Conor Bryce joyfully sinks his teeth into this review of Sinners.
Rich, multi-layered, transcendent and genre-bending, Sinners is a masterpiece. This calling card for director Ryan Coogler is a mastery of storytelling — bursting with creativity and purpose. It’s an instant vampire classic. And like the best entries in the horror genre, it’s so much more.
Allow me to parrot Coogler and encourage seeing Sinners in the cinema. Not just for the visuals — don’t get me wrong, they’re gorgeous; two scenes in particular will leave their mark on your mind. But this is a movie you need to hear big. Immersive and vital, Ludwig Göransson’s Blues-soaked score kidnaps your soul for a few hours. Sinners is a movie about music — about music’s ability to hold you captive in a moment, then set you free for life. About music as metaphor for an entire culture — as a gift and a curse, as power, as a magnet for good and for evil.
And music as supernatural conduit is where we begin. An opening narration plants us firmly between the worlds of the living and the dead, and champions musicians through the ages — from the ancient Irish Filídh to Native American Fire Keepers — as the bridge between the two.
From here, we’re dropped into a gloriously sun-drenched Mississippi in the early 1930s. Twin brothers Smoke and Stack (both Michael B. Jordan) are back home after two stints as soldiers — one globetrotting during the First World War and one in Chicago in the employ of one Alphonse Capone. Due to some shady business that’s never fully explained, they’re cash-rich and itching to open a juke joint, first buying a ramshackle mill from a condescending maybe-Klansman, then splitting up to find the people they need to fill it with music, food, strong drink and stronger vibes. Before they do, they pick up younger cousin Sammie (newcomer Miles Caton), a pastor’s son with an astonishing gift for playing and singing the Blues — despite his father’s warning that it’ll lead him to sinful ruin.
The twins strut around town recruiting who they need to make their joint sing, and we meet most of the other players — including Smoke’s wife Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), a cook with a sideline in voodoo that’ll come in handy; Stack’s ex Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), back in town to bury her mother and potentially a lot of unwanted attention and trouble for the brothers, as she passes for white; fast-talking old virtuoso Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo); and Bo and Grace (Yao and Li Jun Li), two Chinese-American shopkeepers able to supply food and signage.
Everyone eventually ends up in the same joint, the juke begins jumping, and both twins and young cousin attempt to navigate past and future relationships. Smoke and Stack are also lumbered with wanting to give their guests an escape from the long shadow of slavery and poverty — while also needing the venture to make money.
It’s worth noting that we’re now a good hour into the movie and nary a neck has been nibbled. In lesser hands, this world-building would be in danger of dragging — but with Coogler, you want more. It’s where we fall in love and in line with our protagonists, and why the second half’s shift hits like the best genre-blenders. The cast is uniformly excellent — secondary characters who would be mere fodder in a lesser effort are given room to make a mark. Mosaku and Steinfeld are not just the estranged lovers left behind, and Lindo’s Delta Slim is given a great flashback scene to soliloquise — heard but not seen — showcasing his trademark character actor craft.
Michael B. Jordan may headline — and he is reliable as ever for frequent collaborator Coogler in dual roles that look and feel different without being showy — but it’s really Miles Caton’s movie. A child prodigy with gospel royalty in his blood (he’s the son of singer Timiney Figueroa), it’s hard to believe it’s his first acting role. From innocent and unsure to headlining the night’s festivities with swagger — both musically and dramatically — Caton calibrates it perfectly. When Jordan’s Stack gapes in shock and wonder as he first hears Caton’s Sammie strum and sing, we’re right there with him. Caton makes it easy to believe in the opening narration’s premise.
And as the night reaches its zenith and Sammie takes to the stage to perform his ode to Daddy (“I Lied to You”), the first of the unforgettable moments unfolds around his mastery of the Blues. To spoil it in detail would be to kill something beautiful for you. It’s easily one of the best depictions of the power of music put to film. If you’ve ever given your soul to a song, Coogler sees you. With the dizzying cinematography of Autumn Durald Arkapaw — surely already in contention for Oscar glory — and Göransson’s extraordinary score blending to bring it to life, if anyone asks me to describe music’s ability to transcend time and place, I’ll simply point them to this scene. I found myself leaning so far forward in my seat I was practically levitating. It will stay with me forever.
