Ranking the Candyman Movies, from “Be My Victim” to “No Thanks, I’m Good”
When the 90s crept in like a fog machine on overdrive, horror was in need of fresh blood. The genre had spent the 80s drowning in slashers and sequels — Freddy was getting wisecracky, Jason had fought everyone except a decent script, and Michael Myers was off doing druid stuff, apparently. So where do we turn next? Enter the terrifying world of Clive Barker.
Off the back of Hellraiser and a string of dark, twisted stories that gave horror fans collective trust issues, Barker’s work was hotter than ever. Even Stephen King — actual horror royalty — famously said, “I have seen the future of horror, and its name is Clive Barker.” And look, if King gives you the horror thumbs up, you’re basically cursed in the best way.
So it’s no surprise that one of Barker’s short stories, The Forbidden, was snatched up and turned into something truly iconic: Candyman. Say his name five times in a mirror and you’ll summon a hook-handed legend with a deep voice, a tragic backstory, and a concerning amount of bees. It’s basically a mix of urban legend, gothic romance, and that one dream you had after eating too much cheese.
Over the years, Candyman has gone from indie horror darling to genre icon, with sequels, reboots, and Tony Todd popping up like a poetic boogeyman who’s very good at monologuing. So let’s rank every movie in the Candyman saga, from the haunting highs to the direct-to-video what was that moments.
Go ahead. Read on. We dare you.
4. Candyman (2021)
When word got out that Candyman was getting the remake-slash-reboot-slash-spiritual-sequel treatment, a lot of horror fans were buzzing. Jordan Peele was producing, and everyone assumed he’d be directing too, because… well, you’d want someone who knows what they’re doing, right? Wrong. Instead, the directing gig went to Nia DaCosta, whose biggest achievement here is making an hour and a half feel like a six-part documentary on bees.
This film tries to pick up where the 1992 classic left off, only it does so with the grace of someone trying to do algebra while being chased by a hook-handed ghost. It follows an artist named Anthony, played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, who moves into the now-gentrified Cabrini-Green area. He becomes obsessed with the Candyman legend and starts painting increasingly creepy portraits, which seems like a red flag if your boyfriend suddenly starts doing nothing but hook-themed art, but whatever. Soon enough, people are dying, bees are buzzing, mirrors are getting way too involved, and Anthony slowly starts turning into Candyman like it’s some weird supernatural internship program.
The film wants to be deep. It really does. It throws around themes like gentrification, racial trauma, and police brutality like it’s collecting buzzwords for a horror-themed dissertation. But here’s the problem — it forgets to be a horror movie. There are about two proper kills in the whole thing, and neither of them land with the punch or flair of the original. The rest of the time we’re being force-fed monologues, shadow puppet theatre (seriously), and scenes that think they’re profound when they’re really just painfully slow.
And where’s Candyman in all this? Good question. He barely shows up. The film spends so long talking about the idea of Candyman, we were half expecting it to end with a TED Talk instead of a climax. When Tony Todd finally appears for 2.5 seconds at the end, de-aged by early-2000s video game graphics, it just reminds you what this film could’ve been.
This isn’t a love letter to the original. It’s more like a group project where nobody actually watched the first film but still handed something in anyway. Stylish? Maybe. Memorable? Only for how boring it was. This one’s getting its name crossed out in the mirror.
3. Candyman: Day of the Dead (1999)
Ah yes, Day of the Dead. Not to be confused with Romero’s zombie classic, which is good. Or Mexico’s actual Day of the Dead, which is culturally rich and meaningful. No, this is the straight-to-video third entry in the Candyman franchise where things really start spiraling down the hook-hole.
This time, we follow Caroline McKeever, who is apparently the daughter of Annie Tarrant from Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh, meaning the family tree is still firmly rooted in trauma and terrible life choices. Caroline is an art gallery owner in Los Angeles (of course she is), and for reasons only a late-90s screenwriter could explain, she decides to host an exhibit that celebrates the legend of Candyman — you know, the one who stalked and killed her ancestors. Bold move. What could possibly go wrong? Oh wait, everything.
Naturally, someone says Candyman’s name five times into a mirror, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s back again with his lovely hook, his bees, and his Shakespearean voice of doom. This time though, Candyman’s looking extra bored, like even he doesn’t know why he’s in this movie. Tony Todd, bless him, still delivers his lines like he’s auditioning for a supernatural Othello, but even his booming voice can’t save a script that feels like it was written during a Red Bull crash.
The plot is nonsense. The kills are unimaginative. The characters are about as likable as expired mayonnaise. And there’s a weird subplot involving Candyman wanting Caroline to join him in death so they can, I dunno, haunt galleries together or something? It’s all incredibly 90s, which would be charming if it wasn’t also completely pants.
