In 1932, Elijah
“Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore (Michael B. Jordan), twin veterans of World War
I and the Chicago underworld, return to Clarksdale, Mississippi to open up a
juke joint. They recruit their younger cousin Sammie (Miles Caton), an aspiring
musician, against the wishes of his preacher father (Saul Williams) and bring
old friends and lovers into the fold. While the opening of their establishment draws
out the Black community, it also attracts the attention of Remmick (Jack
O’Connell), an Irish vampire who sees in Sammie a way to connect to his
ancestors.
Writer-director
Ryan Coogler has never been one to be constrained by genre. To a body of work
that includes the hard-hitting biopic Fruitvale Station, the franchise-rejuvenating
Rocky spinoff Creed, and the Afro-futurist spectacle Black Panther,
he adds a mashup of neo-noir and Southern Gothic horror. The craftsmanship, the
thematic focus on the dispossessed, and several recurring collaborators remain
constants, but to a greater extent than his previous films, Sinners sees
Coogler taking more cinematic risks. For the most part, they pay off bountifully.
Both
visually and narratively, Sinners is full of striking period detail. The
promise of the open road that the Moores traverse is punctuated by the sights
of chain gangs and segregated stores while the raucous dancing of their
opening-night celebration is darkly mirrored by the jig-performing vampires
massing outside. Ludwig Gonarsson, Coogler’s go-to composer, outdoes himself
here, offering a soundtrack that honors the Delta blues while reaching well
beyond them. It features contributions from the likes of blues legends Buddy
Guy (who also has a rare acting role) and Bobby Rush but also folk singer Rhiannon
Giddens and Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich as well as several of the musically
inclined members of the cast (Caton, O’Connell, Hailee Steinfeld, and Lola
Kirke, among others).
The cast
is rock-solid as well. Jordan – Coogler’s regular leading man – overdoes the
Mississippi accent at times, but he otherwise succeeds in giving two very
different performances as the cold, quiet, resolute Smoke and the friendlier,
more charismatic Stack. In shades of one of Jordan’s best-known roles (Black
Panther’s Erik “Killmonger” Stevens), O’Connell brings a sense of tragedy to a
ruthless character willing to commit reprehensible acts. Even the supporting roles
that seem stereotypical at first glance – a conjure woman who knows how to ward
off evil and a perpetually drunk old bluesman — are given touches of complexity
thanks to both Coogler’s script and the work of capable actors like Wunmi
Mosaku and Delroy Lindo.
Speaking
of the script, it manages to weave together many disparate influences (fans of Devil
in a Blue Dress and From Dusk Till Dawn take note) without
collapsing. The Moores’ names are pointedly Biblical and Sammie is loosely
based on Robert Johnson, but Coogler wisely avoids making Remmick
one-dimensionally devilish. The Irish vampire, who fled the English and many
others since, tries to sell turning his victims as a means of providing them
the egalitarianism that society will forever deny African Americans…albeit at
the cost of their individuality. It’s a pointed critique, but thanks to the
film’s energy, Sinners never slows down enough to feel pedantic. It isn’t
until the prolonged final quarter or so when the contrived coincidences and
conveniences begin to pile up to the point of distraction, but even the
comparatively weak ending doesn’t come close to torpedoing the movie.
Some might
argue that there is enough horror in history to make Coogler’s metaphorical
marriage of the two unnecessary. However, it is unlikely that a more
straightforward period drama would be able to captivate to the extent that Sinners
does.
