Toast

04/10/21

The Shore, Leith

We’re meeting friends. Hurrah! This still seems like a big deal as we slowly ease our way back to a semblance of normality, and we’re keen to make the morning a success. Said friends are on their way further north, with a camper van and two dogs to look after, so it doesn’t make sense for them to come into the city centre. Instead, we agree to meet them at the Shore, where they can take their pooches for a beach walk and park with relative ease. As we’re less au fait with Leith, I ask the Hidden Edinburgh Facebook group where’s good to go for a dog-friendly breakfast, and Toast tops the list.

So Toast it is.

It’s a bright, sunny morning, so Philip and I decide to make the most of it and walk there, along the Waters of Leith. It’s three and a half miles of absolute pleasure, all dappled green light and sparkling water. And we’ve certainly built up an appetite by the time we arrive.

We start with coffees, which are good and strong, then spend some time perusing the menu. Philip opts for toast Benedict, which comprises toasted sourdough, two poached eggs, two rashers of smoked bacon and a hollandaise sauce. It looks delicious, and he declares it a triumph. The eggs are perfectly cooked, and the bacon, only subtly smoked, is superb quality. I have the French toast, and so does one of our friends. It’s the same sourdough, this time dipped in egg, vanilla & cinnamon, before being fried in butter. I add crispy praline bacon, hazelnut & maple syrup to the mix, because, well, why wouldn’t I when it’s on offer? The portion is huge, but I make my way through it womanfully, because I’m nothing if not stoic, and only a fool would leave any of this on their plate. I don’t lick the plate clean, but I can’t say it doesn’t cross my mind. I bet my friend is thinking the same thing. Our other friend has a toasted sourdough sandwich with sausages and eggs. He doesn’t say a lot about it; he’s too busy eating. He looks happy enough though.

The only slight negative is the peanut butter and chocolate cheesecake Philip orders afterwards. We’ve been sitting a while, ordering more coffees, chatting, and the cake cabinet is right in front of us, so it is very tempting. Sadly, he makes the wrong choice. The cheesecake is vegan (which the lovely waitress does inform him). He decides to try it anyway, but there’s none of the gooey naughtiness of dairy, just a not-quite-sweet enough, worthy, healthy tasting snack. It’s not awful, but it doesn’t feel like a treat. Luckily, our pal (who has also fallen prey to the allures of the sweet counter) lets him sample a pear tart, which is exquisite. He’ll know what to order next time.

And there’ll certainly be a next time.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield


The Green Knight

02/10/21

Amazon Prime

Has there ever been a more divisive movie than The Green Knight?

Unceremoniously pulled from its intended theatrical release and plonked onto Amazon Prime, it’s interesting to look at the audience reviews, which feature a plethora of five star ratings and an equal number of one stars. The latter break down into three distinct groups. Many people decry that the film is simply ‘too dark’ for their modest screens – and I have to agree that, if ever a film demanded to be seen at the cinema, this is the one.

More worrying are the blatantly racist comments about the casting of Asian actor, Dev Patel, as the ‘quintessential British hero’ Sir Gawain. But this is a work of chivalric fiction, written anonymously in the fourteenth century. It’s not as if director, David Lowery set out to do a biopic about Winston Churchill. Gawain could be played by any actor and Patel is terrific in the role.

The third strand is the most baffling: people complaining that, over the film’s two hour duration, ‘absolutely nothing happens’ – even though most of them casually add that they stopped watching after twenty minutes or so! The truth is that a lot happens in this film, even if the story unfolds at a leisurely pace, and what happens is fascinating stuff, open to a viewer’s own interpretation.

