Sinners (United States, 2025)

Sinners commits one of the rarest of rare transgressions in modern cinema: it’s too ambitious. Writer/director Ryan Coogler has far too much to say for one movie but, instead of opting for another medium in which to present the story or shaving off the portions that don’t work in this context, he opts for this approach. The result is a glorious mess – a movie with its share of great moments and instances of cinematic chutzpah that don’t congeal into a tangible whole. I respect a lot of what Coogler does here, blending genres – horror, musical, gangster drama, period piece – into a whole but many aspects of the overall story (one character’s crisis of faith, the interactions of two brothers with each other and their respective love interests, the relationship between literal vampirism and the metaphorical version) are shortchanged. Not more than once while watching Sinners, I flashed back to Damien Chazelle’s Babylon, and the similarities, although superficial, are striking.

My first gripe with Sinners occurs at the outset and the decision to present the majority of the story in flashback. The movie, which is set in Depression-era Mississippi, opens with a blood-spattered, injured young man stumbling out of a car and entering a church during a Sunday morning service. The congregation is stunned but the pastor encourages the boy, Sammie Moore (Miles Caton, making his feature debut), (who is also his son) to drop the remains of a guitar he is holding, reject sin, and embrace the Lord. At that point, the movie skips back in time with the caption: “One day earlier…”

I’m not a fan of this sort of storytelling unless there’s a compelling reason to use it. In Sinners, there isn’t one. It’s simply a decision made by Coogler to shake things up and give him a strong opening scene. But it undercuts suspense – since we kind-of know where the story is headed – and creates a certain level of impatience – when is the flashback going to return to the present?

The majority of the next 100 minutes is spent genre-hopping. There are significant storylines that are interwoven with a number of subplots. The first is the tale of gangster brothers Elijah “Smoke” Moore and Elias “Stack” Moore (both played by Michael B. Jordan), who have returned to their hometown from Chicago, where they allegedly served as enforcers for Al Capone. They are wealthy but may be feeling some heat from up north. They’re back in the Mississippi Delta to set up a juke joint. They go about recruiting performers – Sammie, piano player Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), and Smoke’s flame, Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) – and getting things ready for a rousing, boozy opening night. As all this is going on, Stack has an awkward reunion with his ex-lover, Mary (Hailee Steinfeld).

The opening of the juke joint is a spectacle but the storm clouds gather once the sun sinks below the western horizon. The wildly popular locale has become the focal point not only of a community of hard-working Black folk looking to let loose after working in the cotton fields all week, but of a group of Klansmen eager for bloodshed and a trio of vampires who represent both a spiritual and physical danger. So as the throng inside dance to one bluesy tune after another and various characters sneak into back rooms for sex, the forces of darkness make their move. (Intentional echoes of From Dusk Till Dawn emerge.)

It's possible to have one of two reactions to the movie’s nearly one-hour period of setup: disappointment that there’s so little payoff to the various interpersonal relationships that are introduced or impatience that Coogler is taking so long getting to the horror elements. Indeed, excepting the introductory scene, it takes about 45 minutes before we get our first inkling that this isn’t just a standard-order period piece about life in rural Mississippi during 1932. And the movie is half over before the vampires really come out to play.

Coogler’s direction includes multiple unbroken takes with his camera swimming through the press of bodies, scenes that cut back-and-forth between various expressions of hedonism, and some lengthy musical numbers (including one that introduces some metaphysical time travel into the mix). One wonders why Coogler is coy about the sex scenes (especially when the dialogue is so graphic) but that’s a stylistic choice. He doesn’t hold back when it comes to bloodletting and neck-biting, though.

Coogler’s recreation of the Jim Crow South is impeccable. The inclusion of the Klan, although period-accurate, feels extraneous. I get that Coogler is drawing parallels but the “payoff” seems like it was grafted on rather than being an organic element of the whole. This aspect of the movie needed to be better integrated into the overall story to have a more significant impact. More successful is the way Sinners approaches vampire mythology with its focus on fellowship and family. The film’s epilogue, a surprisingly lengthy coda that occurs midway through the end credits, is both intriguing and extraneous, and features an appearance by Blues legend Buddy Guy. It’s both indulgent and welcome but its placement is odd. (There’s also another scene at the absolute end but it can easily be skipped by all but completists.)

Michael B. Jordan gets to show off his acting chops by playing the twins Smoke and Stack as two peas in a pod with different personality quirks. Smoke is the more pragmatic, business-like of the men while Stack is more open to enjoying life. Coogler uses special effects to make the brothers’ interactions another seamless. One is never reminded of the old Hollywood tricks of using split-screens and stand-ins.

I wanted to love Sinners more than I did but the energy level is so infectious that it’s impossible not to get swept up and pulled in. Warts and all, Coogler’s creation is a wholly original motion picture full of bravura moments, strong performances, and horror-appropriate gore and violence. It’s a It’s a sloppy concoction that carves out a new niche for vampires not unlike what Let the Right One In achieved.

Sinners (United States, 2025)