Patton Oswalt once told a story that I’m going to misquote, but hopefully represent here with some level of accuracy. He told of a time that he was drinking at a crustpunk bar when a customer came in only to be immediately and firmly kicked out by the bartender, despite his polite protestations that he had money to spend and didn’t want any trouble. Oswalt asked the bartender what happened, and it was explained that the rebuffed customer had a variety of Nazi symbols on his vest. The bartender further mused that it doesn’t matter if the guy was polite, because if you let one Nazi into the establishment, he may soon bring some polite friends, and before long, the once innocent crustpunk bar has become a Nazi bar, and at that point it would be too late to do anything.
It’s a story about the paradox of tolerance, and it’s one I thought about a few times during Sinners, a film that’s as much about said paradox as it is about group identity as it is about creation vs appropriation as it is about vampires. Ryan Coogler, with his first non-franchise film since his very first film ever, has created something special with his Mississippi Delta monster flick, which repurposes the mythology of vampires (who can only come in if you let them in) to thematically rich ends, and in doing so, has cemented his status as one of cinema’s great storytellers.
And I should add that it’s the first time in a long time that a vampire movie was absolutely fucking terrifying.
Michael B. Jordan plays the Smokestack Twins, individually referred to as Smoke and Stack, a duo of upwardly mobile sharecroppers who have returned to their Mississippi home from a mysterious sojourn in the mob-controlled streets Chicago. They’ve got plenty of cash and copious amounts of rare booze to throw around, with the stated goal of making their very own juke joint. Being 1932, the social options for non-whites are limited, and both Smoke and Stack, the former being the businessman of the duo, and the latter being a somewhat looser cannon, wish to rectify that on their very first night back in town. They’ve purchased a barn from a shady, well-off white man, and with the hired help of friends and family, they want their opening night to be a banger.
And it will be. Just not necessarily the way they planned. Ya know, because vampires.
Coogler’s script deftly balances tones and genres, from historical drama to survival horror, and does so by basing every story development in character. While there’s no denying that Jordan is the star(s) of the show, what emerges over the film’s runtime is ultimately an ensemble piece, with each player connected across a web of stories and histories, all of which emerge organically — not an ounce of exposition is clunky or forced. The first half of the film is devoted to building these connections and giving the viewer a feel for the beautifully crafted setting, and once that’s out of the way (a poor turn of phrase since I simply never wanted it to end), we get to the propulsive and terrifying back half, in which our ragtag group of friends and family must square off against an growing cabal of vampires led by Remnick (a deliciously insidious Jack O’Connell), who, in a previous life, was an Irish immigrant.
The racial politics of the time hang over every moment, but the obvious angle of white v Black/vampire v human is not what Coogler seems to be going for. There’s something more textured and dense in the thematic framework, which is bolstered by the story’s strong connection to music. In perhaps the performance of the film, Miles Caton plays Sammie Moore, a talented blues musician whose skill is so tremendous that the bloodsucking creatures of the night wish to possess it. In one astonishing and surreal long take, Sammie entertains the crowd, conjuring the images of centuries of Black musicians, all of whom join in on the party and contribute to the score. It’s a staggering scene that, for all its in-your-face linking of imagery to thematics, knocked me flat on my ass. It’s rock-and-roll filmmaking of the highest order, and it’s in service of a tale as old as Black culture — genuine creation coveted by those who wish to exploit it.
Just a taste is all the vampires claim to want, but it’s never just a taste, is it? To this end there is a fair amount of sex in this movie, with each instance tied, quite orally, to the notion of tasting someone’s unique offerings — as if flavor can grant understanding. On a personal note, I love when adult material is used in a way that is both effective for the story and reverent to the human animal. It’s rare that a film isn’t afraid to be horny, and applies its libido well beyond simple titillation. Here the application serves to connect humans to the vampires, and vice versa. We are all creatures with desires, and we are all, to a degree, sinners.
The cast is rounded out by Li Jun Li, a fiery shopkeeper/artist, Delroy Lindo as a hard-drinking, coldly logical musician, and Wunmi Mosaku as Annie, the former lover of Smoke, and the community’s local voodoo practitioner whose skills come in handy on this cursed night. A longer, smarter, more spoilery piece could dig into what each character brings to the table in a story sense, but it’s best to let the movie do the talking. Know this, however: this is a damn near perfect roster of performances, and Jordan’s dual role is far from a gimmick (although it does provide Coogler and opportunity to show off his chops — Smoke and Stack physically interact a LOT and I have no clue how it was done).
Sinners is a terrific piece of filmmaking craft, and it demands to be seen on the biggest screen you can manage. Portions were shot with IMAX cameras, and trust me when I say that you will want to see these overpowering images in their fullest capacity. From the golden, dusty fields to the sweaty, pulsating dance floor, to the period accurate costume/production design, Sinners is a film replete with texture and detail that envelops the viewer in its world entirely. Helpful to this end is the comprehensive score from Ludwig Göransson, which ranges from folk to blues to smooth jazz to heavy metal, often within a single scene. The score melds flawlessly with diegetic music from a similarly wide array of genres (the vampires play Irish folk tunes!).
By the time the film reaches its explosive final reel, it’s hardly an exaggeration to say that not a single ass was in contact with its respective seat in the theater. Sinners is a phenomenally entertaining picture and a remarkable feat of cinematic craftsmanship. It’s as funny as it is romantic as it is scary, with a thematic density matched only by its unrelenting pace. It’s hopeful, it’s sad, it’s upsetting, it’s joyous. It’s a movie that I cannot wait to watch many times over just to mine from its incredible depth some new seed of thought on which to ruminate while the nightmare factory in my head comes up with reasons to keep me awake way past my bedtime.
And since you can take the man out of the MCU, but you can’t take the MCU out of the man, please be advised that there is both a mid-credits and end credits sequence which together provide a satisfying and unexpectedly touching coda to what seemed, just minutes prior, like a complete story.
Again, pay for an IMAX ticket. You will not regret it.
Directed by Ryan Coogler
Written by Ryan Coogler
Starring Michael B. Jordan, Michael B. Jordan, Miles Caton, Jack O’Connell, Yao
Rated R, 137 minutes