Our hero is the nephew of The King (Sean Harris), and we’re first introduced to Gawain as a slovenly layabout, happily carrying on with commoner Essel (Alicia Vikander), but, despite her entreaties, showing no inclination to marry her. One Christmas Eve, Gawain is summoned to a feast at the castle where he is invited to sit at his Uncle’s side. At this point, there’s an unexpected visitor, the titular Green Knight (Ralph Ineson). He rides in and issues a playful challenge. If any man will face him in combat, he will offer them the chance to strike him with a sword. But in one year’s time, that man must present himself to the Green Knight and receive the same treatment in return. Gawain recklessly steps up to the plate and, no doubt fuelled by a little too much alcohol, lops off the knight’s head, thinking perhaps that it will end there – whereupon the ancient warrior picks up his severed bonce and gleefully rides away.

One year later, as Christmas looms, Gawain is understandably nervous. After some procrastination, and girdled by a protective belt fashioned by his witchlike mother (Sarita Chowdhury), he sets off for the Green Chapel to meet with his adversary.

A classic quest dutifully unfolds. On his travels, Gawain meets with a duplicitous young thief (Barry Keoghan), a talking fox, and a mysterious lord (Joel Edgerton). He also has a close encounter with the lord’s wife – also played by Vikander – who tests Gawain’s mettle as a ‘gallant knight’…

The Green Knight is a splendid film. I love the gorgeous cinematography, its grubby depiction of a medieval world. I enjoy the various themes that criss-cross throughout the story. Here is a profound meditation on death, on coming of age, on the need for a brash young man to find his maturity. It explores the constant struggle between pagan beliefs and the rising power of Christianity (note how the Green Knight is depicted as the Green Man of mythology). I love the strange hallucinogenic interlude where Gawain encounters a race of giants and I marvel at the fact that, hours after the credits have rolled, we’re still discussing the meaning of some of the film’s weirder moments.

Of course this won’t be for everyone. And of course, some will see it as pretentious. But in many ways, The Green Knight is one of the most original films I’ve ever seen. It should have had its proper chance to dazzle us on the big screen.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Guilty

01/10/21

Netflix

Director Antoine Fuqua has previous form with cop movies. 2001 ‘s Training Day brought Denzel Washington a well-deserved Oscar, while End of Watch (2012), starring Jake Gyllenhaal, was also a memorable addition to the genre. Gyllenhaal returns in this riveting slice of drama, a remake of a Danish movie of the same name. Here he’s Joe Baylor, currently relieved of his usual duties as an L.A. street cop – for reasons that will eventually be revealed – and demoted to handing emergency calls in the midst of a catastrophic wildfire, which is straining emergency services to the limit.

Baylor is edgy and unpredictable. He’s suffering from asthma and going through the throes of a painful separation from his wife and young daughter. He’s also nervous about an important court appearance he’ll be making the following morning. But, for now, he has an important job to do and, when he receives a panicked call from Emily (voiced by Riley Keogh), he goes straight into protective mode, trying to find a way to get her away from her husband, Henry (Peter Sarsgaard), who has her locked in the back of a speeding van. In the process of his enquiries, Baylor also discovers that the couple have two young children left alone at home…

The Guilty is essentially a one-hander, with Gyllenhaal onscreen throughout. Though the hard scrabble bustle of the emergency room is fully realised, his supporting actors are relegated to background roles or appear simply as disembodied voices on phone lines. Given this approach, it’s remarkable that the film manages to generate almost unbearable levels of suspense as Fuqua steadily racks up the peril and the potential repercussions of Baylor’s actions. It’s not until the halfway point that we start to fully appreciate something worrying. Baylor may not be handling the situation as well as he could. Perhaps he’s letting his instincts overrule his common sense.

Gyllenhaal submits a stellar performance here, making us fully appreciate the complexities of this flawed character and pulling us further and further into his troubled world. Ultimately, the only thing that lets The Guilty down is the film’s conclusion, which seems unwilling to embrace the full enormity of what lies behind Baylor’s impending court case – and there’s an unlikely late development that slightly defuses the film’s power. Screenwriter Nic Pizolatto should have had the guts to step up to an unpalatable truth, which would make this story more hard-hitting.

