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Bloody Women

Bloody Women is a horror film journal committed to platforming viewpoints on horror cinema, TV and culture by women and non-binary writers.

Bloody Perfect: Sugar For my Honey

 
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By Isaura Barbé-Brown

Isaura Barbé-Brown brings us the next post in her new monthly column, Bloody Perfect.

With the release of Nia DaCosta’s new Candyman (2021) film, it made sense for me to do one or two (possibly three) rewatches of Candyman (1992). Watching this film as a teen was more than a cool thing to do, it was a rite of passage. As the legend of Candyman is passed on from generation to generation in the film, so was the film passed on from older to younger teens. A Chinese whisper of a movie that I couldn’t quite believe contained the scenes I was told it did, until I saw them with my very own eyes. 

The original film follows Helen Lyle (Virginia Madsen), a grad student researching local myths and legends in Chicago, stumbles upon the story of Candyman (Tony Todd): The free son of an enslaved man who is brutally murdered in his first life for falling for a white woman, returns to exact bloody revenge with his hook hand on whoever dares call his name in a mirror five times. Helen is fascinated by the story and goes on several trips to the run down and dangerous housing project, Cabrini-Green. She talks to residents, takes pictures and ignores the fact that she is an outsider mining for information she doesn’t really understand like only a white, well meaning, middle class lady could.  But her biggest faux pas comes when she ignores the very real fear that Candyman invokes in the people who live under his shadow, and she calls his name. 

This is no ordinary Candyman visit however, he has big plans for Helen. She has to pay for spreading disbelief, as it is through belief that Candyman lives on. He turns up regularly after she calls and murders the people around her, each time coaxing her to come with him. Similarly in Nia Dacosta’s new film, it is the forgetting and trivialising of the legend that brings Candyman backand, as in the original, he is not only looking for a victim but a new disciple. 

There are many scenes in both the original and new film that I could write paragraphs about, like the voyeuristically filmed murder in a high rise, seen from the rooftop opposite, while the other residents watch tv, unhearing and unable to help. But one sits above them all. The scene starts out like a romance, Helen softly lit like the heroine of a love story, Candyman as intoxicating and persuasive as a hero who pursues her. He is tender with her, he asks her to die with him and join him in eternity, he attempts to sooth her fears of pain and death. Helen is on the verge of succumbing, but just before she does, Candyman reveals that his ribcage encases hundreds of thronging bees, living through his body and pouring out of his mouth and onto Helen’s face as he leans in for a kiss to seal their fate. 

The Candyman bee scene has itself become stuff of legend for horror fans everywhere and for good reason. Tony Todd and Virginia Madsen endured being covered in real bees for the scene, something unlikely to be allowed today, but earned Todd extra money for every sting endured. I have seen this particular moment several times and I am still always amazed that I am watching real freakin’ bees crawl out of Todd’s mouth and about his face. It is another layer of horror in that scene, which is hard to beat, and I’m not sure any film has. The new film doesn’t attempt a recreation, but is incredibly successful in finding new and exciting ways to terrify today’s audience. Ways I’ll let you find out for yourself…

What I will tell you is that both films remind us that legend and history are often intertwined, and we shouldn’t be too quick to dismiss either. Echoes of the past can be felt in the present, and we’re doomed to repeat ignored mistakes. I have never been brave enough to say his name five times in the mirror, but if I did, I would be less scared of death by his hook than I would be of that sweet sweet honey kiss. 


Isaura Barbé-Brown is a Hackney born and based actress. She studied at AADA in New York and BADA in Oxford. She has written for The BFI, Black Ballad UK as well as The Final Girls/Bloody Women and been a guest on The Final Girls podcast and the Evolution of Horror podcast. She has done talks at the BFI for their Squad Goals event and during their Love season with the Bechdel Test Fest on race in romantic films. Isaura has also been on panels for BFI Future Film, The Watersprite Film Festival and The Norwich Film Festival. Her acting work covers theatre, film, tv and voiceover. She has also written for short film, TV and theatre as well as short stories and poetry. You can find Isaura on Twitter and Instagram.


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Olivia Howe