‘SINNERS’ Review: Ryan Coogler and Michael B. Jordan’s Vampire Horror Film Has Real Stakes

Courtney Howard // Film Critic

SINNERS
Rated R, 2 hours and 18 minutes

Directed by: Ryan Coogler

Starring: Michael B. Jordan, Miles Caton, Jack O’Connell, Li Jun Li, Yao, Delroy Lindo, Wunmi Mosaku, Hailee Steinfeld, Jayme Lawson, Peter Dreimanis, Lola Kirke, Omar Benson Miller

Ryan Coogler has already established himself as a bright, forceful new generation filmmaker. From FRUITVALE STATION to CREED to his two BLACK PANTHER films, he’s found a strong voice in giving cinematic flair and power to Black stories. He’s a true auteur. Yet with SINNERS, he ascends to the next level, delivering a gorgeous compendium of Black culture, history and spirituality that sneaks in a wholly original period horror piece about gangsters vs. vampires. Finely tuned in its beautifully textured detailing, it’s a bold, brilliant, bloody and beguiling must-see on the biggest screen possible.

It’s October 1932 when we first meet twin brothers Smoke and Stack (Michael B. Jordan). They’ve just returned home to Clarksdale, Mississippi from their stint working for a famous gangster in Chicago and they’re looking to set up their own juke joint, transforming the old Saw Mill outside of town into a hip, happening place of celebration for their community. In order to do so, the pair are forced to negotiate a changing Southern landscape between Blacks and whites, not only dealing with the devastating psychological trauma left behind, but also the deep-seated, heated racial tensions within the segregated town that continue to exist. Additionally, the brothers’ old romantic entanglements need untangling, like Stack’s ghosting of his longtime crush, white-passing Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), and Smoke’s abandonment of his ex-wife/ mystical healer Annie (Wunmi Mosaku).

Stack gathers his staff for the opening night festivities, bringing together their young cousin/ blues guitarist “Preacher Boy” Sammie (Miles Caton), drunkard musician Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), singer Pearline (Jayme Lawson) and married grocers Bo (Yao) and Grace Chow (Li Jun Li). However, there’s a supernatural evil brewing, arriving in the form of sinister, smooth-talking vampire/ white devil Remmick (Jack O’Connell). He and his recently-turned, traveling band of folk musicians comprised of Bert (Peter Dreimanis) and Joan (Lola Kirke) show up on the joint’s doorstep after hearing the siren call of Sammie’s funkadelic, seductively sorrowful guitar riffs. And these crafty vamps will use everything in their power to get at this crowd, dividing them under the guise of love, friendship and comfort.

Coogler cooks up a slow burn, allowing us to feel the tension coming to a rolling boil. Thematic commentary on this country’s history of dreams dashed by deceit and lies feels all the more disheartening, far-reaching and resonant when filtered through this fictional, fantastical medium. While we can feel the act breaks where the film shifts its mutating identity, not one moment is wasted channeling the characters’ sex appeal and strife, gumption and grief, vibrancy and viciousness. Each character in this ensemble is fully realized and fleshed out, given breathing room for both large scale Movie Moments and those featuring a more grounded, intimate immediacy. Delta Slim’s recounting the story of a lynched man is genuinely gutting. As told, it’s heart wrenching alone, yet it’s accompanied by a layered soundscape of the tale, letting our imagination take these events to even scarier places. Grace’s third act invitational battle cry – a primal yawp for her loss – is filled with palpable pain and vengeance.

Coogler’s juxtaposition of beauty and horror creates a fascinating interplay not just within the narrative, but in the visuals. Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw gives us both golden hour-lit cotton fields and shadowy, dank wilderness, alluding to the dangerous splendor housed within both. Composer Ludwig Göransson’s pieces tap into a foreboding darkness and sultry sadness, comingling the two. Mike Fontaine’s killer prosthetics work leaves audiences both awe-struck by the craftsmanship and haunted by the violence inflicted on Black bodies during that era.

Though the inevitable climactic attack on the makeshift dance hall is well-conceived and assembled, it’s the barn burner music number that’s truly breathtaking and soul-levitating. Coogler and company have crafted powder-keg filmmaking, exploding old boundaries and pushing forward a radical new cinematic language. This artistically transcendent, mesmerizing “oner” sequence stands as a celebration of Black music and dance, funneling everything from tribal to trap into one sonically coherent, aesthetically exhilarating set piece. As the camera glides over the stage as Caton sings “I Lied To You,” and the dance hall patrons move in rhythmic choreography, vignettes paying tribute to the blues’ roots and evolution appear – like DJs spinning breakbeats, and breakdancers and C-Walkers comingling with ballet dancers and electro-funk rockers.

Jordan’s duel performance is incredible. In his capable hands, he shades each of the identical twins with different colors, so it’s not solely the wardrobe cueing us to who is who (red on Stacks and blue on Smoke). Stacks’ impulsiveness is a quick-trigger and as is Smoke’s vulnerability. O’Connell is magnetic in his slippery villainy, sweet-talking his prey. In supporting roles, Lindo and Mosaku shine. Still, it’s Caton who’s the captivating main attraction. He’s a revelation – the total package.

A towering achievement for genre-filmmaking and cinema in general, SINNERS is a guaranteed blood-drenched hoot and holler. It’s tagged with mid-credits and post-credits codas, so make sure to stay seated.

Grade: A

SINNERS opens in theaters on April 18.