That said, The Guilty is one of those rare creatures (along with Buried and Locke), a filmed monologue that fully deserves its place on the big screen. Though of course, as a Netflix film, the size of the screen will depend on whatever you have to view it on.

3.9 stars

Philip Caveney

Grease

29/09/21

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

We’ve been denied the magic of theatre for far too long… so what’s the ideal production to get us back in our seats, clapping our hands and grinning behind our face masks? I put it to you that Grease is a pretty sound option. It has everything you need for a guaranteed good time – brash, funny and shot through with a heady mix of nostalgia. What’s not to like? And, what’s more, where most big musicals can offer you four or five great numbers, Grease is packed with wall-to-wall, solid gold, five-star bangers. A couple of chords into that memorable theme song and I’m already sold.

We all know the story of course. Prim, virginal Sandy Dumbrowski (Georgia Louise) arrives at Rydell High School having already spent a summer being romanced by handsome Danny Zucco (Dan Partridge) – but he finds it hard to be romantic in front of the other members of his gang, so a troubled courtship ensues. Those who only know the story from the movie version may be surprised to discover that this production, based on the original musical by Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey, is quite different from that familiar screenplay. This slick, adrenalin-fuelled adaptation gallops effortlessly from scene to scene and is at its finest in the ensemble dance numbers where Arlene Philips’s nifty choreography has the whole cast hoofing up a storm.

We also have Peter Andre in the dual role as disc jockey Vince Fontaine (cunningly housed in a circular booth at the top left of the stage) and as the Teen Angel, where he delivers a delightful version of Beauty School Dropout to Frenchy (Marianna Nedfitou). Andre might appear to be stunt casting, but he’s terrific in this production and a moment where he holds a top note for what seems an impossibly long time is proof that he possesses an accomplished singing voice – as does Georgia Louise who gives a super-powered rendition of Hopelessly Devoted to You.

There are also some memorable visual motifs. A scene where Danny and Sandy watch a drive in movie in glorious 3D is a particular delight.

If the first half is good, the second is even better – and the finale, where the cast lead us through a spirited singlalong of the best known songs has the entire audience up on its feet, clapping and stamping out the rhythms. I don’t mind admitted to being quite emotional at this point. I’ve missed live theatre so much and it’s just great to be back, relishing the shared experience. we’ve all been longing for.

So if you’re looking for a guaranteed good night out, Grease is the word!

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Sweetheart

25/09/21

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Writer-director Marley Morrison’s debut feature is a charming coming-of-age tale, brimful of angst and high-octane emotions.

Seventeen-year-old AJ (Nell Barlow) is being taken on holiday against her will. Sure, she used to love going to Dorset’s Freshwater Holiday Park when she was a kid, but things have changed. For one, her dad’s not with them this time, and no one’s told her why her parents have split up. For another, the entertainment’s lame, and she doesn’t like sunbathing or swimming or talking to people. Okay?

But seventeen is an annoying age, with autonomy just out of reach. For now, AJ’s mum, Tina (Jo Hartley), gets to make the rules, and AJ has no choice but to spend the week cooped up in a caravan. Her sisters are there too: the younger Dayna (Tabitha Byron) and the older – and very pregnant – Lucy (Sophia Di Martino). Lucy’s boyfriend, Steve (Samuel Anderson), is clearly used to the family dynamic. He’s truly the nicest guy on earth, smiling and sympathising with everyone, making coffee and carrying bags and providing reassuring hugs. Every holiday needs a Steve.

AJ’s at odds with the world. She’s been in trouble at school; she just doesn’t fit in. She’s cut her hair in a fit of pique; she hides away in a bucket hat and aviator shades. She doesn’t want to conform but she doesn’t know what she wants. Her mum tells her to go out into the caravan park and “make some friends;” AJ just looks at her in despair. How?

