Written by Mariane Tremblay
"There are legends of people born with the gift of making music so true it can pierce the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and the future. In ancient Ireland, they were called Filí. In Choctaw land, they called them Firekeepers. And in West Africa, they’re called Griots. This gift can bring healing to their communities, but it also attracts evil."
Sinners is a Southern Gothic horror-action film written and directed by Ryan Coogler. Set in the Mississippi Delta of 1932, it follows twins Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore (both played by Michael B. Jordan, who delivers an outstanding performance in this dual role), as they return home after serving in World War I and spending years working for Al Capone in Chicago. With money stolen from gangsters, they decide to buy a rundown sawmill from a racist landowner (who swears the KKK doesn’t exist anymore), planning to transform it into a juke joint for the local Black community. They're soon joined by their cousin Sammie (Miles Caton, a standout and revelation), a aspiring guitarist chasing a dream of music and freedom, despite the fire-and-brimstone warnings of his preacher father, who calls the blues “the devil’s music”. What was supposed to be a tremendous and freeing day takes a more sinister turn than expected...
This film is a wild, unforgettable ride that lingers long after its 138-minute runtime. Though the film begins slowly, following the twins as they gather supplies and rally the right people to open their juke joint that same night, it never loses momentum. From the first frame to the last, it’s charged with tension, a rich atmosphere, and clear intention. Every scene, every beat, pulls you deeper into its world—I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. At one point, I even found myself leaning forward, heart pounding, breath held, as if I might miss something if I blinked. This isn’t just suspense—it’s an immersive experience that demands your full attention and doesn’t let go until the credits roll.
One of the film’s most immediately striking features is its cinematography. Sinners is the first movie ever shot simultaneously in Ultra Panavision 70 and IMAX—and the result is breathtaking. Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw explains that Sinners uses its visuals in a way that truly enhances the story; the wide shots give the film a grand, cinematic scope that matches its epic narrative. When the film transitions into IMAX, however, the intimacy shifts—everything feels more personal, as though you’re being invited into the characters’ inner worlds. This change in scale pulls you closer, deepening the emotional impact and making the experience all the more immersive.
On the surface, Sinners delivers as a gripping vampire flick, but beneath its blood-soaked exterior lies something far more haunting: a raw, unflinching look at racism in the Jim Crow South. Named after a derogatory caricature of African Americans, Jim Crow laws were a series of state and local statutes that enforced racial segregation across the Southern United States from the late 19th through the early 20th century. This oppressive backdrop gives the film much of its power, grounding its supernatural horror in the brutal realities of a divided America. While fictional, Sinners is deeply rooted in the historical and cultural realities of the era, using genre conventions to explore themes of race, identity, cultural preservation, and resilience.
Backed by Ludwig Göransson’s stunning score (arguably the best of the year), Coogler delivers a masterclass in genre storytelling, seamlessly blending horror with historical critique. Vampires serve as a powerful allegory for white supremacy, reframing the myth through a lens of exploitation and appropriation. The film’s antagonist, Remmick (Jack O’Connell), is a vampire who feeds not only on blood but also on sound, specifically Blues music, embodying the long history of white profiteering off Black creativity. Through this lens, Sinners becomes more than a horror film; it transforms into a bold, resonant meditation on cultural theft and the enduring spirit of Black artistry.
Remmick, an Irish immigrant vampire, represents the outsider’s journey from marginalization to complicity with the very power structures they once opposed. His story mirrors the historical trajectory of Irish immigrants in the United States, who, after enduring discrimination, ultimately assimilated into “whiteness” and distanced themselves from other marginalized groups. Sinners delves into this complex transformation, offering a layered exploration of assimilation as both a survival strategy and a loss. It highlights how immigrant communities, shaped by struggles in their homelands, often adopt oppressive systems to endure in a new society, becoming agents of oppression themselves while forfeiting aspects of their cultural identity.
“There are legends of people born with the gift of making music so true it can pierce the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and the future.”
There’s a scene in Sinners—a haunting, transcendent oner—that refuses to leave my mind. It’s the kind of moment that lingers long after the screen fades to black, where every frame feels like it’s reaching beyond the story into something spiritual. Set during a juke joint performance that gradually transforms into something surreal and sacred, the sequence captures the very soul of the film: music is not just sound, but also a memory, a form of resistance, and a legacy. Through joy and sorrow, pain and triumph, music endures. It preserves culture, reclaims space, and connects people across generations and cultures. Coogler and cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw anchor this moment with such intention and emotional weight that it transcends genre entirely. It’s a reminder that even in the face of systemic violence and fear, art—and especially Black art—has the power to outlast, outshine, and outlive. Sinners isn’t just about vampires or survival; at its core, it’s a celebration of how music carries memory, identity, and resistance through time.
Sinners isn’t just a film you watch—you feel it. It’s the kind of film that demands to be seen on the biggest screen possible. It’s Coogler’s love letter to the theatrical experience, and it shows. He made me fall in love with cinema all over again.
Photo credits : Warner Bros
Previoulsy posted on Offscreen Central
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