Sinners Review: A Cinematic Tapestry
of Black Culture, Music, and Horror
Words by Mark O. Estes 26 April 2025
of Black Culture, Music, and Horror
Words by Mark O. Estes 26 April 2025
In 1932, during the Jim Crow era, Smoke and Stack Moore return to their Mississippi hometown to open a juke joint for their community. The Black twin brothers think they’ve left their devilish reputation behind, but little do they know that the devil has saved a final dance for them. One that will not only forever change their lives, but the lives of their loved ones as well.
That is pretty much the on-paper premise of Ryan Coogler’s fifth film, but Sinners is so much more than that. Breaking box office records as of this spoiler-free review, Coogler’s first film not based on previous IP or true events is a deeply personal one that has lit up the Black community. At first glance, Sinners is a horror movie, but for Black culture, it goes deeper. It’s a tapestry, one that expertly showcases the transcendent power of music and its ability to break the barriers between time and space, while attracting evil along the way. Black horror author and expert Tananarive Due claims that “Black history is Black horror.” Sinners echoes that statement on all fronts and, as a Southern Gothic fright-fest, fires on all cylinders.
Taking place over 24 hours, Sinners follows the SmokeStack Twins (both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan) as they enlist family and friends to get their juke joint running for a grand opening. First on the list is Sammie (newcomer Miles Caton), their young cousin also known as “Preacher Boy”, who loves the blues despite the disapproval of his pastor father. Next is Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), a local drunk well-known for his prowess on the keys and harmonica, and the charismatic Cornbread (Omar Miller). Finally, they reconnect with the local grocers, Bo (Yao) and Grace Chow (Li Jun Li). Moreover, both twins have unfinished business with their love lives: Smoke with his estranged wife Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), a local hoodoo practitioner; and Stack with Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), a biracial woman whose ability to pass as a white woman causes both internal and external conflict. Meanwhile, Sammie takes a liking to a local married singer named Pearline (Jayme Lawson). When night falls, the community is treated to a roaring party, but Sammie’s unnatural musical talent summons Remmick, an Irish vampire keen to crash the festivities.
Filmed with IMAX cameras, Sinners looks simply luscious on the screen it was meant for. 1932 Mississippi is rendered in majestic detail with long pans and stunning widescreen cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw, the first woman ever to shoot on 65mm and large format IMAX film. There’s one particular scene where you notably see the aspect ratio widen to slide the audience into the centre of the action, and I dare you not to inch forward in your seat when it happens. It’s going to be very interesting to see how well this transfers over to the physical release of the film. Not to say it hasn’t been done before, but it’s such an immersive theatrical experience that I’m curious to see how they adapt it for home media.
The sultry scenery wouldn’t be complete without an equally hypnotic score and soundtrack, and composer Ludwig Göransson deserves all the awards coming his way. Having worked with Coogler since Fruitvale Station, he evidently has a symbiotic relationship with the director. The two toured the Mississippi Delta and Memphis, TN areas to research the film’s sound and, man, does it show. Blues music lies at the heart of the movie, and while this writer isn’t an expert on its extensive history, I did grow up around it and can attest that Göransson did right by its legacy.
Coogler’s fifth film also marks his fifth collaboration with Michael B. Jordan, who plays—and differentiates—both twins with a skilful precision and swagger that needs to be studied. Seriously, if Jordan isn’t nominated for all the awards this upcoming awards season, there should be an investigation into whatever tomfoolery is going on within these various committees.
Every cast member, and I do mean every cast member, brings their all to their roles. Wunmi Mosaku breaks expectations and tropes by playing the beautiful, powerhouse Annie, a Black female lead who defies the Hollywood leading woman standards. Hailee Steinfeld slinks across the screen as a firecracker unaware of their dangerous presence, and her scenes with Jordan’s Stack are just as sexy as Smoke’s with Mosaku. That this is Miles Caton’s first acting experience in a movie is a testament to this young man’s talent as an actor and musician, and Delroy Lindo’s Delta Slim needs to be nominated for Best Supporting Actor across the board. Li Jun Li’s Grace and Jayme Lawson’s Pearline serve the house down, and, having kept up the film’s online discourse, I believe more respect needs to be shown to them. Omar Miller serves up memorable moments as the lovable Cornbread, while Yao’s Bo has women (and me) swooning whenever he glides into a scene. Finally, Jack O’Connell is no stranger to sadistic roles, but his portrayal of Remmick, the big bad, is one for the books.
To go deeper into the movie’s themes of community and Black ownership would require some spoilage. But I will close this review with these final thoughts: the film explores how music is a powerful force in every culture. It’s why the movie has struck a chord with Black moviegoers in the current zeitgeist. Black spaces, like our history, are sacred. When those spaces are infiltrated by white forces, the results are usually whitewashing, cultural appropriation, and the erasing of said history, which is apparent in the current political climate in America. As Coogler’s first original picture, Sinners approaches that history, and the threat of its erasure, from a place of love. In the film’s opening images, a voiceover introduces the concept of the griot, a West African artist with such talent that their work conjures the spirits of both their ancestors and descendants, dissolving boundaries of space and time. When it comes to moviemaking, Ryan Coogler is the griot of Black Cinema.
