Sinners

 

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.