Still, it lands higher than the 2021 reboot because at least stuff happens. It’s dumb, yes, but it’s entertainingly dumb. There’s gore. There’s Tony Todd monologuing into infinity. There are bad outfits and worse acting. It’s the Candyman film you put on at 1 AM when you’ve had too many ciders and think “screw it, I’ve seen worse.” And you probably have.
2. Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh (1995)
So, it turns out if you give Candyman his own origin story, a humid New Orleans backdrop, and a Southern Gothic vibe — you actually get a pretty entertaining sequel. Farewell to the Flesh is the second film in the series and takes place far away from the Chicago projects of the original. This time, we’re in Louisiana, the land of jazz funerals, voodoo-lite, and sweaty shirtless extras.
We follow a schoolteacher named Annie Tarrant, who’s connected to the Candyman legend in the same way everyone in a horror sequel suddenly ends up being someone’s niece, cousin, or long-lost pen pal. She’s skeptical about the urban legend (because of course she is), but wouldn’t you know it, her brother says Candyman’s name into a mirror and promptly gets blamed for a murder. Cue bees. Cue hook. Cue a lot of people not learning from history.
Where the original was quiet and eerie, Farewell to the Flesh turns the dial up and leans heavily into the backstory of Daniel Robitaille — aka Candyman. We get the whole tragic tale. Artist. Forbidden love. Hacked to bits by a racist mob and covered in honey so bees could do the rest. Grim stuff. The film fleshes it out (pun intended) and makes Candyman more sympathetic, which is a nice idea… until you realise that sympathy immediately evaporates once he’s back to gutting people in bathrooms for fun.
Director Bill Condon — yes, the same guy who later directed Dreamgirls and Twilight: Breaking Dawn (let that sink in) — gives the movie a slicker look, and Tony Todd once again gives it his all like he’s acting in Macbeth instead of a movie where a swarm of bees has better aim than most police departments.
Farewell to the Flesh is flawed, absolutely. It’s a bit overstuffed with plot, the pacing goes all over the place, and the dialogue can feel like it was written during a thunderstorm and a bourbon bender. But as horror sequels go? It’s got style, atmosphere, and enough lore to keep things interesting. And, best of all, it doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. This is Candyman going full Southern Gothic slasher, and it somehow works.
1. Candyman (1992)
“Be my victim…” — No thanks, mate, I just cleaned this shirt.
Right from the opening frame, as Philip Glass’s haunting and majestic organ score kicks in and the camera glides over 90s Chicago like we’re being stalked by a very polite drone, you know Candyman means business. It’s classy. It’s eerie. It’s full of bees. And it’s arguably one of the most unique and unnerving horror films of the 1990s.
Virginia Madsen stars as Helen Lyle, a graduate student and journalist digging into the power of urban legends for her thesis — because apparently therapy wasn’t an option. While researching at the Cabrini-Green housing projects, she uncovers the myth of the Candyman, a hook-handed, bee-covered apparition who appears if you say his name five times into a mirror. Classic ghost nonsense. She doesn’t believe it, of course — nobody ever does — and does the mirror thing like it’s some sort of spooky challenge on Blue Peter. And surprise surprise, it works. Enter Tony Todd as Candyman, gliding in like a terrifying version of Lenny Kravitz, whispering sweet death threats and asking if you’d like to be his victim.
The real brilliance of Candyman is how it layers in social commentary without ever being preachy. The film tackles race, class, and gentrification in a way that still feels relevant today, using the decaying Cabrini-Green as a haunting backdrop that’s as much a character as Candyman himself. It’s genuinely unsettling, weirdly romantic, and somehow manages to blend folklore with body horror and bees. So many bees.
Tony Todd’s performance is iconic — elegant, menacing, strangely seductive. The man oozes menace with every whispered line, and that voice could make even “pass the salt” sound like a threat. He also deserves full respect for filming multiple scenes with live bees in his mouth. He had it in his contract that he got paid $1,000 for every sting — and walked away with a cool $23,000. That’s right, Candyman got hazard pay and we love that for him.
As slashers go, Candyman stands out because it’s not just about creative kills or dumb teens getting sliced in half. It’s about myth, grief, and the way stories shape our lives and communities. But also, yeah, there are some nasty hookings, a creepy-as-hell mirror aesthetic, and a scene where Helen wakes up in a pool of blood next to a decapitated dog. It’s a whole vibe.
More thoughtful than Freddy, more stylish than Jason, and a hell of a lot more bees than Michael Myers, Candyman remains a horror classic. Not just the best in the series — it’s the one that made us afraid of bathroom mirrors, derelict buildings, and Victorian-era revenge ghosts with a flair for the dramatic.
