SINNERS
By Eric Lindbom
In writer/director Ryan Coogler’s feverishly exuberant SINNERS (in theaters), we’re told up front that some musicians can “pierce the veil between life and death.” Young but raw Delta blues guitar slinger Sammie (Miles Caton, a first-time actor and gospel singer) possesses that mojo, and his preacher father warns him, “You keep dancing with the devil, one day he’s going to follow you home.” Sure enough, Sammie’s licks and soulful vocals dog whistle some vampires who descend on his small Mississippi town in 1932.
Sammie’s skills also wow his twin cousins, both played by Coogler’s magnetic, five-time go-to star Michael B Jordan. After a stint in Chicago as hit men for Al Capone, they’ve returned home to open a juke joint flush with ill-gained cash. They are named Smoke and Stack (in a tip of the cap to “Smokestack Lightning,” a seminal single by Mississippi native Howlin’ Wolf who also made hay bringing electric blues to the Windy City).
To our benefit, Coogler takes his sweet time introducing his well-drawn characters. A partial list includes Smoke’s sometime wife Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), who understands the occult, Stack’s ex-girlfriend Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), a mixed-race woman who passes for white and isn’t happy he dumped her and Delta Slim, a sodden blues pianist paid by the bottle (Delroy Lindo goes to town earning belly laughs). These scenes are earthy, funny, and build genuine rooting interest.
There’s also a welcoming sense of place, as production designer Hannah Beachler surrounds us with a bustling period town, beautifully evoked by cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who used two large-format film systems: Ultra Panavision 70 and IMAX 15-perf to bring an extra wide aspect ratio.
Sammie slays the euphoric crowd at the juke joint’s opening night with a transcendent performance that bonds generations from the past and the future. Coogler drives this point home with an ingenious conceit. He fills the floor in a mind-blowing number with dancers from different eras — locals, Africans, and yet unborn funksters! Sammie’s performance also lures a trio of well-mannered, white vampires seeking to harness his supernatural gift. Their leader (Jack O’Connell) is a courtly, untrustworthy Irishman, who wonders why Sammie and the twins don’t want to join up as immortal ghouls versus living under the yoke of Jim Crow laws and an active KKK chapter waiting to bounce.
Without resorting to reciting the Van Helsing laundry list of vampire insecticides, Coogler makes shrewd use of the trope about the undead’s inability to cross a threshold without invitation. When denied entry to the club, the vampires return with an army of newly recruited bloodsuckers who dance Irish jigs with the foot-stomping thuds of a homicidal River Dance troupe. Then, genteel gloves off, they go feral with hitching post-sized fangs that don’t leave puncture marks on necks but gnarly gouges.
From here on in, Coogler shifts into overdrive, bringing his formidable action chops from his two BLACK PANTHERS and CREED to the forefront. The pace is kinetic, and the attacks ferocious enough to sate the bloodlust of any gorehound or ultimate fighting freak.
To categorize SINNERS as a horror musical is false advertising. That label suggests a jerky, stop-and-go rhythm between song and dance numbers and shocks. The blues here aren’t atmosphere. The music is the film’s life (and death) blood and can’t be bifurcated. Composer Ludwig Göransson, a Coogler pal from college, earned an Oscar for OPPENHEIMER and scored CREED and both BLACK PANTHERS. Here, he dug deep, creating original blues numbers; as prep work, he moved his family to New Orleans to soak in the vibe. If, not when, you see SINNERS, make sure to hang through the entire end credits as Buddy Guy, the last man standing from the blues golden years, turns up in a choice epilogue.
Due to its originality and Coogler’s voice, SINNERS usually would arrive through a brave, forward-leaning entity like A24 or Neon. Instead, this is studio product from Warner Bros., and just the type of big-budget, non-IP material in too short supply these days. The gamble should pay off in a probable word-of-mouth, crossover hit that stands a good chance of hanging on not just as a prime genre achievement but as one of this year’s best films.
Eric Lindbom is a hardcore horror buff with a strong stomach, weaned on the Universal classics from the ’30s and ’40s. He’s written film and/or music reviews for City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, LA WEEKLY, Request magazine and Netflix. He co-edits triggerwarningshortfiction.com, a site specializing in horror, fantasy and crime short stories with illustrations by co-editor John Skewes. He lives in Los Angeles.
