Content warnings: Death or dying, racism, violence

“Oh my god, it’s so fucking good.” Phenomenal. Incredible. Fantastic. Just about every possible synonym for ‘good’ was used by my friend, Aditi, when I’d asked her to describe the new Ryan Coogler film, Sinners. Coogler is absolutely no stranger to producing some of the most acclaimed films in recent memory. Fruitvale Station (2013) was a compelling directorial debut that put both his artistry and Michael B. Jordan on the Hollywood map; Black Panther (2018), back when the Marvel Cinematic Universe wasn’t bloated with cameo-infested slop, was an unmissable cultural zeitgeist that unapologetically commemorated Black Americans on a scale that was unheard of. On the Friday that week, I went to the HOYTS theatre down at the CBD, mood mildly soured by the extortionate prices of popcorn ($55 for two tickets and popcorn?!). Still, my expectations were high. It’s Ryan Coogler, after all.

Michael B. Jordan plays both the roles of twins Smoke and Stack, and the film follows the brothers’ journey in owning and opening a juke joint—bar-equivalent establishments owned and operated by Black Americans for Black Americans—until they come across a group equally as vicious as the KKK Klansmen they face early on in the film, but definitely not as lame: Vampires. The creative choice of infusing Jim Crow America with vampires may be enough to walk out for some on the basis that it is narratively jarring. It’s not criticism I vehemently disagree with; if anything, I agree to an extent. The film’s first half was solely dedicated to showing a true-to-life Mississippi whilst the twins recruit a roster to run their juke joint. We’re introduced to a colourful cast whose personalities all shine and capture an element of Southern life that Coogler so dearly wants us to experience: Sammie Moore (Miles Caton), a cousin of the twins who tags along because of his gifted voice and burning passion for music; Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) a gentle-hearted, spiritual ex of Smoke’s who agrees despite their history; Grace and Bo Chow (Li Jun Li and Yao), hardworking Chinese immigrants that run two separate shops—the casual camaraderie between the Chows and the twins representing significant racial solidarity that’s often buried; Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), a tough old Blues legend who says yes without hesitation upon tasting an Irish beer for the first time, to name a few. Everything is organic. The way they’re written, the way they act, the way they tie into the story and how they’re introduced. It’s why when the film slightly loses focus of its pacing in the latter half upon the introduction of the vampires, I’m not too fussed because the exposition was just beyond exceptional.

When Remmick (the main antagonist of the film, played by Jack O’Connell) is introduced, it is discernible that the inclusion of vampires was to explore the ways in which white supremacy infects Black spaces and destroys it from within, but through a mythological, horror lens. There’s a lot of Black suffering in the film, unfortunately non-negotiable for a Southern Gothic film set in 1932. I did not and do not expect Coogler to erase the history of enslaved people and replace them with unicorns. However, Hollywood loves to commodify Black trauma (see: 12 Years A Slave (2013), Queen & Slim (2019), Moonlight (2016), For Colored Girls (2010), Them (2021) and so on and so on) to the point where people become blasé to it. This isn’t to say I didn’t understand or empathise with Black communities until they brought in some damn vampires as a metaphor for me to finally get it. It’s that this time around, there was something visceral about the primal violence of the whetted fangs; the open jugulars spraying blood; the cold, hungry eyes of Remmick as he searches for any other open neck to drain. Coogler frames the harms of white supremacy not in any subtle fashion, but in the most outwardly cruel and senseless forms of violence. Remmick is waiting outside the juke joint during the night as he is quite literally covered from head to toe in the blood of the enslaved attenders, entranced by the melodies. There is zero room for any sort of sensitivity or softness, only blood and guts. Yet amidst the bloodbath though, is something peering back—a mixed blessing: the music. In the 1860s, bluesmen were musicians and tellers of folklore; stories centered about the experience of being free people. Liberation, even as a story, was mythologised. These folktales were fully translated into song by 1890s, a decade on record as having the highest number of African American lynchings in history. The Blues gradually took form, and became one of the many cornerstones in Black history.

Sinners very evidently expresses a hearty, bona fide respect for America’s Deep South and the music and people of Mississippi, whilst also being realistic about the abominable living conditions and lack of civil rights for Black Americans in 1932. Yes, there is gore and a LOT of blood. Yet the most poignant, but striking, visuals for me come from the scenes that aren’t about people getting torn into shreds of meat, rather the ones that quietly pan to enslaved Black Americans (some of whom are pregnant women) in idyllic, serene cotton fields; Black crowds at a train station who dance with ear-to-ear grins upon hearing the Blues, until they see a White-passing woman (Hailee Steinfeld as Mary) and immediately dissipate, as if their joy was something to be ashamed of. It’s Coogler baring his teeth at how slavery robbed Black Americans of enjoying the wonderful cultures and landscapes of their very own homes. The scars of slavery are eternal and are still felt culturally and systemically, but the cultural fruit of the Blues is a phoenix rising from these ashes that will live longer than any vampire can.

Sinners isn’t just a horror flick, but a triumphant amalgamated celebration of music in the face of white exploitation and colonialism. I highly recommend this film; it is indeed, “that fucking good”.