That is pretty much the on-paper premise of Ryan Coogler’s fifth film, but Sinners is so much more than that. Breaking box office records as of this spoiler-free review, Coogler’s first film not based on previous IP or true events is a deeply personal one that has lit up the Black community. At first glance, Sinners is a horror movie, but for Black culture, it goes deeper. It’s a tapestry, one that expertly showcases the transcendent power of music and its ability to break the barriers between time and space, while attracting evil along the way. Black horror author and expert Tananarive Due claims that “Black history is Black horror.” Sinners echoes that statement on all fronts and, as a Southern Gothic fright-fest, fires on all cylinders.
Taking place over 24 hours, Sinners follows the SmokeStack Twins (both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan) as they enlist family and friends to get their juke joint running for a grand opening. First on the list is Sammie (newcomer Miles Caton), their young cousin also known as “Preacher Boy”, who loves the blues despite the disapproval of his pastor father. Next is Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), a local drunk well-known for his prowess on the keys and harmonica, and the charismatic Cornbread (Omar Miller). Finally, they reconnect with the local grocers, Bo (Yao) and Grace Chow (Li Jun Li). Moreover, both twins have unfinished business with their love lives: Smoke with his estranged wife Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), a local hoodoo practitioner; and Stack with Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), a biracial woman whose ability to pass as a white woman causes both internal and external conflict. Meanwhile, Sammie takes a liking to a local married singer named Pearline (Jayme Lawson). When night falls, the community is treated to a roaring party, but Sammie’s unnatural musical talent summons Remmick, an Irish vampire keen to crash the festivities.
Filmed with IMAX cameras, Sinners looks simply luscious on the screen it was meant for. 1932 Mississippi is rendered in majestic detail with long pans and stunning widescreen cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw, the first woman ever to shoot on 65mm and large format IMAX film. There’s one particular scene where you notably see the aspect ratio widen to slide the audience into the centre of the action, and I dare you not to inch forward in your seat when it happens. It’s going to be very interesting to see how well this transfers over to the physical release of the film. Not to say it hasn’t been done before, but it’s such an immersive theatrical experience that I’m curious to see how they adapt it for home media.
The sultry scenery wouldn’t be complete without an equally hypnotic score and soundtrack, and composer Ludwig Göransson deserves all the awards coming his way. Having worked with Coogler since Fruitvale Station, he evidently has a symbiotic relationship with the director. The two toured the Mississippi Delta and Memphis, TN areas to research the film’s sound and, man, does it show. Blues music lies at the heart of the movie, and while this writer isn’t an expert on its extensive history, I did grow up around it and can attest that Göransson did right by its legacy.
Coogler’s fifth film also marks his fifth collaboration with Michael B. Jordan, who plays—and differentiates—both twins with a skilful precision and swagger that needs to be studied. Seriously, if Jordan isn’t nominated for all the awards this upcoming awards season, there should be an investigation into whatever tomfoolery is going on within these various committees.
Every cast member, and I do mean every cast member, brings their all to their roles. Wunmi Mosaku breaks expectations and tropes by playing the beautiful, powerhouse Annie, a Black female lead who defies the Hollywood leading woman standards. Hailee Steinfeld slinks across the screen as a firecracker unaware of their dangerous presence, and her scenes with Jordan’s Stack are just as sexy as Smoke’s with Mosaku. That this is Miles Caton’s first acting experience in a movie is a testament to this young man’s talent as an actor and musician, and Delroy Lindo’s Delta Slim needs to be nominated for Best Supporting Actor across the board. Li Jun Li’s Grace and Jayme Lawson’s Pearline serve the house down, and, having kept up the film’s online discourse, I believe more respect needs to be shown to them. Omar Miller serves up memorable moments as the lovable Cornbread, while Yao’s Bo has women (and me) swooning whenever he glides into a scene. Finally, Jack O’Connell is no stranger to sadistic roles, but his portrayal of Remmick, the big bad, is one for the books.
To go deeper into the movie’s themes of community and Black ownership would require some spoilage. But I will close this review with these final thoughts: the film explores how music is a powerful force in every culture. It’s why the movie has struck a chord with Black moviegoers in the current zeitgeist. Black spaces, like our history, are sacred. When those spaces are infiltrated by white forces, the results are usually whitewashing, cultural appropriation, and the erasing of said history, which is apparent in the current political climate in America. As Coogler’s first original picture, Sinners approaches that history, and the threat of its erasure, from a place of love. In the film’s opening images, a voiceover introduces the concept of the griot, a West African artist with such talent that their work conjures the spirits of both their ancestors and descendants, dissolving boundaries of space and time. When it comes to moviemaking, Ryan Coogler is the griot of Black Cinema.