Sinners

From the very first notes of blues slicing through the darkness of 1932 Clarksdale, Sinners does more than revisit the vampire myth; it reinvents its teeth and shadows, turning them into symbols of cultural appropriation. Ryan Coogler, now free from the confines of shared cinematic universes, crafts a hybrid of horror, historical drama, and supernatural musical that elevates the genre to a new level. It feels as if the director is saying, “I won’t dilute the narrative power — I will amplify it with blood, music, and ancestry” — and indeed, that is exactly what he accomplishes.

Michael B. Jordan portrays twin brothers Smoke and Stack with distinct nuances — one protective, the other introspective — creating a powerful narrative counterpoint full of symbolism. Their joint venture to reopen a juke joint becomes both a cultural refuge and a point of resistance. Alongside Jordan, Miles Caton shines as Sammie, a musician whose talent pierces through the oppressive eclipse of the era. One scene, where his guitar cuts through the silence and summons the creatures, perfectly captures the struggle between artistic creation and supernatural violence, mirroring the ritualistic dance performed in slow motion that echoes resistance.

What makes Sinners remarkable is its vibrant mise-en-scène, immersing viewers deep into the heart of the Mississippi Delta. Warm-toned cinematography, close-ups on weathered faces, and eyes that reveal more than the script ever says draw the audience in. The siege sequences, inspired by classics like Assault on Precinct 13, transform the juke joint into a symbolic battlefield where art is weapon and rhythm a shield. Yet, despite this boldness, the film isn’t without flaws. The second act, unveiling the vampires, while visually striking, loses some of the initial freshness. The ambitious finale holds back just enough to temper its impact, lessening the climax's full potential.

The character Remmick, the vampiric villain played by Jack O’Connell, oscillates between outright monstrosity and sociocultural metaphor. He doesn’t merely feed on blood; he consumes history, art, and identity, offering a false promise of assimilation that masks spiritual genocide.

Ludwig Göransson’s soundtrack works almost synesthetically—not just a score but a character itself. The percussive rhythms and sharp guitar blur the lines between past and present, so pure that it seems capable of piercing the veil between life and death. The music is a narrative force as vital as the visuals, reinforcing the deep connection between sound and image—the film’s true soul.

On the downside, some promising themes go underdeveloped. Sammie’s musical power, initially presented as key to the supernatural conflict, falls flat, as if Coogler forgot his own musical Chekhov’s gun. There’s a lingering feeling that the brilliant symbolism of the opening dissolves amid the flood of nocturnal creatures and gunfire.

Still, Sinners rises as a landmark: a horror film soaked in real and ancestral pain, dressing its teeth in history. The film’s erotic and bloody atmosphere—already noted as one of the year’s most "heated" horror experiences—is more than provocation; it’s catharsis. Coogler continues his path as a filmmaker who merges entertainment with political and aesthetic catharsis.

Its undeniable strengths include Jordan’s commanding dual performance, the musical storytelling, the deep dive into Black culture, inventive symbolism, and the harmonious blend of history and horror. However, the second half could have sustained the inventive tension of the first, and the “music with supernatural power” element deserved a more solid narrative payoff.

This is a film that provokes, moves, and sparks reflection—on people, art, violence, and memory. It might not be flawless, but its urgency makes it unforgettable.



Sinners (2025 / United States)
Director: Ryan Coogler
Screenplay: Ryan Coogler
Starring: Michael B. Jordan, Miles Caton, Hailee Steinfeld, Jack O’Connell, Wunmi Mosaku, Delroy Lindo
Duration: 137 min.