Candyman 2 : Farewell To The Flesh
- Year:
- 1995
- 154 Views
He died for love.
Born just after the Civil War,
Daniel Robitaille was the son of slaves,
an artist by trade.
A wealthy landowner commissioned him
to paint the portrait of his daughter.
They fell in love. She became pregnant.
Her father had his thugs chase
the poor man through the town.
When they caught him, they sawed off
his right hand with a rusty blade.
and the honeycomb smeared
over his bleeding, mutilated body.
The crowd that had gathered
fled as the bees came for him.
He died for love.
His resurrection began as rumour,
and grew into myth.
Say his name five times
in the mirror and he would appear.
A hook had replaced his severed hand.
Sorrow and hate fill his eyes.
Bees buzz about his lips.
The myth has travelled
from place to place,
taking root in the most desperate areas.
Even here, in New Orleans,
murders have been
committed in his name.
Yes, but is he real?
Cabrini Green, Chicago, 1992.
Helen Lyle becomes
so obsessed by the myth
that she takes on
the persona of Candyman,
killing her victims with a hook.
Cabrini residents believe
she was the Candyman.
- What about you, Doctor Purcell?
- Do I believe in Candyman?
I believe in the myth.
But the fact? The flesh and blood? No.
- I'm afraid not.
- Prove it.
Candyman,
Candyman,
Candyman,
Candyman,
Candyman.
Well, that is a relief.
forgiven me. Imagine the headlines:
"Cambridge Scholar Eviscerated
with Hook on Book Tour."
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you
to meet our Candyman, Peter.
Oh, I'm sorry. These streets
have got me all turned around.
We were a little shy back there, were we?
- It's a gift?
- "To Ethan".
Ethan Tarrant.
Ethan, I'm sorry about
what happened to your father.
- He came to you for help.
- Have you any idea
- My father wasn't a crackpot.
I'm not saying he was.
You told him there was no Candyman.
You told him to say the name -
and now he's dead.
Look, Ethan, I've seen this happen before.
People get sucked into the myth.
There's no myth.
Daniel Robitaille was real.
Daniel Robitaille has been dead
and buried for a very long time.
He's here.
You called him.
I'm sorry. I can't help you.
You're next, Purcell.
- Groin to gullet.
- You're as crazy as your father was.
Give me a shot of single malt.
F***ing murderer!
Hey!
Get him the f*** outta here!
You're next, Purcell.
Get out!
It's... my book.
" WBOV
Are you with me, New Orleans?
Do ya hear me? This is the Kingfish
coming to you at 96.2 FM.
Anointed and appointed.
Just three more days, Crescent City,
three days until Lent.
So let's have it, the merriment
before the penance,
and the feast before the fast.
y'all company all the way down.
Hey, brothers and sisters, y'all know
what "carnival" means in Latin?
Well, the Kingfish went to the good
schools, so he can tell you all about it.
"Carnival. Farewell to the flesh. "
That's what it means.
I like that a lot. "Farewell to the flesh. "
Yeah, you right.
And farewell to all that floodin',
as far as I'm concerned.
That's right. Look at it.
The banks of the mighty Mississippi
are ready to spill their seed.
Just look at that sky out there.
It's ready to rain on us again.
And the clouds?
Well, now, brothers and sisters,
they're not the only thing
threatenin' the Crescent City.
We're talking murder, mes amis.
Co so we've heard before,
the hook man, kerchunk.
So when you pull on your costume
and turn to admire yourself in the mirror,
please keep those lips locked tight.
Do not call his name.
Is he always so angry?
Guess so.
- And why do you think that is?
- Co he's been hurt.
"Co he's been hurt"
Who hurt him, Matthew?
- Everyone.
- Hey, Annie. Look.
Come here.
- If you stay there, I can paint you too.
- Ever tried using paper, Liz?
No way. I hate paper.
There's nothing on it.
But that's why it needs you to fill it up.
Besides, you can't keep a mirror, darlin'.
Why not? It's not going anywhere.
- It's your brother.
- It's only a couple of days till Mardi Gras.
- I said I'd get them plaster of Paris.
- I know, for their mask.
Annie, if there's one thing these kids
understand, it's taking care of themselves.
- I'll be back in the morning.
- Just go.
Hey, Pam.
You movin' in here, or what?
No.
No, let's go.
- Howdy, Miss Tarrant.
- Hi, Greg.
- Aren't you ready yet?
- Oh! Lord, I hate that thing.
- Then why leave it on all the time?
- Annie, please. Don't start with me.
- Mother, what did Ethan say?
- Ah! Well, he barely even spoke to me.
He only wants to see you. Oh, Annie.
I mean, murder.
- Hello, Mrs Tarrant.
- Is that what you call a speedy response?
- Pardon me, ma'am?
- I set that alarm off 45 seconds ago.
Ma'am, we try to respond as fast
as we can. But we do need a codeword.
Codeword? Oh, I'll give you a codeword.
- "D*ckhead".
- Mother.
When you reach my age, Annie,
you can say whatever the hell you want.
Does Dr Lewis let you drink?
Dr Lewis thinks I'm dyin' of cancer.
Says it doesn't
make a difference what I do.
We'll get that taken in.
You know the only thing I regret?
I never had a chance to grow out the grey.
I can tell you the exact day I got ill.
It was the day your father died.
- Stay back. Stand back.
- Can you comment on your son's arrest?
Just stay back!
Paul! Paul, just help my mother!
- Excuse me!
- Give us a comment!
Here you go, Octavia.
A cup of java with all the fixings.
It's the chicory in it.
You are a life-saver, Paul.
He'll make a great father someday.
Course, I'll be food for the worms by then.
especially with this climate.
Mrs Tarrant? Ma'am.
- Maybe I should see him alone first.
- Yes, maybe that'd be best.
I wouldn't want to upset him.
We'll go to the cafeteria.
I hear the gumbo is good and hot.
Hey! My guardian angel.
- How are you?
- Ah, I've been better.
How's Mom?
She's coping.
- Do you want me to call the dean?
- There's... there's no need.
- He kicked me out three months ago.
- What?
Come on, Annie. Law school
was Dad's dream, not mine.
- I hated the classes, the teachers...
- The bar-hopping in the Quarter.
Just tell me what happened last night.
This a**hole sat down
and he ordered a drink.
He started chewin' on his ice...
You're full of sh*t, Ethan, and you know it!
What happened?
- You're not supposed to be in here.
- The guy's a f***in' freak.
- Too much inbreeding, if you ask me.
- Rules, Ray.
Think I'll let some country-club
pissant slip through our fingers?
The boy is getting sloppy.
The first three victims were John Does.
Until number four: Mr Coleman Tarrant.
- Murdered like all the rest.
- And guess who found Daddy's body?
What is going on?
Are you protecting someone?
Am I protecting someone?
- I'll call Clay McPherson and...
- No, no, no.
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