Sinners Is Bold, Ambitious, and Just Misses Greatness

by

Over time, I’ve often thought that the South plays a crucial role in shaping America, stripping away falsehoods to reveal truths. When I imagine cartoons of Bugs Bunny sawing off Florida, as if giving up land below the Mason-Dixon Line will heal our divided nation, it saddens me deeply. Similarly, when I read articles suggesting Manhattan should be protected from climate disasters while ignoring New Orleans, I see a lack of courage in confronting the consequences. The narratives we create about the South, particularly those that portray it as an uncivilized region unworthy of salvation, highlight a significant truth: This nation has a tendency to forget its past. A large portion of this country’s Black population resides in the South. The jokes and acceptance of this situation might as well allow oppressive leaders to exploit and ultimately harm the Black community, the working class, and other marginalized groups.

It’s important to remember that, as poet Eugenia Collier once wrote, “The agony of chattel slavery was experienced here, shaping a history yet to be fully told. The South is not just a mythical landscape for Black America; it has spread its culture throughout the cities of the North.

With an insatiable interest, the 1932-set horror epic, “Sinners,” directed by Ryan Coogler, showcases something profound – a profound respect for the Black South. The most poignant and chilling visuals are the cotton fields labored by sharecroppers, boundless skies and dirt tracks, the lush expanse of a land that has been a silent witness to so much pain. An animated segment initiates the story, jumping across cultures to recognize the influential ancestors whose creativity transcended temporal boundaries, focusing on West African griots before settling in 1932 Clarksdale, Mississippi. It’s during Prohibition’s twilight when the notorious twin brothers Smoke and Stack (played energetically by Michael B. Jordan) return to their hometown after associating with Al Capone up North, carrying illegal liquor and a steadfast ambition to establish a juke joint – a place for us, by us. The narrative unfolds predominantly over the span of a single day and night, barely grazing the approaching dawn. “I heard they don’t have Jim Crow up there,” Sammie Moore (the sweet-natured Miles Caton), their young cousin with a spiritual knack for blues, informs the twins. However, Smoke and Stack react swiftly and fiercely. Chicago is just as racist as the rest of the nation, even if its skyscrapers and wealth give it a different appearance: “We came back home to confront the devil we’re familiar with.

The film’s exploration of the complexities, thoughts, and cultural nuances of rural Southern life is refreshingly engaging. Sinners, adorned with thought-provoking themes and captivating characters, brushes against greatness, although it never fully grasps it due to an overreaching ambition that strains its nearly two-and-a-half-hour length, resulting in a disjointed narrative following the setup. Coogler doesn’t rush things; instead, he delves deeply into the events and emotions of his characters and their surroundings after the twins acquire a rundown sawmill to transform it into a juke joint. A heavy-handed portrayal of anti-Black racism is thankfully absent. Coogler relies on the intelligence of his audience, allowing the emotional tension of his film to unfold gradually. The twins are distinctly characterized through color theory; Smoke in blue, Stack in red. However, their differences would be apparent even without this visual cue. Stack is lustful and abrasive, while Jordan exudes bravado as a man who unapologetically occupies space and seldom moves quietly in a room, even if he remains largely silent. He’s quick to smile and just as swift to violence. Yet, Smoke shares a taciturn tenderness with Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), a practitioner of hoodoo with whom he grieves the loss of their deceased child.

In this film, the twins play significant roles, yet Sammie stands out as the main character. His journey from boyhood to manhood forms the basis of the storyline, where he must decide between his exceptional talent as a blues musician and the religious life his father, Jedidiah (Saul Williams), wants for him. If the stories of Sammie, Stack, Smoke were the only key elements, the movie would still be impressive. However, Ryan Coogler doesn’t stop there. The movie seems to have been crafted by someone who realizes they might not have another chance to pursue such grand cinematic aspirations or the resources needed to fully realize them.

Apart from Sammie and his love interest, Pearline (Jayme Lawson), there’s Delroy Lindo as Delta Slim, a blues musician known for his golden spirit but struggling with alcoholism. Stack has his own romantic tale involving Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), who is a woman living on the white side of town but prefers Black companionship. The Chinese couple, Grace and Bow Chow (Li Jun Li and Yao), run two shops in town and support the twins’ endeavor to establish their juke joint. Their characters swiftly develop a strong bond, reminding us that while the soul of the South is predominantly Black, it is a region characterized by a more intricate diversity often overlooked.

