Ryan Coogler’s latest film, “Sinners,” has taken the box office by storm— and for good reason. With a star-studded cast and gripping visuals, Coogler once again delivers a bold and timely story, intertwining historical context with vampire lore in a way that feels fresh and deeply reflective.
This movie has easily become one of my favorites, and I can’t wait to watch it again. At its core, “Sinners” is more than a supernatural thriller; it’s a rich exploration of complex themes. The film serves as a metaphorical look at the Black experience in America, unpacking themes of racism, generational trauma and the enduring desire for freedom. Coogler skillfully uses the vampire narrative not just for suspense but as a powerful allegory for how systems of oppression have drained and haunted minorities throughout history.
Additionally, Coogler’s direction and the film’s cinematography also deserve praise. The visual style beautifully captures the haunting atmosphere of the 1930s Mississippi setting, blending historical authenticity with the otherworldly supernatural elements.
“Sinners” follows twin brothers, Smoke and Stack—both played by Michael B. Jordan—throughout one fateful day as they return to their Mississippi hometown, hoping to leave their troubled pasts behind. But what awaits them is a darkness far greater than they imagined. Their relationship is layered, defined by brotherhood, deep conflict and a shared yearning for freedom.
Throughout the movie, the theme of music is omnipresent, weaving together different cultures and emphasizing the importance of those gifted with the ability to “pierce the veil.” It’s explained that gifted musicians can reunite ancestors across past, present and future, bringing healing and connection to their communities—something the vampires desperately want to exploit and control. The soundtrack is equally compelling, blending blues, spirituals and modern music that reflect the film’s rich melting pot of ancestry, connection and healing. Music is not just a backdrop—it is transformative to the story, and the score amplifies this energy. The blues, in particular, became a vehicle for transcending the boundaries of life and death, especially in the pivotal scene at the juke joint when Sammy sings for the first time.
Alongside the twins is a diverse and memorable ensemble cast. “Preacher Boy” Sammy (Miles Caton), their young cousin, struggles between his passion for playing the blues and his devout father’s expectations. Sammy’s music becomes a spiritual bridge, connecting the living with the supernatural. Delroy Lindo brings warmth and comedy as Delta Slim, a seasoned blues pianist and harmonica player who mentors Sammy. Wunmi Mosaku plays Annie, a Hoodoo healer and Smoke’s wife, whose wisdom and spiritual strength ground the story. Hailee Steinfeld portrays Mary, Stack’s former love, a light-skinned woman whose complicated relationship with him is shaped by the racial tensions of the era. Li Jun Li and Yao round out the cast as Grace and Bo Chow, a Chinese American couple who supply goods to the “one night” juke joint, adding cultural depth and texture to the 1930s Mississippi setting. Finally, Jack O’Connell plays Remmick, a charismatic yet sinister Irish vampire who serves as the film’s primary antagonist.
The film also delves into religious themes, such as the warning to “be careful what you let in” and the idea that the devil knows scripture too. Toward the end of the movie, there’s a pivotal moment between Sammy and Remmick, where Sammy recites the Lord’s Prayer. Remmick reflects on how those words are comforting, yet also recalls how scripture was weaponized by white colonizers in Ireland to pacify and control. This scene deepens the film’s exploration of faith, highlighting the contrast between divine truth and manipulated doctrine, between God and the devil.
I also appreciated the nuanced representation of romantic relationships involving the Smoke and Stack brothers and their partners, Annie and Mary. There’s been a lot of discourse on TikTok suggesting that Stack and Mary weren’t truly in love, but that perspective can overlook the deadly historical consequences of interracial relationships, especially in the Jim Crow South. Stack and Mary couldn’t be together openly, not because their feelings weren’t real, but because their relationship could’ve cost them their lives. Stack’s tendency to push Mary away wasn’t out of coldness, but out of a desperate need to protect her. In contrast, the relationship between Smoke and Annie felt deeply rooted and mature. Their love was steady and spiritual, grounded in mutual support. Even during his absence, Annie never stopped believing in Smoke. She prayed for his return and gave him a mojo bag before he left—a small but powerful act of love and faith.
Ultimately, “Sinners” stands as a bold and unforgettable piece of cinema–one that blends horror, history, and heart with remarkable precision. Coogler uses the vampire myth not just for thrills, but to shed light on deeper truths about generational pain, cultural resilience, and the fight for freedom. The film’s layered storytelling, haunting visuals, and emotionally charged performances work together to create a world that is both eerily magical and painfully real. “Sinners” is a journey of cultural reflection and a powerful reminder of how storytelling can preserve memory, reclaim power, and spark necessary conversations.