It’s here that we’re finally introduced to the vampires — led by Jack O’Connell’s Irish bloodsucker, Remmick. Drawn to Sammie’s canny ability to make magic with his music, Remmick believes Sammie’s gift is key to him connecting with the spirits of his lost community. And thus, the night goes straight to hell. What follows may feel somewhat formulaic in places — touching on the ‘heroes-under-siege’ greatest hits — but there’s enough style and energy on display that you simply won’t care. Settle in for a nightmarish bloodbath of a ride, with the good guys trying to make it through to sunrise while the monsters skulk in the shadows outside. Held back from mass slaughter by that tried-and-tested ‘no invite, no entry’ vampire trope, Remmick and co. lean on temptation to lure the juke’s patrons outside to the dinner plate.
Remmick’s roots aren’t given much room to breathe, but what’s there still makes for a fascinating character. An Irish immigrant, Remmick is a victim of colonialism and forced religion — but his hypocrisy is glaring. He comes with a tempting offer, championing vampirism as a form of true colourblind equality. But he isn’t asking. He’s telling.
It’s a fascinating take on the vampire — best encapsulating the heart of Coogler’s message in the second of Sinners’ standout set pieces. As the remaining protagonists huddle and plan, Remmick leads those he’s turned (by this stage, there are plenty) in a raucous sesh in a field, belting out “Rocky Road to Dublin” and dancing with wild abandon — a celebration of togetherness… or is it? A dark mirror to Sammie’s earlier performance, the scene is there to tempt both protagonists and audience. This is the only time in the film when all races sing from the same hymn sheet — and in that moment, being a vampire seems like being at the best party in the world. And let’s not forget the kindred ancestry on display — with both the song and dance outlawed by British Penal Laws during Remmick’s long lifetime, he’s also been a victim of cultural oppression.
Looking a little deeper, we can see this isn’t a moment of joyous unity — this is Remmick gleefully revelling in his dominion and mastery of the juke’s patrons, mocking the survivors, literally dancing a jig over his victims’ souls using their bodies as puppets. It’s a promise of utopia at the cost of your own identity. It’s colonisation masked as freedom, being forced on a people who don’t want it. He can sing every rebel song he knows, but ultimately he’s going to feed off them — just like every other white saviour figure they’ve likely dealt with — and call it salvation.
Visually, Sinners’ lineage is diverse. Since its release, Coogler has shared a letter of thanks with Variety, naming many cinematic inspirations — with more obvious entrants (Johns Carpenter and Singleton, Stephen King, Jordan Peele) sharing space alongside surprising influencers (George Lucas and Nicolas Roeg in the same list?). Most notably, there’s more than a touch of Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass, Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk Till Dawn, and Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hess on display.
It’s hard to talk about a movie this good without gushing — but I could continue hyping it up here for another thousand words and you’d still end up blown away. There’s too much going on under the hood to cover in one review. I haven’t crowed about how sexy it is… nothing gratuitous, but real, complicated, grown-up sex. I haven’t mentioned the Native American vampire hunters chasing Remmick (spin-off now, please). I haven’t said enough about those standout sequences (I don’t think I ever could). The internet is already awash with multiple essays on its themes, tone and style — and after watching, I recommend a deep dive.
This is something special. Fearless and inventive, combining so many tropes and themes into one source sounds like a mess on paper — but Coogler makes it sing. This film’s universal resonance will be talked about long after its second post-credits stinger (stay to the bittersweet end, folks).
Clocking in at just under two and a half hours, Sinners could be accused of indulgence. But let us horror fans indulge. Hell, let us feast.
Sinners is in cinemas 18th April 2025.