And yet, thanks to the lovely lifeguard Isla (Ella-Rae Smith), that’s exactly what she does. AJ falls for Isla the minute she sees her, and the attraction seems mutual, although AJ’s convinced that “girls like Isla have boyfriends.” And it’s true, in a way: Isla’s a free spirit, and – although she’s not in a relationship – she does like having sex with boys. But that doesn’t mean she’s not interested in AJ…

Morrison really captures the raw pain of being a teenager: the self-conscious awkwardness; the self-loathing; the unfocused rage at a world that doesn’t understand, that should understand, that doesn’t hear what’s being unsaid. The family relationships are expertly drawn, the characters opening up as the as the story unfolds, so that we can see each of them clearly.

The young holiday-camp workers are believable too. At first, they seem supremely cool and confident but, as AJ gets to know them better, she soon learns that they have their own issues, their own dreams, desires and disappointments. And they seem to like AJ: she’s found a crowd where she can have fun.

I grew up in North Wales and had summer jobs in holiday parks a lot like Freshwater. Cinematographers Emily Almond Barr and Matthew Wicks have certainly captured their spirit here, and I’m particularly impressed by the nuanced way the clubhouse is depicted, at once horribly kitsch and embarrassing (from AJ’s point of view) and full of sparkle and promise and respite from the world (as seen by Tina and Dayna).

This is an age-old tale, and there aren’t many surprises, but it’s been lovingly updated and is never less than compelling.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Herself

23/09/21

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The multi-talented Clare Dunne co-wrote this script, has a sole credit for ‘story,’ and also plays the titular ‘Herself.’ It seems fitting that this film should be a kind-of-but-not-at-all-really one-woman project, just like the house that her character, Sandra, wants to build.

Sandra’s husband, Gary (Ian Lloyd Henderson), is a violent man. Sandra’s been saving up so that she can leave him, but he finds her secret money-stash and decides to punish her. She’s clearly been anticipating the attack, and gives her oldest daughter, Emma (Ruby Rose O’Hara), the signal they’ve arranged. Emma races off to the nearest shop and shows them Sandra’s hand-written message. ‘Help. Phone the Garda. My life is in danger.’ It’s a heartbreaking moment; no one could fail to be moved by Emma’s trusting, fearful little face, imploring the shopkeeper to understand.

It works: Sandra doesn’t die. And she escapes from the relationship. But her new situation just isn’t tenable: she relies on painkillers and a wrist support to cope with the nerve damage Gary inflicted on her arm, and she’s living in a hotel room next to Dublin Airport, miles away from her daughters’ school and friends. There are no cooking facilities, and the only place for the kids to play is the multi-storey car park. Sandra has two cleaning jobs – in a bar and in a private home – and she struggles to get to them on time. Something, somewhere, has to change.

And Sandra has to make the change. Herself.

This is a deceptively gentle film, with a searing polemic at its heart. There’s Gary, wheedling for another chance. There’s the courts – for all the fall-out: the custody arrangements, the maintenance payments. And there’s the council and their housing list. When Sandra approaches them with an eminently sensible plan (“You have all this land. Lend me the money to build a house on it and I’ll pay you rent. It’ll work out cheaper than putting me up in a hotel”), it’s obvious the answer is going to be no. The person behind the desk doesn’t have the power to green-light such a project and, even if she did, the bureaucracy involved would be mind-boggling. Anyway, if places were being allocated, Sandra probably wouldn’t qualify. Not while there’s a housing shortage, and plenty of people worse off than her.

But Herself, directed by Phyllida Lloyd, is also a fairy tale, a fantasy about what might happen, if only… If only rich people shared the land they have; if only communities worked together to help those in need.

Enter, stage right: the fairy godmother – disguised here as grumpy doctor, Peggy (the inimitable Harriet Walter). Sandra’s is Peggy’s cleaner; she’s been using the doctor’s laptop to sneak a peek at YouTube instruction videos on how to build her own house, and Peggy realises she can help. She has a big garden, standing empty, with more than enough space. And she’ll also lend Sandra the money she needs.

