Writer-director Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is as much a kick-ass western horror epic as it is a thoughtful abstraction on the American experience. It mostly starts as a drama about two twin brothers — Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack,” both played by Michael B. Jordan — who, after serving in World War I and working for Al Capone in Chicago, come back to their Mississippi hometown in 1932 with plans to start a blues bar in an abandoned warehouse. The money they bought the warehouse with appears to have been acquired through less-than-honest means, and, as the title might suggest, they start to meet a horrific punishment for their criminal ways. However, this film consistently grows in depth and theme such that its well-done horror elements start to feel more like window dressing, and I absolutely mean that as a compliment.
The other star amongst a terrific ensemble cast is newcomer Miles Caton as Sammie, a young sharecropper and aspiring blues musician. His father, a preacher, warns him against pursuing music over what he sees as a higher calling, but when Caton first sings and plays the guitar in the film, we know Sammie will never and should never stray away from the musical path. As he’s folded into the lineup for the bar’s opening night, Sammie becomes our eyes and ears to introduce us to most of the characters Smoke and Stack know from their past. These include Delroy Lindo as pianist and harmonicist Delta Slim, Wunmi Mosaku as Annie, Smoke’s estranged wife, and Hailee Steinfeld as Mary, Stack’s old flame. Sammie has a love interest of his own, Pearline (Jayme Lawson), who proves to be an excellent blues singer.
Coogler’s narrative here is certainly sprawling and complex at times. However, he has a way of making it all so smooth and intriguing, often in a style that reminds one of old-Hollywood westerns and romances. He seamlessly blends this type of storytelling with new-school aesthetics, such as long, unbroken takes and subtle homages to different eras of horror filmmaking. Ludwig Göransson’s incredible score informs so much of what the film is exploring about African-American history and beyond. The wide-ranging soundtrack often helps us get from one layer of the story to the next. Especially at the midpoint of the film, in what might go down as the single best scene in movies this year, that musical range is explored visually just as powerfully as it is in audio form. Coogler and Göransson are exploring how music and art create solidarity and intersectionality within this vast melting pot we call America, and the ambitious way they explore said topic makes this film utterly unique and totally unmissable.
Cinematographer Autumn Durand Arkapaw adds to this sweeping sense of history with incredible widescreen photography and truly eye-popping color. Visually, Sinners feels like two films in the very best way: the bright blue of the day and the red heat of the intense evening. Editor Michael P. Shawver crafts a few of the most ingenious cuts I’ve ever seen in a horror film, often helped by the guiding nature of the musical structure of the film. Even in its most elegiac moments, Sinners still takes the time to sneak up on you, in more ways than one.
Some might say the film is doing too much, especially when its mid-credits scene (which you should absolutely stick around for) adds so much richness to its ideas that it feels more like the film’s proper ending and probably should have remained credit-less. For me, too much of a good thing is never an issue. Coogler could have waxed poetic (and bloody) on these subjects for another half-hour and I wouldn’t have minded it at all. There is such clear dedication and passion on screen from every department involved that it would seem extremely difficult to not get at least a little swept up in what this movie is doing. If you haven’t already noticed, I’ve tried to tiptoe around potential spoilers because I want you to experience this brilliance for yourself. Don’t commit the sin of not seeing Sinners. | George Napper
