Ryan Coogler has directed five films, and Michael B. Jordan has been in all of them. Between Black Panther One and Two (with Jordan playing Killmonger), and the Creed films (Coogler directed the first of the trilogy), the two have seen their lives change considerably since their first picture together, the wrenching true story Fruitvale Station. While there can be no denying the success of the Marvel films and the continuation of the Rocky saga, their greatest successes have all been based on pre-existing intellectual property. As much as I’ve enjoyed all three Creed films and the first Black Panther (try as it might, the second film could not make up for the Chadwick Boseman-sized hole in the center), I miss the Fruitvale version of the Coogler/Jordan artistic partnership. Fruitvale Station was gritty, honest, and while it may have made hardly more than a scant nickel compared to the franchises that followed, it’s still easily their best film.
Sinners is not a “back to basics” film for Coogler and Jordan, but despite being a genre film, it does at least split the difference to some degree from Fruitvale to superheroes. In writing his first original story, Coogler has taken the horror film genre and infused it with genuine weight and social commentary. One of the questions I always ask myself when watching an action or horror film is, if you took away the action and the horror scenes, would you still have a movie? With Sinners, had the vampires never turned up, and they take a long time before they do, you would definitely still have a movie.
Set in 1932, Sinners tells the story of twins (Jordan as Smoke and Stack–fans of the Blues will enjoy the inside joke) returning to Clarksdale, Mississippi, from Chicago, where they had hustled their way to enough money to dress well, drive fancy, and purchase a piece of property back home to turn into a juke joint. Early on, Smoke is asked why they left a fashionable place like the Windy City for the Deep South. Smoke and Stack know they are buying the parcel of land from a Klansman; Smoke prefers the open racism of the South to the quiet racism of the North. Smoke likes to see them coming.
The twins have a cousin named Sammie (Miles Caton) who is a young but prodigious talent on guitar and vocals (the echoes of Blues legend Robert Johnson’s curse can be heard in his subplot). They go about connecting with other local musicians, notably Delroy Lindo as Delta Slim—an alcoholic piano player, and Jayme Lawson as the powerful vocalist Pearline. Smoke convinces his former girlfriend, Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), to set up the food and drinks, and with that, Smoke and Stack will open on the same day they close the sale. A large portion of the film is dedicated to the power of the Delta Blues. During one thunderous performance by Pearline, Coogler makes a brilliant, almost anachronistic choice to connect the Blues to Parliament-Funkadelic and hip-hop. It’s a genuinely stirring and inspired moment. You could be easily forgiven for thinking, “Isn’t this a vampire movie?” considering Sinners’ focus on the juke joint, the reconnecting of Smoke and Stack with family, friends, and old flames, along with the deft handling of the pervasive racial issues of the era. At one point, Slim implies Blues is a faith of its own, declaring, “Blues wasn’t forced on us like religion.”
It’s a sign of Coogler’s patience and confidence in his story that he would spend so much time developing characters and evoking the era, and wait so long for the supernatural to make its deadly intrusion in the film. Terrific, if painful, grace notes abound, as when Lindo’s Delta Slim says, “White folks like the blues, they just don’t like the people who play them.” Hailee Steinfeld plays Mary, a former lover of Stack’s who is light-skinned enough that she can “pass” for white, and is indeed married to a white man who is oblivious to her biological roots. These details and story choices are not only unexpected but also risky for a film that is being marketed for its horror aspects.
As for Jordan, who has become a full-fledged movie star now, the dual role of Smoke and Stack is the best part he’s had since Fruitvale Station. Make no mistake, Jordan had been a talent on the rise since The Wire, Friday Night Lights (the TV version), and Fruitvale Station. After the one-two combo of the Creed and Black Panther movies made Jordan into a star, there have been times when I’ve felt that he hasn’t challenged himself enough in recent years. That’s not to say he’s just been coasting on his magnetic charisma, good looks, and ease on camera, but the roles he’s chosen over the last decade haven’t asked as much of him as he’s capable of. While it would be an overstatement to put his work in Sinners on par with Fruitvale Station (that would be a tall order for any actor), Jordan is given the opportunity in his latest film to show more range, and Jordan doesn’t miss. The twins are far from mirror images of each other. Smoke is vulgar & quick to trigger (sometimes literally), Stack is more affable and soft-hearted. It’s a credit to Jordan that you always know which twin is which even when he isn’t speaking. You can tell just by the way he carries himself and the look in his eyes.
When the vampires finally arrive, they do so in the form of an Irish trio, which comes with subtext of its own. In vampire lore, the only way one of these creatures of the night can enter your abode or establishment is by invitation. The Irish were so discriminated against in England that, for well into the 20th century, it was common to see the sign “No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs” on the outside of many shops in the “United” Kingdom. The subtle point that Coogler is making is a profound societal one about how those at the tip-top of the food chain pit the poor against each other based on differences in background and appearance. When the Irish began immigrating in large numbers to the United States in the early 19th century, they were not considered white in the U.S., despite their pale pallor (let me add here that I am mostly of Irish descent). Black folks and Irish folks were often unwelcome in many places others could frequent without question.
Smoke and Stack want their juke joint to be a place for Black people, and who could blame them, considering how few shops, restaurants, and other areas of service were available to them? They want a place of their own for their own. Not to mention, there seems to be something a bit “off” about these three white people at their door. Later in the film, Coogler shows the Irish performing a lovely version of “The Rocky Road to Dublin.” Again, here’s an example of Sinners making the effort to be more than it needed to be, which is something the best “genre” films do. They don’t settle for staying completely in their lane. They stray. Sinners strays very effectively. So effectively that I’m not sure I wouldn’t have minded if there had been no vampires in the film at all.
That being said, when the Irish vampires make the case that being a member of the undead would offer the owners of the juke joint and all of their patrons more freedom, it’s a comment that resonates far beyond the base-level notion that living forever is a freedom of the highest order. The other point being made is that once you become virtually unstoppable by anything other than the sun or a stake to the heart, you can go anywhere you want on any night you choose.
In Sinners, the real enemy isn’t the vampires—it’s the society they live in that strips them of their rights and forces them to turn on each other for that last crust of bread on the table. That’s a pretty heady message for a “vampire movie.” One that elevates the film and allows it to transcend its genre. In our current time of dissension and acrimony, Sinners feels like a rebellion from within, and a damn loud one at that.
Sinners can be seen in movie theaters only
