Sinners: Gory, Seductive Vampires and the Power of Music

In simpler terms, Ryan Coogler’s thrilling horror film “Sinners” starts off mysteriously, much like a puzzling blues chord that leaves you wondering what’s happening. A young man, his face marked with fresh claw marks, approaches a small rural church with the remnants of a guitar. The guitar is barely recognizable; only the neck remains, a bloody stick with broken strings attached to it, suggesting it was either played extensively or used as a weapon. Upon opening the church door, his father, the preacher, welcomes him back, assuming he’s escaped from some evil influence. However, whether this marks the end of his trial or the beginning remains uncertain until the movie concludes, and even then, you’re left with the feeling that there’s more to the story that hasn’t been fully revealed.

The reason why the novel “Sinners“, set in 1932 Clarksdale Mississippi, is so impactful – so eerie, so captivating, and at times darkly comical – is its approach to enigma, refusing to provide overly explicit explanations. Director Coogler, who also penned the script, understands how swiftly the present becomes the future, yet recognizes that the past, despite appearing distant, continues to linger.

In essence, “Sinners” explores the enigma of vampires – eternal outsiders longing for acceptance, but whose alluring promises are born from deceit. However, its primary focus lies in the mystery of music: for centuries, white and Black communities seemed to perceive and experience music differently, until the sounds they were producing blended and morphed into a sonic futureworld that remains in development even today.

The novel is characterized by its gory, seductive, merciless nature. Yet it carries a sense of longing as well – as if its characters have glimpsed a potential for freedom, unity, and joy that, nearly 100 years later, remains elusive.

As a captivated spectator, I find myself drawn to Michael B. Jordan’s portrayal of twin brothers, Smoke and Stack, who return home to the Mississippi Delta after their harrowing experiences in World War I and life in Chicago. Dressed impeccably by the talented Ruth E. Carter, they don dapper woolen suits with waistcoats and gold watch chains. Their immediate goal is to purchase a rundown house where they intend to establish a vibrant juke joint later that very evening. The house is sold by a corrupt, racist local named Hogwood, played by David Maldonado.

Smoke and Stack secretly store a truckload of alcohol nearby and enlist the help of old friends such as Bo and Grace Chow, Chinese immigrants who run the general store, to create signs for their establishment and supply essential ingredients for the food. For entertainment, they recruit a talented blues pianist and harmonica player, Delta Slim, played by Delroy Lindo, who is going through tough times.

They also introduce a fresh talent: Sammie (Miles Caton), the twins’ cousin, who is making his film debut and shows great promise as a guitar prodigy. His father, a church pastor, wishes for him to dedicate his life and music to God, but Sammie yearns for more. He feels an irresistible calling towards music that can summon spirits from the past, present, and future, and even pierce the veil between life and death.

In the movie’s opening scene, a seductive voiceover hints at the power of music to do just that. Sammie embodies this passion, as he strums his guitar, expressing feelings beyond words, capturing the essence of intimate moments like skin-on-skin contact, secretive, passionate kisses, and the first taste of a honey-smothered biscuit. His music has the power to charm even the devil himself.

During their stay in town, Smoke and Stack discuss the success of their grand opening event, which eventually draws a large crowd that same night. The establishment proves popular, despite the chaos of music, merriment, and crowded dancing, with Smoke and Stack keeping busy managing various aspects such as preventing patrons from trying to pay with fake coins. However, Stack is less than pleased to see Hailee Steinfeld’s character, Mary, an old friend visiting for her mother’s funeral. Their relationship is complicated, and it deepens further throughout the night. Meanwhile, Smoke seeks assistance and delicious cuisine from a woman named Annie (played by Wunmi Mosaku), who practices hoodoo and can cook enough catfish to feed a large crowd. The intricacies of their past become more evident in the film’s climactic ending that blends violence and poetry.

At boisterous gatherings, gate crashes are often a possibility. In this instance, three strangers, hillbilly musicians carrying fiddles and questionable intentions, attempt to enter the party, sparking confusion and wariness among Smoke, Stack, and Cornbread (Omar Benson Miller), who serve as the door personnel. These musicians claim to admire the music emanating from Smoke and Stack’s makeshift clubhouse. To demonstrate their authenticity, they perform a song of their own – “Pick Poor Robin Clean,” a tune previously popularized by Geeshie Wiley and Elvie Thomas. However, the trio gives the melody a polished, white adaptation that feels uneasy and disconcerting. The crowd, including Smoke, Stack, and other attendees, hesitates, unsure whether to welcome these outsiders into their midst. They appear harmless – perhaps – but should they be allowed entry?

Of course, you’re well aware that they’ve arrived seeking blood, and they shall find it. Ryan Coogler, known for his intelligent and artfully crafted films such as Fruitvale Station, Black Panther, and Creed, continues this trend with the movie Sinners. Its narrative is both concise and seamless. Coogler skillfully directs two breathtaking scenes: In one, a pivotal moment, music played by Sammie brings forth spirits from various eras—ranging from West African griots in colorful robes to ’80s breakdancers and ’90s rappers, all the way to a Bootsy Collins-style funk artist bedecked in sequins and platforms. In another scene, an eerily thrilling sequence unfolds as black and white individuals partake in a vampiric dance outdoors, bound by one forbidden desire and synchronizing their movements with the traditional Irish ballad “Wild Mountain Thyme.” Despite being hillbilly music, it resonates with the blues: in the 1930s, these two genres were unable to harmonize, yet each was reaching out towards the other. (It’s no surprise that Elvis emerged during this time.)

I spent half the movie “Sinners” peeking between my fingers and the other half with my mouth agape. It’s entertaining, wild, and appropriately sleazy. Despite occasional graphic scenes, Coogler implies more than he actually displays. He draws inspiration from Robert Rodriguez’s films like “From Dusk Til Dawn” and “The Faculty”, but the movie also echoes Kathryn Bigelow’s 1987 film “Near Dark”, where a band of vampires roam modern-day Oklahoma in a van with darkened windows. And as a warning, if you leave before the end credits roll, you might miss the blues legend Buddy Guy making an appearance – and you wouldn’t want to do that!

The essence lies in how Coogler subtly incorporates his themes into the narrative, as opposed to presenting them in a straightforward manner like a religious pamphlet. Although the movie is set in the Jim Crow south, a region where Black Americans faced constant struggles for their dignity and were often met with oppression, its portrayal of racial dynamics – and possibly future racial harmony – is nuanced and multi-layered. When Remmick, Bert, and Judy arrive at the club, they present an alluring prospect to Smoke, Stack, and everyone else present. Remmick, with a sincere expression (or what seems like it), expresses their beliefs: “We value music and equality.” He adds, his eyes sparkling with Irish charm, “Can’t we, just for one night, be one family?” The significance of the scene doesn’t lie in the fact that Smoke, Stack, Sammie, and their companions, standing near the door to listen to the white strangers, appear skeptical about Remmick’s call for unity. Instead, it lies in the fact that they struggle to conceal their longing to believe him.

Essentially, Sinners is a story about what unites us rather than what separates us. Occasionally, we experience this unity through music, dancing, conversation, and shared laughter. Our misfortune lies in the fact that even in these moments, we often forget that we all share the same life essence – blood.

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2025-04-18 23:06

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