It’s enough to get the ball rolling. Retired builder, Aido (Conleth Hill), is reluctant at first, but is swayed by his son, Francis (Daniel Ryan)’s desire to assist. He’s soon joined by a host of volunteers, all eager to make a difference. There’s a lovely lesson here: by helping Sandra, they help themselves, each acquiring a sense of purpose and accomplishment.

This is a multi-layered tale, and there are surprises here that I won’t spoil. Suffice to say, it’s unpredictable, and avoids clichés, both of character and story arc. If occasionally it veers close to mawkishness, it always cuts away in time, which is testament to Dunne and co-writer Malcolm Campbell’s skilful writing.

The two child actors (O’Hara and Molly McCann) are both terrific – natural and sweet and utterly believable – and the supporting cast is uniformly strong. But this is Dunne’s film in every way. She owns it. Herself.

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

The Plough at Lupton

19/09/21

Cow Brow, Carnforth

We’ve been in Manchester for a joyful occasion – my daughter’s wedding, thanks for asking – and we’re all too aware that, after our enthusiastic celebrations of the previous night, we’ll be somewhat delicate and in poor shape for the long drive back to Edinburgh. So it seems eminently sensible to break up the journey with a relaxing stopover somewhere in the Lake District. We put out an enquiry on the Elis James and John Robins Podcast Devotee Facebook group and The Plough, just an hour’s drive out of Media City, is heartily recommended to us.

Which is why, the following morning, we find ourselves heading off the M6 in search of the place.

It’s ridiculously easy to find and turns out to be a charmingly rustic establishment, nestled invitingly amidst the greenery. Our suite – The Torsin – turns out to be positively palatial with a bathroom big enough to house the entire room where we’ve spent the previous night (The Holiday Inn, Salford Quays, whose idea of luxury is a couple of sachets of Nescafe and an ironing board). At The Plough, there’s a proper espresso machine, and the massive bathroom contains a shower, a freestanding bath and a pair of wash basins. There are cotton bathrobes, comfortable sofas and a level of design that both pleases the eye and offers supreme comfort. (Maybe I’m not mad about the dining table mounted on a bronze horse’s head, but it really is my only niggle.) What’s more, here, a fabulous breakfast is included in the price, whereas, at the Holiday Inn, mediocrity is an extra eleven pounds a head. There are even some delightful country walks beginning just a few steps from The Plough’s front door. I’m already regretting that we didn’t book in for longer.

Ah, but what of the food?

There’s many a charming location that’s let down by the standards of its cuisine – but not so here. After a couple of bracing aperitifs in the beer garden, we wander into the dining room and order our evening meals. We both go for fishy starters. There’s a splendid prawn salad served on crunchy toasted sourdough and a crab, avocado and tomato creation that’s zesty and mouthwatering. It’s a promising start.

It’s a Sunday, so we’re in the mood for a roast dinner and we both opt for the lamb. I have a few misgivings about missing out on the huge Yorkshire puddings I spot on somebody else’s table, but it turns out that they aren’t reserved just for the beefeaters in the room. The lamb is suitably succulent, the selection of vegetables nicely al dente and there’s even an accompanying bowl of cauliflower cheese. The portions, though generous, are just enough to allow me to finish everything on the plate.

We take a wee break and share a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and then, purely because we feel no place can be properly judged unless a pudding is sampled, we eventually order a sharing fondue, with doughnuts, a selection of fruits, some marshmallows and a delectable chocolate dipping sauce. We make short work of it and it provides a satisfying ending to an enjoyable meal.

So, those in need of a luxurious break in the Lake District, should look no further than The Plough. I really can’t recommend it highly enough.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Charlie and Stan

17/09/21

The Lowry, Salford Quays

Told by an Idiot’s Charlie and Stan is a charmingly whimsical piece, a musing on what might have happened when Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel first met – as cabin-mates on a steamer bound for New York, both members of Fred Karno’s music hall troupe. Fittingly, it’s a largely silent piece of theatre, reliant on mime, music and physical comedy.

