Candyman (2025) marks the terrifying return of urban legend horror, blending mythology with modern-day dread. Directed by Jordan Peele (returning as producer and co-writer) and helmed this time by Nia DaCosta, the visionary behind the 2021 spiritual sequel, this new chapter dives deeper into the legacy of Daniel Robitaille, the man-turned-ghost who haunts mirrors and minds alike.
Set four years after the events of the 2021 film, Candyman (2025) explores a fractured Chicago, where the gentrification of Cabrini-Green has fully erased the physical landscape — but not the trauma that lingers in the walls and mirrors.
Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), once the cursed artist who became the new vessel of Candyman, is now believed dead. But a string of horrific, symbolic murders across art galleries, schools, and political protests signals that Candyman has evolved — he's no longer a singular ghost, but a collective curse, tied to systemic violence and inherited fear.
The story centers on Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris), still reeling from Anthony’s transformation. Now working as a curator at a major art museum, she uncovers a series of lost 19th-century paintings — brutal, surreal portraits of Robitaille’s lynching and resurrection. But when a new Candyman copycat emerges in the community, killing influencers, police officers, and even activists, Brianna begins to suspect that the legend is no longer tied to one name — but to many spirits wronged throughout history, taking shape as one.
Enter Dr. Malcolm Graves (played by Sterling K. Brown), a skeptical folklorist who tracks the urban myth across time and cities. Together with Brianna, he uncovers an ancient ritual hidden in slave songs — a "Call of Mirrors" — which reveals that Candyman is not summoned… he's released.
This isn’t just a horror movie — it’s a social reckoning wrapped in blood and bees. The 2025 installment confronts themes of black erasure, cultural memory, and how violence becomes legend. The kills are brutal, symbolic, and often leave behind visual messages — painted in blood — forcing both characters and viewers to ask who really summoned the curse.
Jordan Peele’s script sharpens the metaphor: Candyman isn’t the villain — he’s the consequence. The horror lies not in saying his name, but in forgetting why he was created.
Stylistically, the film is haunting: mirror shots, negative space, and hallucinatory sound design create a constant sense of dread. Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe returns to deliver a score full of choral whispers and droning violins, echoing with grief and rage.
A haunting post-credits scene shows a swarm of bees leaving Chicago, crossing highways, cities, and borders — and stopping in New Orleans, where a boy stares into a cracked mirror. The voice of Anthony whispers: "We are not finished."
This hints at a terrifying future: Candyman as a migratory legend, adapting and spreading across racial injustice hotspots. Each city could hold its own version, its own victims, and its own reckoning.
Candyman (2025) delivers horror not just from supernatural fear — but from the truths we bury. It’s chilling, confrontational, and unforgettable.
