, comes across the aftermath of a bloody massacre, and discovers a 12-year-old girl hiding in a closet armed and ready to shoot. Intrigued by her unusual gun skills, he takes the girl under his wing and raises her to be a killer as well (a protege, if you will). Thirty years later, Anna and Moody work together as assassins who pride themselves on only killing bad people who deserve it. Outside of the business of killing, the pair indulge in their passions: Anna manages an antique bookstore in London and Moody chills at his English home playing with drones and vintage guitars. When Moody starts investigating the whereabouts of the son of one of his many victims, he’s subsequently gunned down in his home. After finding her mentor and father figure murdered, Anna sets out on a revenge spree that takes her back to her native Vietnam to hunt down his killer.

The main theme is being able to confront our past. As Anna says, “We all have to pay for our sins eventually.” The truly compelling moments are flashes of Anna’s traumatic past and the beginning of Moody’s role as her protector. The film would be more emotionally engaging if the father-daughter connection between them was explored beyond the glimpses we’re given. There’s a more interesting story that exists before the events of this film that I would love to see play out on screen.

Anna first meets Rembrandt, a handsome, mysterious stranger, when he visits her store under the guise of an inquiring customer. We later learn that he is the cleanup killer for the man who ordered the hit on Moody. The reveal isn’t at all surprising since he instantly puts off wealthy villain vibes donning crisp suits and ascots. The two develop a consistent flirtation throughout the film based on their mutual curiosity and admiration for one another. Both are impressed by each other’s intellect and style, especially when it comes to violence. There’s not much of a “will they or won’t they,” but more of when will they, and which one will survive. Q and Keaton’s chemistry positively influences their quick-witted cat-and-mouse dynamic onscreen, but their dialogue consists of sarcastic quips that mostly fall flat and become cringey. One scene has Anna and Rembrandt holding guns to each other under a dining table while exchanging a combination of compliments and threats.

The actors are more intriguing than the characters they’re inhabiting. Jackson makes Moody enjoyable to watch with his effortless coolness and trademark expletives. Keaton is devilishly charming as always (especially as a villain). Without Q’s natural charm, Anna would be a one-dimensional assassin who enjoys killing men, wearing leather, and drinking martinis. Many have called her the female John Wick, but Maggie Q deserves more recognition than that. With a 20-year body of work, it’s hard to believe this is her first leading role in an action movie. It’s unfortunate she didn’t have more to work with in terms of story. However, her graceful hand-to-hand combat skills are put to good use.  

The action scenes are creative and nicely choreographed, but they get predictable after the first couple. There’s no sense of real danger because we know Anna is a badass killing machine who drops bodies like it’s second nature. That doesn’t make it any less entertaining to watch, but even though The Protégé earned itself an R-rating, it feels like the film’s holding back. Maggie Q does her best with what she’s given, but casting a skilled former mentee of Jackie Chan demands high stakes and visually intricate fight sequences.

Most audiences watch action movies simply for the epic fight scenes and explosions, and rarely is the plot expected to be nuanced or thought-provoking. This basic genre formula can get old. Unfortunately, The Protégé runs into this problem as well. There are at least three instances where characters casually threaten each other’s lives over the phone and reveal that they’re being watched, eliciting the classic “uh oh” reactions.

Overall, The Protégé doesn’t offer much more than a few cool fighting scenes. These powerhouse actors give the film life with their talent and chemistry, but the film sacrifices any emotional context, and fails to stand out amongst the crowded action genre. 

The Protégé is now in theaters.