The performances are as peppy as you’d expect from Told by an Idiot, and it’s a fascinating premise. There is lots of potential for silly jokes and tomfoolery, which writer/director Paul Hunter enables his ensemble cast to utilise to full advantage. The choreography (by Nuna Sandy) is sharp, and the movement (courtesy of Jos Houben) is precise, as it needs to be in a piece like this. Danielle Bird’s Chaplin is glorious, all verve and spirit, while Jerone Marsh-Reid’s Laurel personifies sweetness and likability. The piano and drum accompaniment (Sara Alexander and Nick Haverson) works well too, and I like how it’s incorporated into the action.

I am also impressed by Ioana Curelea’s set: the wonky ship’s interior and hanging bunk beds contribute to the sense of impermanence and making do.

There’s so much to admire here, and yet – for me – it doesn’t quite come off. I think it’s to do with the tech. I need lighting that directs my eye; some of the physical jokes don’t land because I don’t know where I’m supposed to be looking, and simple sound effects to underscore some of the more obscure punchlines would also be helpful. Without these guides, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the business of the stage, and I miss a lot in the mayhem.

I’m also unconvinced by the flashback and flash forward sequences. The former – depicting Chaplin’s troubled childhood – seems tonally wrong. It’s a weighty topic, but it’s depicted in exactly the same way as the rest of the piece; I feel it needs to be markedly different. The latter just seems grafted on: Haverson’s portrayal of Oliver Hardy is uncannily accurate, but the scene doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.

So, for me, this is a bit of a mixed bag. A nice idea, a pleasant way to spend an evening, and some undeniably strong performances but, in the end, a little disappointing.

3.4 stars

Susan SIngfield

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

14/09/21

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I’m somewhat late to this but the word is that Shang-Chi has been one of cinema’s biggest hitters – though the three other people in the audience for my showing doesn’t exactly suggest that Cineworld is being overrun.

This film is an important addition to the Marvel Universe in the same way that Black Panther was – and those like me, who are old enough to remember the impact made by the original Bruce Lee films, will understand how important it is that American Asians have their own superhero to root for. So here he is, played by the extremely likeable Simu Liu as ‘Shaun,’ an unassuming lad working in a valet at a hotel in San Francisco, parking the cars of rich customers, ably assisted by his best friend Katy (Awkwafina).

But Shaun has a secret. He isn’t quite as unassuming as he appears. He is, in fact, Shang Chi, the son of the ruthless – and immortal- Xu Wenwu (Tony Chiu-Wai Leung), the possessor of ten mystical golden rings that give him the power of a thousand men, enabling him to vanquish entire armies single-handedly. Always a useful thing. But when Shaun is attacked by a bunch of armed warriors on a bus, who have been sent by Xu to steal the fancy green amulet that Shaun has worn since he was a little boy, he begins to realise that his toxic dad is seeking to renew their acquaintance – and that Shaun’s sister, Xialing (Meng’er Zhang), is probably going to be drawn into his father’s orbit too. It’s time to stop pretending and step up to face the consequences.

The film opens well (once we’re past a rather po-faced introduction) and the aforementioned bus punch-up is nicely done, with Awkwafina providing some much-needed comic relief as the put-upon-friend in a difficult situation, but it isn’t very long before Shaun and Katy are off on a mission to the mystical village of Ta Lo, where an ancient community lives surrounded by mystical creatures and a helpful water dragon. They also meet Trevor Slattery (Ben Kingsley), a former actor, who can somehow talk to mystical creatures. (Again, file this one in the comic relief section.)

From this point, the story seems to ramp up the pomposity, as Xu Wenwu, who believes he’s being summoned by his late wife, arrives with an army of warriors in tow, intent on setting free an ancient evil dragon who has been locked away in some forbidden cavern… and a massive cosmic punch-up dutifully ensues.

