“Before the sun went down, I think that was the best day of my life,” Sammie Moore said, reminiscing in his cousin’s eyes. Just for a few hours, strumming, dancing, laughing and loving in the Mississippi Delta, they were free.
Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” has quickly become a word-of-mouth phenomenon this spring, sinking its fangs deep into the cultural jugular. As buzz surrounding the film continues to spread viciously, prompting a return to IMAX screens later this month, its industry significance grows in tandem.
Although Coogler has amassed a serious artistic reputation over the years, the “Black Panther,” “Fruitvale Station” and “Creed” writer/director has never tackled an entirely original script. But as beautiful as it is to behold, “Sinners” represents much more than a talented filmmaker striking gold with his own pan; it proves inspired blockbuster cinema is an accessible dream supported by a salivating fandom. It reawakens the idea that big-budget spectacles with mass audience appeal can and should possess the chops for awards consideration. Believe the hype.
“Sinners” traces the surprise return of hotshot gangsters, the Smokestack Twins (Michael B. Jordan), to their humble Mississippi Delta origins. With the help of friends, family and lovers — past and present — they utilize their riches to open a juke joint in an old sawmill. What begins as a liberating night guided by blues and community devolves into a blood-soaked clash with an unforeseen evil.
Once again, Coogler takes advantage of big-budget funding and genre expectations, using thrilling scares and well-researched period work as a vessel for subtext. “Sinners” glues together past and present Black histories, exploring the troubling, constant dilemma between forced assimilation and controlled safety versus complete freedom. Music is the energizing force that invigorates the film to life, just as it is the healing, communal product that bridges together generation after generation of marginalized communities.
Ludwig Göransson’s outstanding score begins as a twangy, plucky ode to rural blues and evolves into an electric, monstrous soundscape. One second, you’re chilling on the porch vibing to some harmonica; the next, you’re drowning in a thunderous and pulsing evil — an elegant mix of classic and modern, light and dark.
The first act of the film is a masterclass in world-building, teeming with vim and intrigue, marinating in the calmness and anticipation shared before the grand opening. Coogler frames a dusty, sweltering landscape chock-full of old-timey personalities and gorgeous 1930s sets.
As the sun dips below the horizon line, overlooking endless cotton fields, the film transitions into the warmly lit juke joint, where chaos ensues. Coogler fully explores his confined environment, offering an unforgettable, surreal “oner” that incorporates sound, dance and costuming plucked from decades of music history.
Although the sudden shift into creature feature feels a tad jolting initially, the vampiric scares and gung-ho action are a joy to watch.
Seamlessly blended into the environment as two distinct individuals, Jordan confidently charms with a thick Southern drawl. Both Smoke and Stack feel very much their own, rather than two sides of the same coin, each stoic and vulnerable in different ways. Their love for each other permeates the entire runtime and fills the film’s emotional core.
Newcomer Miles Caton is a revelation as the twins’ younger cousin Sammie, a preacher boy fighting his father’s pleas to give up “Devil’s music.” His trench-deep voice is a suave contrast to his youthful ambition. When he picks up his guitar and hums a soulful tune, his voice bursts from the screen, curating moments I could relax in forever.
The supporting cast, including turns from Hailee Steinfeld and Wunmi Mosaku as the twins’ past love interests, is strewn with charismatic, hilarious and ferocious performances. Delroy Lindo, who was egregiously robbed of an Academy Award nomination for his role in “Da 5 Bloods,” perfectly inhabits Delta Slim, a drunken old head, local blues legend and loyal protector of his community. Jack O’Connell plays lead villain Remmick with an oddball edge. He’s creepy and goofy without feeling cliche.
“Sinners” is a cinematic behemoth — Coogler’s answer to an industry allergic to risk. It’s a genre-bending reckoning that howls with cultural memory — a fever dream stitched together by blood and blues. If one thing’s for sure, we’ll be talking about this one for a long time.
Popcorn rating: 4.5/5 bags of popcorn
