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Sinners: A Haunting Reimagining of Black Horror and Myth

Vampires, the blood-sucking, mythological undead, are a staple in pop culture across film and TV. Often used as a metaphor for sex, sin and a surplus of societal desires, as the years have gone on, their depictions have evolved beyond pale, white men from Transylvania, to more complex explorations of  human consciousness and behaviour. Ryan Coogler's Sinners, out in cinemas now , is a masterful blend of historic realism and supernatural horror, set against the backdrop of 1930s Mississippi – and this time, sets vampires up under the guise of colonialism. 


The film follows twins Elijah "Smoke" and Elias "Stack" (both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan) as they return to their hometown after serving in World War I and becoming big time gangsters in Chicago. Their ambition to establish a legitimate nightclub business is met with resistance. The first stumbling block is logistics-based – staffing, timing, nothing too unusual. The second? Racial oppression – again, nothing new. The third hurdle however - the emergence of supernatural vampiric forces on opening night? A pretty unique one, and frankly, entirely inconvenient. 



Two men in vintage attire stand by a red car. One wears a blue cap, the other a red hat. Rustic building and pole in the background, under a cloudy sky.
Michael B Jordan as "Smoke/Stack" Credit: Warner Bros

Coogler's direction delves deep into Black mythology, using the vampire genre as a metaphor for the predatory cultural forces that have historically exploited Black creativity. There’s a scene about an hour into the film, and it takes place in the newly established juke joint, and it’s a remarkable show of the importance of music, both for the film and for the characters in it. It’s the connection between the past, the present and the future, and offers up escapism and refuge. 


The film's visual storytelling is enhanced by cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw, whose work contrasts the natural beauty of the South with its oppressive history. The first hour of the film is where both Arkapaw and Coogler take their time, and it’s the perfect choice. The opening hour is an intricate display of world-building, easing the audience into the deep South, painting them a world they can really sink their teeth in – pun absolutely intended.


Another strength of Sinners lies deeply in its ensemble cast, whose chemistry elevates the film’s layered narrative. Michael B. Jordan delivers a dual performance with subtlety and finesse, playing twins who embody opposing energies—one grounded and weary, the other ambitious and volatile. But it's in his scenes with relative newcomer Miles Caton, as the mysterious and musically-gifted Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore, that sparks the film’s  most electric moments. Caton brings a raw, almost ethereal presence that contrasts Jordan’s hardened charisma, and their dynamic feels like an allegory for a meeting between trauma and hope. 



A man plays guitar in a dimly lit wooden room. People gather around, smiling and clapping. Warm tones create a cozy, lively atmosphere.
Miles Caton as "Sammie", Delroy Lindo as "Delta Slim" and Jayme Lawson as "Pearline"

The cast is rounded out by seasoned actors like Delroy Lindo, whose role as an ‘old-head’ musician-slash-alcoholic, grounds the film in spiritual authority and provides some real laugh-out-loud moments, and English actor Jack O’Connell, whose unsettling portrayal of a culturally predatory Irish-immigrant vampire adds a chilling transatlantic layer to the story. Despite their different acting and geographic backgrounds, the cast melds together seamlessly, embodying the tension and tenderness of a world on the brink of transformation. By the end of the film, some of the characters feel slightly underserved, but this is likely more testament to the idea that we could have spent longer than the 137 minute run-time in their world with them.


The collaboration between Ryan Coogler and composer Ludwig Göransson in Sinners is, once again, a revelation. Göransson, a frequent Coogler collaborator, crafts a score in Sinners that is both ancestral and otherworldly. Drawing from blues, Southern gospel, early jazz and more, the soundtrack pulses with the spirit of both Black resistance and Black reinvention. But Göransson doesn’t stop at homage, he distorts and blends these genres with eerie undertones, mirroring the vampiric transformation at the heart of the film. The result is a soundtrack that doesn’t just accompany the film, but haunts it. 


Sinners is excellent. Not only is it a fun, thrilling, visually stunning, well-paced film, but it’s also a moving exploration of identity, historical trauma and the need for cultural preservation. Coogler has crafted a film that should resonate with all audiences, providing a profound cinematic experience rooted in terror, horror, wit and the sharpest of humour.

 ★ ★ ★ ☆

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