I have to say that, in the film’s latter stages, it loses me somewhat. The stodgy, leaden feel of the story makes two hours seem like three and I feel sorry for the wonderful Michelle Yeoh, who is saddled with a ‘wise auntie’ role and is therefore required to say something profound every time she opens her mouth. While it’s clear that much money has been lavished on the CGI budget and it’s certainly a handsome film, but the final dragon-on-dragon conflict just seems cumbersome and goes on and on, until I’m reduced to checking my watch at regular intervals.

A final coda, with Benedict Wong summoning Shaun and Katy into the extended Marvel Universe, doesn’t feel remotely enticing and I’m unlikely to watch whatever comes next.

In the end, Shang Chi‘s main failing is that it can’t seem to make up its mind what it wants to be. As a kung fu kick- about, it works well enough, but director Destin Daniel Cretton seems intent on making it more than that, overburdening the film with meaning in order to cover all the bases and – for my money at least – he doesn’t really succeed.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Candyman

05/09/21

Cineworld

Horror remakes can be decidedly tricky customers. Like those endless Halloween sequels, for instance, they can turn out to be pale retreads of a brilliant original. I have good memories of Bernard Rose’s 1992 Candyman, which was so much more than just another creepy slasher movie. That said, I’m also uncomfortably aware it had its own slew of inferior sequels, so I’m not exactly filled with anticipation at the prospect of Candyman 2021. But, with Jordan Peele attached as producer, I’m hopeful that this new offering from director Nia DaCosta might have something different to offer.

It’s clear from the get-go that this is intended to be more than just a straightforward reboot. For one thing, the opening credits (even the Universal logo) are reversed left to right, as though reflected in a mirror – a delightful reference to the film’s central premise – and then the startlingly stylistic cinematography takes a grip on my senses, aided and abetted by delightful shadow-puppet sequences, depicting the history of the film’s infamous urban legend. There’s also a powerful ‘black lives matter’ subtext running through this version. Some critics have derided it, claiming that it is hammered home a little too forcefully, but I disagree. The message is an important one and it’s clearly stated. It adds to, rather than reduces, the power of the story. And that has to be a good thing, right?

Twenty-seven years after the events of the first film, visual artist Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) is living in a swish high-rise apartment in the area of Chicago that borders the old Cabrini Green housing project where the original Candyman strutted his grisly stuff. This part of the city has been gentrified over the years and now, Anthony and his art-dealer partner, Brianna (Teyonah Parris), spend their time sipping expensive wine and attending flashy art exhibitions. But Anthony has lost his painting mojo. It’s been some time since he came up with anything new.

When Brianna’s younger brother, Troy (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), tells him about an old urban legend, Anthony is interested enough to wander into Cabrini Green with a camera, looking for inspiration. It’s there that he meets William Burke (Colman Domingo), who tells him more about the story of the Candyman. And it’s there too that Anthony is stung by a bee and begins to experience some startling reactions to the venom…

Cinematographer John Guleserian creates a world where everything seems inverted. The sinister glass towers of Anthony’s home are depicted upside down as though plunging into sinister depths, rather than reaching for the sky. Much of the ensuing action is glimpsed via reflections in mirrored surfaces – and one sequence where an art critic is murdered in her high rise apartment, filmed in a distanced silent long shot actually makes me gasp. I have been made to feel like a helpless observer. The film doesn’t shy away from its slasher roots either. There are some genuinely wince-inducing murders and a couple of instances of extreme body horror that almost have me looking away from the screen. But the violence, though savage, never feels salacious – and DaCosta has the canny knack of knowing exactly when to cut away from the action.

Ultimately, this feels like a palpable win, a film that treats the original with reverence but also manages to develop the story in coherent and inventive ways. The stylish art direction adds a dazzling sheen to the whole enterprise. There’s also a wonderful joke in here that provides, once and for all, the definitive answer to an age old question: ‘Why do people in horror movies go wandering down staircases into dark and gloomy cellars?’ I won’t reveal what happens but, in the midst of all the dread, it actually makes me laugh out loud.

There will always be reboots of popular horror movies and many of them won’t be worth the price of admission. But this one, I feel, is a cut above.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney