Ryan Coogler’s fifth film, “Sinners,” has much to say within a world that seeks to muffle or erase the inspiration behind its hardest lessons. The film contains elements of a horror subgenre that is resigned chiefly to sticking to its conventional folklore as its guiding light. What could vampirism, the Jim Crow South of the 1930s, the origins of blues music, and the enduring foundation of Black history despite the forces conspiring against it have in common? A lot. Vampirism is resigned to lurk and thrive in the nighttime while being confined to a coffin or dark dwelling place during the day. In one way, you can link the same attributes to the insidiousness of racism. That’s not to say we aren’t ignorant of the fact that atrocities throughout American history were brazenly committed when the sun was at its highest peak. Like a vampire bite, prejudice and racism both spread like a virus.
There’s almost too much the film wants to tackle, and the seams might unravel in keeping all its elements in line. If someone like Coogler were to tackle this same film without the vestedness of the story, it would fall apart completely. But for all that the film gives you to think about (complementary), “Sinners” is a marvel to see from a visual, musical, and thematic standpoint. Things pick up in 1932 in Mississippi, where twin brothers Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan) return home after almost living two lifetimes as soldiers in World War I and a brief stint in Chicago working for Al Capone. They sport sharp suits, carry bundles of money, and have the idea of making their juke joint. The twins buy an old saw mill from a racist white man with the intention of opening it the same night. It’s a daunting task, and as you can imagine, they will need a lot of help.
ICHAEL B. JORDAN as Smoke and as Stack, in Warner Bros. Pictures’ “SINNERS,” a Warner Bros. Pictures release.
From that point forward, Coogler takes the audience on a journey to meet the supporting players in what will later be a mix of “From Dusk Till Dawn” and “Green Room.” While Jordan is the star player, the film’s center is Sammie, or Preacher Boy (played by an exhilarating Miles Caton). Our first glimpse of Sammie is bloodied, beaten, and holding the neck of a guitar tightly while his preacher father asks him to drop it. Quick cuts of calamity show before “Sinners” starts retelling its story. Before Sammie sets off on his journey with his twin cousins, his father cautions him about being unable to shake the devil. Sammie’s character stands for the convergence of Coogler’s most interesting themes in this film: the role of religion and the medicine of Black art and music.
Sammie has the gift of music within him that stretches across generations of Black culture. Coogler beautifully portrays this later in a wraparound shot while Sammie is singing, with visuals of a futuristic guitarist akin to Bootsy Collins, hip-hop artists, and incorporating other cultures with traditional Chinese dancers. While there’s a perceived safety in the ritual and community of our religious spaces, tools like Blues music illustrate Black people’s joys, hopes, and sorrows. Even with Blues and Gospel music being related, they were considered opposing forces.
But there’s a spiritual experience as we move and sing along to melodies born out of history. They are the lyrics that only certain types of life experiences can show. That’s where Coogler interlinks the danger of those who want to steal the songs of Black ancestors and how the homonization of religious welcomes can bleed customs and folklore dry. I won’t spoil the exact way, but it’s something to consider. The first half of “Sinners” involves getting the gang together while introducing some side stories. This cast of characters involves a very talented harmonica player who loves his alcohol, Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), a married couple and owners of a general store in town, Grace (Li Jun Li) and Bo Chow (Yao), and Cornbread (Omar Benson Miller) who will be essentially the bouncer, and Pearline (Jayme Lawson), a married woman Sammie becomes smitten with.
Smoke and Stacks have other unfinished business regarding love to attend to (or fractured parts of it). A local hoodoo conjurer named Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) has a history with Smoke involving a tragic loss. Stack has a contentious relationship with his ex, Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), who passes as white and has a long history with his family. All of these elements come together on opening night. If the world outside is cold, unforgiving, and murderous, the juke joint is a haven to celebrate and let loose. The cherry on top is the fact that two brothers were able to provide it.
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Now, that doesn’t last long with a trio of white vampires (played by Jack O’Connell, Lola Kirke, and Peter Dreimanis) who fell off the folk train. They claim to want to play music and spend some honest money on some liquor inside, but we all know that’s not the case. Here, Coogler could have left the simple metaphor of vampirism and racism to do their dance together. However, O’Connell’s character Remmick is a smooth talker with a slick, but not unfamiliar bargain. It may be far more enticing to give up the safe spaces that could get destroyed at any moment, for the “safety” of a uniform community. The promise of power is scary, but it won’t necessarily set you free. Granted, you may live forever, but you’re dammed to a life of feeding on your fellow man. Some methods of freedom are just a different type of prison, and Coogler lets us reckon with that.
MILES CATON as Sammie Moore in Warner Bros. Pictures’ “SINNERS,” a Warner Bros. Pictures release.
“Sinners” is shot on large-format film, which allows you to feel the heat radiating off characters and the vastness of the Mississippi cotton fields when particular characters are driving past them. Ludwig Göransson’s score is another winner, combining orchestral arrangements with twangy guitar that will transport you to that specific time and tap your feet along to the lively dances within the juke joint.
If the film has a faltering point, it’s with the conclusion and the need to wrap everything neatly in a bow. In reality, the subjects of “Sinners” are complex and will take generations to fix (if at all). For much of the film’s two-plus hour runtime, Coogler doesn’t settle for an easy way out concerning the topics this film covers. There’s almost an extra layer to everything, inspiring discussion for a long time. The conclusion that the film arrives at doesn’t take away from the achievement of this work itself, but it loses sight of its overall impact hours beforehand. “Sinners” has the fingerprints, pen strokes, and Coogler’s trademark iconography to ultimately state how the blood, sweat, and celebration of artistry might be the way through the terrors of life.