The actors effectively portray a deep connection between their characters, and they serve as a testament to the rich cultural tapestry of the South. The rights to this film revert to Coogler in 25 years, an unusual provision in Hollywood contract negotiations.

In a different phrasing, the film “Sinners” delves into the lives of its characters and the intense actions they provoke, portrayed by Coogler, for approximately an hour before Jack O’Connell’s brutal Irish vampire, Remmick, leaves a trail of blood and chaos through their tales. This horror movie is woven together with chilling images of crystalline sunlight and darker-than-death blood, as smoke billows from Remmick’s body. He stumbles towards the home of a family associated with the Ku Klux Klan just as dawn breaks, managing to insinuate himself inside before the Native American vampire hunters can catch up. Unfortunately, they arrive at the wrong doorstep, and the couple, untrusting of the Indigenous men’s warning, thwart any potential rescue attempt. (It’s a shame we don’t get to know these characters better; their story could have been so intriguing.)

Vampires are some of cinema’s most captivating monsters, and Coogler largely sticks to traditional lore. There’s garlic, silver, stakes through the heart, and invitations required to enter homes. However, he also adds a few less common elements that could have added depth — glowing eyes, an enhanced monstrosity that manifests during feeding, and drooling at the mere thought of blood. (In “Sinners”, draining a human doesn’t just satisfy an appetite; a vampire absorbs the memories and skills of their victim as well.) However, Remmick’s motivations — hinted at in a brief line of dialogue — are underdeveloped, and his actions feel haphazardly presented. (Remmick yearns to connect with the ancestors that vampirism has kept him from; consuming Sammie’s ability to summon spirits of the past through music is his method.) The horror he unleashes is also somewhat half-hearted, as if the camera shies away. Moments of tragedy and violence are not given the proper attention, like Coogler was preoccupied with something else to fully explore these moments. There is no auditory tension; spaces like the juke joint feel visually disjointed and confusing when Remmick’s fiery violence invades them. The emotional resolutions of these characters’ stories arrive without the necessary weight for their losses to resonate. Despite this, I found myself yearning for more. Some parts that could have provided connective tissue are sacrificed in favor of excess elsewhere.

In a unique manner, “Sinners” excels as a tribute to the Black South, but falls short when it comes to delivering chilling horror. However, Ryan Coogler’s approach stands out in a way I am eager for audiences to appreciate. Although the horror genre elements may not be graphically or storyline disturbing, the film refrains from overt messaging about racism and history, steering clear of the predictable tropes prevalent in contemporary Black horror productions, which often emphasize making racial struggles clear to non-Black viewers.

Instead, “Sinners” resonates profoundly with Black audiences on a level that many recent mainstream Black horror directors have missed. Coogler’s screenplay challenges conventional wisdom. It tackles themes such as the misguided adherence of Black people to Christianity, the boundaries of Black identity and community, the echoes of Black music through ancestry, finding love despite adversity, and the captivating beauty that arises when two distinct entities unite. These topics infuse the vampire narrative with a sense of ecstasy, courage, ambition, and a deep sense of wonder and concern. Despite its rough edges, particularly the script’s struggle to maintain coherence during the main action, it is a film that left an indelible mark on me and lingers in my imagination.

In this movie, Coogler masterfully explores sensuality in an exhilarating way. The characters, except for young Sammie, seem fully matured, displaying the world-weariness and wisdom that comes from life experiences – something the actors portray with sincere dedication. The film contains three intimate scenes, but the most memorable is Stack’s character making Mary spit in his mouth during a passionate encounter in a storage room at the juke joint. Another notable aspect is the film’s appreciation for real food lovers; at one point, Stack elucidates cunnilingus by comparing it to the gentle licks of eating ice cream. The movie reaches its climax in a scene that is both sensual and divine, where Sammie shows off his sweet voice and guitar skills, encouraging everyone to dance exuberantly. A West African drummer and dancer appear, serving as a reminder of the ancestors from the opening scene. A funk guitarist accompanies Sammie. However, when hip-hop artists arrive, the scene verges on being overly sentimental. Yet, for a brief moment, this blend of past, present, and future achieves a transcendent quality. The movie is a dreamy celebration of Black Southern culture, as Delta Slim says to Sammie, “Blues wasn’t forced upon us like that religion.

Read More

2025-04-18 19:59